Last Friday I had the pleasure of attending one of the Frick Collection’s “Summer Nights,” a series that offers free after-hours admission and a number of activities centered on a single exhibition–lectures and live music among them. This particular evening was focused on Men in Armor: El Greco and Pulzone Face to Face, an exhibition with just two paintings. Jeongho Park, the show’s guest curator, was on hand to give a gallery talk and take questions from the crowd. Also on the program, Celil Refik Kaya, a young guitarist from Mannes College of Music, wooed guests with music evocative of sixteenth-century Spain.
El Greco’s Vincenzo Anastagi (Fig. 1) and Scipione Pulzone’s Jacopo Boncompagni (Fig. 2) were contemporary works, the former dating to circa 1575 and the latter from 1574. Indeed, it is likely that El Greco saw the Boncompagni portrait whilst gathering inspiration for his own commission. Although it is not known whether El Greco and Pulzone were rivals, the exhibition nevertheless places the Greek’s work in opposition to the Italian’s.
Fig. 1. Vincenzo Anastagi by El Greco (1541-1614), c. 1575. Oil on canvas, 74 by 49 7/8 inches. Frick Collection, Henry Clay Frick bequest, 1913.
Looking at the two portraits together, the differences between them are glaring. The sophisticated techniques Pulzone employed to hide his painterly efforts are absent in El Greco’s likeness, where free brushstrokes and smeared pigments emphasize the surface of the canvas. Pulzone smothers Boncompagni’s armor in carved gold and silver embellishments, but El Greco leaves Anastagi’s cuirass comparatively bare of ornamental bands or decorative details. El Greco shows the full figure of Anastagi, a portrait type reserved for kings and high-ranking generals, rather than cutting him off at his breeches as Pulzone does to Boncompagni. Thus, despite his lower rank, Anastagi towers over Boncompagni, literally and figuratively.
Fig. 2. Jacopo Boncompagni by Scipione Pulzone (1540/41-98), 1574. Oil on canvas, 48 by 39 1/8 inches. Private collection, courtesy of Jean-Luc Baroni Ltd.
The creation of space in the paintings is similarly disparate–Pulzone leaves the viewer searching for a light among the darkness, while El Greco illuminates the background. Pulzone uses a black backdrop bringing Boncompagni right up to the edge of the canvas, only hinting at an ambiguous setting with a table covered in a deep red velvet cloth and a swath of lush blue drapery held back by a trompe l’oeil golden tassel. El Greco on the other hand builds up a room, albeit a somewhat skewed one, using flat mauves and browns to separate wall from floor, and inserting a slice of a window over Anastagi’s shoulder and a helmet at his feet to indicate depth.
Beyond the depiction of soldiers in half-armor, perhaps the strongest correlation between the paintings is the performance of masculinity in both. With their rapiers poised for battle, the sitters are unmistakably warriors. This is evident to the modern viewer in spite of the chin-tickling ruffled collars, embroidered breeches, and frilly sleeves so different from the sleek symbols associated with masculinity today.
The proximity of the paintings to one another highlights their differences and gives a sense that El Greco’s every artistic choice may have been meant to distinguish his work from Pulzone’s. But, one must ask, are his expressionistic brushstrokes, unadorned armor, and almost abstract background really efforts at creating a distinctly different kind of portrait? When confronted with this question Mr. Jeongho noted that a variety of styles were popular during the period, but he also explained that El Greco might not have been able to produce as precise a depiction as Pulzone’s rendering of Boncompagni had he attempted to do so.
When we gaze at El Greco’s Vincenzo Anastagi we do not see a window onto the world, but we do see an honest representation of a soldier–sun-burnt from battle, muscular calves built up over years of military valor, and graying hair from what we can only assume is the stress of having a sword pointed at your chest more than once. Pulzone’s talent is undeniable but his tightly wound technique and strict naturalism prevented him from accomplishing what came so easily to El Greco–giving the canvas a sense of movement and life.
Men in Armor: El Greco and Pulzone marks the 400th anniversary of El Greco’s death. The Frick Collection will continue its celebration of El Greco this autumn and winter with an installation organized in conjunction with El Greco in New York, opening in November at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Men in Armor: El Greco and Pulzone Face to Face • The Frick Collection, New York • to October 26 • frick.org
Rose Birnbaum is an editorial intern for The Magazine ANTIQUES and MODERN Magazine.
