Guernica

We have visited three fabulous art museums in Madrid: the Prado, which houses a superb collection of 17^th and 18^th century Spanish art, including major works by Velasquez and Goya; the Thyssen-Bornemisza, a private collection of 13^th century to contemporary art; and the Reina Sofia, which houses Spain’s 20^th century art collection.  I wanted to visit the Reina Sofia in particular to see Picasso’s Guernica.  Vaguely, I remembered seeing it in NYC in the fall of 1977, when I was on a college tour with my dad—but how could that have been?  I found out why later.

Guernica is a huge black and white mural painted with cubist and abstract figures representing the massacre that occurred in the Basque town of that name during the Spanish Civil War.  It’s both a moving and a daunting portrayal of terror.  And it was every bit as memorable and disturbing as I remember it being over 30 years ago.

After visiting the museum, I decided to find out more about Guernica’s history.  Picasso was commissioned to paint it for the Paris International Exposition in 1937.  It was meant to—and it did—bring attention to the Republican forces fighting against Franco in the Spanish Civil War.  Since then it has become an anti-war symbol used by many, including the Basques themselves and protestors against the Vietnam War. 

I found a couple of ironies associated with the painting.  First, it was exhibited at the MOMA in NYC essentially from 1939-81 (with some tours elsewhere including three years in Brazil), hence the reason I saw it there in 1977.  Picasso didn’t want the painting to return to Spain until the country became a republic.  But in 1978 Spain became a constitutional monarchy.  The MOMA, however, didn’t want to return the painting to Spain claiming that the country wasn’t a true republic yet.  International pressure fortunately convinced the MOMA to return it in 1981.

The second irony concerns protecting the anti-war painting.  At the MOMA in 1974, the painting was attacked with spray paint and had to be repaired.  When it came to be displayed at the Prado in 1981, it was protected behind bullet-proof glass and was flanked by guards with machine guns. I wonder what Picasso would have thought?

Now, luckily, Guernica is at the Reina Sofia, no longer under glass or guard—you just can’t approach the painting too closely (as we did by mistake).

Seeing the painting and thinking about all the art we’ve seen these past four months makes me especially aware of the incredible power of visual art—not just as propaganda, but in this case as a profound symbol of the human spirit.

Beth