Up and down in Toledo, the expected and the surprising

I have wanted to visit Toledo for at least forty years and for a particular reason, being the canvases of Domenicos Theotokopoulos, or El Greco as we have learned to call it. Well now I’ve been and found what I was looking for, plus a really surprising and unexpected surprise.

Toledo is one of those famous tourist destinations that defies categorization. It was a commercial center in Roman times. It was the Visigothic capital in what we still call the Middle Ages. It became a splendid, rich, cosmopolitan commercial city and artistic center under Muslim rule. The Christian era saw the construction and decoration of the institutions and monuments that now included the current iconic identity of the city. And, after the period of relative decline that affected all of Spain, it is now one of the most visited tourist places in the world, preserving a life of its own and very dignified.

Its environment is unbeatable. Almost surrounded by the River Tagus, the outcrop towers over the gorge. And it’s crowned by a mass of buildings, each of which seems to assert its own competitive claim to greatness. Few of them can challenge the sheer scale of the Alcazar or the cathedral. The former is heavily rebuilt and rebuilt after being disputed many times, but its vast scale alone impresses, and surely, courtesy of El Greco’s painted cityscapes, it is one of the most recognizable buildings in the world. The cathedral, on the other hand, is monumental and aesthetically pleasing. His images include portraits of the saints by El Greco and an incredible almost cubist Madonna by Morales. One chapel has portraits of all the archbishops who have reigned there. The treasure is five hundred years old of her dresses. And the ambulatory behind the altar has some of their cardinal hats hanging from the ceiling. They are apparently hung over the owner’s graves and remain there until they rot. The hats, that is.

There is an interesting point about visiting one of the smallest buildings in the city, the Synagogue of Santa María la Blanca. The period of Muslim rule was marked by great tolerance. Although the different religious communities had their own areas of the city, Christians, Jews and Muslims built their own churches, synagogues and mosques. But after the reconquest, Christianity affirmed its dominant normative creed and everything except the churches was suppressed. Then the synagogue became a church. An altarpiece was erected in front of the sacred wall and the arches were bricked up so that Christian paintings could be added. And since Christians did not actually believe that Jews and Muslims had converted, a Holy Inquisition was established to identify dissidents. Shortly after this troubled period, El Greco arrived in Toledo.

Domenicos Theotokopoulos left Crete to train as an artist in Venice. By 1577 he had settled in Toledo and remained there. His unique style, a blend of high Renaissance, Orthodox Church iconography, and emerging Mannerism, is instantly recognizable and highly expressive. His use of light, or often the lack of it, as he often painted in the dark, gives his canvases an eerily ethereal whiteness that often seems to emphasize the humanity and thus the vulnerability of his subjects.

El Greco’s work, of course, is represented in important collections around the world and, it could be argued, the Prado collection far surpasses in importance and sensation the one left in Toledo. But in the church of San Tomé in the city, still in the place for which it was conceived, is the painter’s masterpiece, the Burial of Señor Orgaz. It is so well known that the experience of being in front of it can provoke déjà vu or an anticlimax but, like all true masterpieces, it transcends even its own reputation by offering much more than you expect. Painted in 1586, it represents the burial of a medieval knight, a neighbor of Toledo, philanthropist and benefactor of the Sane Tomé church. In the foreground, the body of Mr. Orgaz is buried. Meanwhile, towards the top, his soul is admitted to heaven. Across the entire width of the image, a line of mourning faces serves to separate the worldly lower half from the heavens above. Each person is a unique individual, each offering a different emotional and perhaps political response to burial. In the swirling skies above, human gravity has no place. There, everything glows with a cool white light, perhaps suggesting waterfalls rather than flights of passion. And it is the row of human heads, with their perhaps combined intellects, that forms the boundary between the material world below and the ethereal heavens above. A true Renaissance message.

There are other originals by El Greco and several copies in other parts of the city, in Santo Domingo Antiguo, the cathedral, the Santa Cruz museum and the Tavera museum. Perhaps only the artist himself knows why so many people in his paintings have pointed noses. But if all Toledo had to offer was Mr. Orgaz’s burial, he would still demand a visit.

The other place with paintings by El Greco is the Casa del Greco, but it is closed for restoration. There are a couple of well-known paintings in that collection, notably a view of the city with a map, so they have been relocated to the nearby Victorio Macho museum.

Given my motivation to visit Toledo, I doubt that I would have made the Victorio Macho museum a priority. He is a 20th century sculptor, born in Palencia, Spain, and who spent many years in Peru. It was El Greco’s paintings, relocated there, that attracted me, but I left after having experienced one of those wonderful surprises that make a particular trip not only memorable but etched in the mind, never to be forgotten. Macho’s work is astonishingly beautiful. There are bronzes, stonework, and drawings. His series of self-portraits is masterful, his face full of doubts, but his representation a model of expression and sure technique. A female nude from the back titled The Guitar is memorable, to say the least. But the most impressive piece was the one that a visiting colleague described as similar to her grandmother. A small old woman dressed completely in black is sitting alone with her head slightly bowed. The head and hands are white. His expression at first seems distant, at least contemplative, perhaps rather distant and critical. But it changes. A hint of a smile appears as you study her face. And then the sculpture seems to suggest the entire life of the woman. She is both old and young, with the contrast of white flesh and black clothing suggesting youth and old age. And everything is there in that enigmatic face.

Thus, having found in Toledo the experience he was looking for, an experience of the quality he expected, the works of Victorio Macho provided the surprise that made the visit absolutely memorable.