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From Crete to Toledo: El Greco and the Reinvention of Spanish Painting.

FEATURE Image: El Greco (Domenikos Theotokopoulos), Laocoön, oil on canvas, 1604-1614, 55 7/8 x 76″, National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. In Greek and Roman mythology, Laocoön is a Trojan priest who warned the Trojans to destroy the Trojan Horse sent by the Athenians and is punished with death by the gods for it. More details on the artwork in the post.

El Greco (Doménikos Theotókopoulos) was one of the most original artistic visionaries in history, utilizing a deeply personal, expressive style of Mannerism—characterized by elongated figures, deliberate scale manipulation, and jarring colors—to transform dramatic biblical and mythological narratives into profound mystical events. His artwork beautifully synthesizes his formal Greek icon training, the vibrant oil techniques of the Venetian school, and Roman monumentality to reflect complex theological themes and deep spiritual struggles.

c. 1590 The Agony in the Garden, Domenikos Theotokopoulos, called El Greco, oil on canvas, 40 1/4 x 44 3/4 in. (102.2 x 113.7 cm) Toledo Museum of Art, Gallery 15. November 2012. Author’s photograph.1.32mb 101_0977.

From the Toledo, OH, museum label: With his intensely personal style, El Greco (“the Greek”) is one of the most original artistic visionaries of any era. Born Doménikos Theotókopoulos on the Greek island of Crete, he trained in Venice and Rome before settling in Toledo, Spain, where he painted this picture. Jesus is shown praying in the Garden of Gethsemane, outside Jerusalem, just before his arrest for his teachings (Judas and the Roman soldiers are approaching at the right). His disciples Peter, James, and John sleep at left. The consciously manipulated scale of the elongated figures, the intentionally jarring colors, and the deliberately confusing space (where exactly is the angel in relationship to the sleeping apostles?) add to the drama and emotion of the scene and capture Christ’s spiritual struggle as he agonizes over his coming crucifixion. Combining aspects from all four biblical accounts of the narrative for his own interpretation of the story, El Greco gives visual form to Christ’s metaphor in Matthew 26:42—”Oh my Father, if this cup may not pass away from me, except I drink it, thy will be done.” see – The Agony in the Garden – Search el greco (Objects) – Search – eMuseum – retrieved December 10, 2025.

1590-1595 Agony in the Garden oil on canvas 103 × 131 National Gallery, London

While the two versions of Agony in the Garden by El Greco share an almost identical horizontal composition, the differences between the example in the Toledo Museum of Art and the one in London’s National Gallery are striking. The Toledo painting is fully autograph, executed by El Greco’s own hand, and serves as the prime original prototype for this particular composition. It displays tighter control, greater expressive intensity, and the fluid, energetic drapery that characterizes the master’s finest work. The London version, by contrast, is a later workshop replica produced to satisfy strong demand for the image and executed largely by assistants under El Greco’s supervision. Its forms are somewhat simplified, and its fabric folds appear more rigid and mechanical, reflecting the touch of a copyist rather than the master himself. El Greco’s authentic hand in the Toledo, OH, painting is especially evident in the highly complex, faceted, gemstone-like treatment of Christ’s brilliant crimson robe, where sharp white highlights transition dramatically into saturated reds. Equally characteristic is the deep, cavernous shadow that envelops the sleeping apostles, heightening the painting’s spiritual tension and emotional power.

El Greco’s surviving oeuvre is estimated to be around 500 paintings.

1595–1600 El Greco (Domenikos Theotokopoulos), Self-Portrait or Portrait of an Old Man, oil on canvas, 52.7 cm × 46.7 cm (20.7 in × 18.4 in), The Metropolitian Museum of Art, New York.

Usually identified as a self-portrait, it is supported by the fact that the same figure appears several times in El Greco’s oeuvre and ages alongside the artist. The portrait shows the influence of Titian (1489-1576) and Tintoretto (c.1518-1594) whose artwork El Greco saw in Venice.

Enduring Architectural Inspiration:

The grand backdrops of his paintings often echoed the columned architecture and arcades he witnessed during his foundational time in Venice.

1600 El Greco (Domenikos Theotokopoulos), Cleansing of Temple, 41 ½ x 50 ½ inches, National Gallery London. https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/el-greco-christ-driving-the-traders-from-the-temple – retrieved November 18, 2024.

El Greco painted this episode of the Purification of the Temple many times, a story that appears in all four Gospels. The artist used intense colors and exaggerated gestures to express the chaos and disruption of the moment when Jesus Christ, angry that the temple was being used for sinful commerce and not prayer, makes a whip and uses it to drive out the traders selling animals for sacrifice. In the upper left corner is a painted sculpture of the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the Garden by the Angel of God reinforcing the message of sinfulness in the trader’s actions in the scene. At right in contrast, Christ’s apostles stand beneath a painted relief sculpture of faithful Abraham. The story of the Purification of the Temple told in Chapter 2 of John’s Gospel relates: “…Jesus went up to Jerusalem. He found in the temple area those who sold oxen, sheep, and doves, as well as the money-changers seated there. He made a whip out of cords and drove them all out of the temple area, with the sheep and oxen, and spilled the coins of the money-changers and overturned their tables, and to those who sold doves he said, ‘Take these out of here, and stop making my Father’s house a marketplace.'” El Greco painted Christ’s body energetically twisted with his right arm raised and ready to strike the man draped in yellow cloth he is gazing at. The man in yellow mirrors Christ’s pose as he recoils, arching his back and raising his hand to protect himself. The figures behind him lean in the same direction backwards to avoid being struck in the melée. The painting shows El Greco’s debt to Renaissance art such as Titian and Michelangelo (1475-1564) whose artwork El Greco studied during his travels to Venice and Rome. The figures behind Christ are much calmer. The gray-bearded man with his hand on his knee looking up in a yellow and blue costume is identified as Simon Peter. While the foreground setting suggests a grand columned one that is only partially seen, the buildings in the background with their arched arcades were likely inspired by architecture El Greco saw in Venice in 1568.

El Greco arrived in Toledo, Spain, by July 1577 and remained in the city for the rest of his life until his death on April 7, 1614.

1596–1600 View of Toledo oil on canvas 121.3 × 108.6 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

Painting around 20 years after El Greco’s arrival to Toledo, it stands as one of the most enigmatic masterpieces in Western art because pure, independent landscape painting essentially did not exist in late 16th-century Spain. When El Greco first arrived in Toledo in 1577, he was still painting with a heavily Italian Renaissance-influenced style focused on monumental human figures and clean perspective. By the late 1590s, he had fully embraced extreme Mannerism—using rhythmic distortion, elongated lines, and supernatural light. Art historians theorize that View of Toledo is an artwork where the artist applied this highly developed, intensely psychological style to a physical place rather than the human figure in a religious or mythological setting.

In 1561, King Philip II had permanently moved the royal court from Toledo to Madrid, stripping Toledo of its status as the political capital. By the late 1590s, the city’s elite intellectual circles—many of whom were El Greco’s closest patrons—were deeply invested in preserving Toledo’s prestige as the spiritual and historical heart of Spain. Scholars believe this painting was commissioned as a form of cultural propaganda where El Greco painted it as a living, breathing testament to the divine forces that his patron circle believed guarded the ancient city and whose swirling, dark, lightning-charged sky marked it with the numinous presence of God.

c. 1608 View and Plan of Toledo, El Greco Museum (Museo del Greco) in Toledo, Spain.
 

Tavera Hospital rests on the large white cloud in the foreground so that it did not block the view of the city’s grand Bisagra Gate behind it.The artist explains this artistic choice on the large scroll/map held by the young man on the right (often identified as El Greco’s son, Jorge Manuel). At left the golden muscular figure pouring water represents an allegory of the Tagus River, symbolizing the lifeblood and natural wealth of Toledo, while the Virgin Mary and angels float in the heavens directly above the city.

Theological Integration:

His artwork served as a powerful tool of the Counter-Reformation in Toledo, Spain, visually giving form to high Catholic theology, scripture, and mystical stories to combat contemporary heresies.

1577-79 El Greco, The Assumption of the Virgin (Church of Santo Domingo el Antiguo, Toledo, Spain), The Art Institute of Chicago.

Part of an altar ensemble, Assumption of the Virgin is 13 feet high and 7 feet 6 inches wide. In the painting there are two principal groups – the Virgin and angels above and, below, the 12 apostles and an empty sarcophagus. It was the first major commission for El Greco for the Bernadine Convent Santo Domingo el Antiguo in Toledo, Spain. It was in the funerary chapel of Doña María de Silva. El Greco in Spain is first recorded on July 2, 1577 (Toledo Museum of Art, El Greco of Toledo, (exhibition catalog), Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1982, p.16). On August 8, 1577 a contract was made for the main altar series  which included The Assumption of the Virgin. El Greco agreed to complete the project in twenty months for a  payment of 1500 ducats. The artist signed and dated The Assumption in 1577 and was paid in full in 1578. The painting was installed in September 1579 and remained in the church for the next almost 250 years. (Ibid., p 152; Wood, James, AIC – Essential Guide, Chicago, 2003, p.131). In 1827 The Assumption of the Virgin was purchased by Infante Don Sebastián Gabriel de Borbón (“S.G.”). An inventory of S.G.’s estate lists The Assumption as #26, one of only two sixteenth century Spanish paintings in his collection of more than 200 works. The listing reads: “Otro en id de 14 pies y 5 pulgadas de alto por 8 pies y 3 pulgadas de cnaho. Su asunto, la Ascension de la Virgen, y los Apóstoles, alrededor de Sepulcro. Esta restaurado por Bueno. Tiene marco tallado y dorado…Dominico Greco.” [“Another in dimension (ideación) of 14 feet and 5 inches high by 8 feet and 3 inches wide. Its subject, the Assumption of the Virgin, and the Apostles, around the sepulcher. It was restored on the up and up. It has carved and gilt markings.” – my translation.] (Agueda, Mercedes, “La colección de pinturas del infante Don Sebastián Gabriel,” Boletín del Museo de Prado, iii/8 (1982), pp.103 and 106; 102-17; American Art News, Jan. 7, 1905, Vol. III, p.1.; Toledo Museum of Art, El Greco of Toledo, p.153). In 1837 S.G.’s collection of paintings was confiscated because of his political (pro-Carlist) activities. Along with pictures acquired from the suppression of the religious orders during the Napoleonic occupation (1800-12) his collection of paintings (including presumably #26 in his 1835 inventory) was exhibited at the Museo de la Trinidad. (Boletín, p. 103; Groveart.com, “Borbón y Braganza, Don Infante Sebastián Gabriel.”) S.G.’s property was returned to him shortly before his death in 1875. The Prado describes events until 1902 like this: “La colección…a la muerte del Infante…fue nuevamente exhibida en publico por sus herederos con motivo de una venta realizada en Pau en 1876, añadiéndose al núcleo primitivo de la colección la parte correspondiente llevada al matrimonio por su segunda esposa, Ma Cristina de Borbón. En 1890, su hijo Pedro pone en venta en el Hotel Druot de Paris parte de la colección y unos años más tarde se hace lo mismo en Madrid, bajo el nombre de la Infanta Maria Cristina. De las tres ventas sucesivas 1876, 1890 y 1902 se desprende como los colecciónistas fueron despojando del conjunto todo lo que podriamos llamar grandes piezas…”[… the collection at the death of the Infante was exhibited anew in public in a sale held in Pau in 1876 for the benefit of his heirs. Adding itself to the primitive nucleus of the collection was that respective part brought to the marriage by his second wife, Mrs. Cristina de Borbón. In 1890, her son Pedro put up for sale at the Hotel Druot in Paris another part of the collection and some years later did the same thing in Madrid under the name of the Infanta Maria Cristina. From these three successive sales of 1876, 1890 and 1902 the collectors were divesting themselves of whatever would be called the great pieces…” – my translation]. It is not yet clear at which of these three sales if any The Assumption of the Virgin found itself. What remained after the final sale in 1902 stayed in the possession of Borbón heirs. (Boletín, p. 104). In January 1905 The Assumption of the Virgin was purchased by Durand-Ruel and exhibited in his Paris gallery. (American Art News, Jan. 7, 1905, vol. III, p.1). Durand-Ruel had purchased it from the Spanish Bourbon family into whose possession it came in 1811. The painting was being exhibited at the Prado when Durand-Ruel purchased it in January 1905. Durand-Ruel was dealing in other El Grecos around that time such as acquiring his Laocoön in 1910 and selling it to Paul Cassirer in Berlin by October 1915 (today it is in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.). On July 17, 1906, The Assumption of the Virgin was purchased by The Art Institute of Chicago for 200,000ff from Durand-Ruel in Paris. This purchase for an American museum reflected the daring and independent judgment of its purchasers. The painting had always been praised as the artist’s most beautiful and was considered a homage to Titian’s composition in the Church of Santa Maria Gloriosa dei Frari in Venice while also expressing Roman monumentality. (Horowitz, Helen L., Culture and the City: Cultural Philanthropy in Chicago from the 1880s to 1917, Lexington: The University Press of Kentucky, 1976, p. 101; The Art Institute Chicago 28th Annual Report, June 1, 1906-June 1, 1907, pp.20 and 59; Toledo Museum of Art, El Greco of Toledo, p.153). In February 1915 Mrs. Nancy Atwood Sprague, widow of Art Institute of Chicago Trustee Arnold Sprague, gave $50,000 to defray the artwork’s purchase expenses. From the very beginning this El Greco painting was considered the Museum’s most important acquisition of the year and called the greatest work of El Greco outside Spain. (Chicago Art Institute Bulletin, Mar. 1, 1915, p. 34).

1577-79 El Greco (Domenikos Theotokopoulos), The Holy Trinity, 300 x 178 cm, oil on canvas, Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain.

The painting of the Holy Trinity was part of the altar ensemble for El Greco’s first major commission. It was above The Assumption of the Virgin with God the Father holding the dead Christ surrounded by angels and a white dove hovering above signifying the Holy Spirit.

1586 The Burial of the Count of Orgaz oil on canvas 480 × 360 Church of San Tomé, Toledo
1577-1579 El Greco (Domenikos Theotokopoulos), The Disrobing of Christ (“El Espolio”), oil on canvas, 285 x 173 cm, Sacristy, Cathedral, Toledo.

One of the finest and most important paintings of El Greco’s career, El Espolio was commissioned on July 2, 1577, by Diego de Castilla, the dean of the cathedral in Toledo, Spain, and hung in the vestry (where clergy dress in their vestments). In 1612 it was moved into a re-modelled sacristy (where the sacred vessels are held) and placed in a new post and lintel frame in the 1790’s. El Greco shows Christ looking serenely skyward, a pathway of clouds signaling upwards to his Father in Heaven. In the center of the painting, Christ is dressed in a bright red robe as he is being tormented by his captors. A figure behind his left shoulder points at Christ accusingly while a man in green holds a rope tied around Christ with one hand as the other is ready to disrobe his garment. Two others behind Christ argue over who will get his garments. Christ’s imminent crucifixion is signaled by the man in yellow at the lower right bending over a cross and drilling holes into the wood preparing it for the nails to be driven through Christ’s feet. At the lower left are the three Mary’s who contemplate the crucifixion scene with distress. The man dressed in typical 16th century armor was likely a contemporary portrait and may be intended to represent the Roman centurion. The disrobing incident may be inferred by the mention in all four gospels of the Roman soldiers playing dice for his robe. Apocryphal sources describe this moment of disrobing that include the figural and narrative elements depicted in El Greco’s painting. The artwork was intended for the vestry where a priest dresses for the Mass, a ritual action that mystically re-presents under the sacramental signs of bread and wine the same sacrifice of Christ on Calvary’s cross. This significance becomes El Greco’s main focus in the picture as Christ’s blood red robe is executed with a dynamic and energetic technique. see – El Greco, David Davies, National Gallery Company, London, 2003, p.122.

1597–1599 Saint Joseph and the Christ Child oil on canvas 289 × 147, Capilla de San José (Chapel of Saint Joseph) in Toledo, Spain

El Greco painted this massive piece (289 × 147 cm) specifically for the high altar of the standalone Chapel of Saint Joseph (Capilla de San José) in Toledo, where the original masterpiece remains on display today

1597-1599 El Greco, Saint Martin of Tours and the Beggar, oil on canvas, 193.5 × 103 cm (76 3/16 × 40 9/16 in.), National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C. https://www.nga.gov/collection/art-object-page.1164.html – retrieved November 11, 2024.

The painting was commissioned by Martín Ramírez for the Chapel of San José in Toledo, Spain. El Greco painted miracles as matter of fact. St. Martin and The Beggar depicts a scene from a low vantage point looking up to a monumental knight sharing his cloak with an attenuated, nearly otherworldly figure of a naked beggar. St. Martin of Tours (d.397), part of the Imperial Calvary stationed near Amiens during the times of Roman Emperor Constantine, sits mounted on a magnificent white Arabian steed and is dressed in stylishly practical soldier regalia from head to foot signifying his noble role and power to survey this emerald green landscape that is Toledo and the Tagus river. Martin’s green cloak is one part of his regalia but, on a cold autumn or winter day, his heart burns to divide it with his sword so to share it with this naked bandaged stranger he meets on the road. The encounter and action are modest and profound simultaneously– a typical social setting yet not merely transactional within a rigidly conceived social order but a tender act of charity. Martin rode off with his half cloak and thought of his soldierly duties. Yet it afforded a miracle. That night, tradition relates, Christ appeared to Martin in a dream revealing that the beggar the knoght shared his cloak with was Him.

1597-1599 Madonna and Child with Saint Martina and Saint Agnes National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.

The painting was originally commissioned alongside Saint Martin and the Beggar to decorate the side altars of the Capilla de San José (Chapel of Saint Joseph) in Toledo, Spain. It depicts the Virgin Mary and infant Jesus floating upon celestial clouds, flanked by angels, while looking down upon two early Christian virgin martyrs below: Saint Martina (kneeling next to a lion) and Saint Agnes (holding a lamb).

1595 The Holy Family with Saint Anne (also frequently referred to as Our Lady of Good Milk), Hospital de Tavera (managed by the Fundación Casa Ducal de Medinaceli) in Toledo, Spain.

This particular composition is highly distinct from El Greco’s other versions of the Holy Family. Here, he focuses on an intimate, tender moment by portraying the Virgin Mary as a nursing Madonna (Virgen de la Leche). She is joined by her mother Saint Anne caressing the infant Jesus’s head, while Saint Joseph stands watch protectively on the right. Scientific analysis using X-radiographs has shown that El Greco initially sketched a highly naturalistic portrait of Mary’s face before stylized and elongating it into his iconic, otherworldly Mannerist aesthetic

c.1580 Christ Carrying the Cross oil on canvas 105 × 79 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
1597–1600 Christ Carrying the Cross oil on canvas 108 × 78 Prado, Madrid.
c.1590 Christ on the Cross with two Donors oil on canvas 260 × 171 Louvre Museum, Paris

Next 3 images, detail of above:

1597 -1600 The Resurrection Museo del Prado in Madrid, Spain.

This magnificent canvas was originally commissioned in 1596 as part of a grand multi-painting altarpiece ensemble for the church of the Colegio de Doña María de Aragón in Madrid. The painting displays the absolute height of El Greco’s late Mannerist style. Christ is depicted completely weightless, holding a white banner that symbolizes his triumph over death, while soaring gracefully above a mass of wildly contorted, startled Roman soldiers below. El Greco uses extreme vertical elongation (scorcio) and an ethereal, ghostly light to elevate the physical event into a supernatural, deeply mystical plane.

c. 1605 El Greco, Saint John the Evangelist, oil on canvas, 35 1/4 x 30 3/8 in., Prado, Madrid. https://www.museodelprado.es/en/the-collection/art-work/saint-john-the-evangelist/b107d798-268f-41aa-8b4c-f47eff9c1768 – retrieved November 19, 2024.

This painting shows St. John the Evangelist in a half-figure which has a clear precedent in the Venetian school where El Greco completed his training. Crete, where El Greco was born, was a Venetian possession. El Greco arrived to Venice as a teenager in the late 1550s or early 1560s where he worked with Titian (c. 1490-1576) but became the admirer and heir of Tintoretto (c. 1518-1594). El Greco, who studied icon painting in Crete, learned the medium of oil from its virtuoso Titian, but once in Venice, El Greco quite normally was attracted to Tintoretto, the city’s then-modern master. “The Greek” did not simply imitate Tintoretto’s exterior forms but very personally emulated his deeply spiritual and expressive Mannerism. In this later painting, El Greco depicts the tradition that John the Evangelist was in Rome when the Emperor Domitian (51-96) tried to assassinate Jesus of Nazareth’s young apostle by poisoning the wine in his Mass chalice. But the legend relates that the poison turned into a fabulous serpent tipping off John and his holy companions and doing them no harm. Like Lorenzo Lotto (c. 1480-1556), El Greco depicts this story’s externals surrounding John – be it the heavy chalice, poisonous serpent exorcised from it, or the expressive hands of the apostle holding the cup of sacrifice and motioning towards it – to scrutinize the inner conviction or character of the sitter, the young author of the Johannine corpus of a gospel, three letters, and the book of Revelation. On John’s Gospel Cornelius à Lapide (1567-1637) wrote that the Evangelist was indeed the eagle (inspired by a description in Ezekiel) who soars skyward and swoops down to earth for his prey. John wrote the last canonical gospel in 99 with combatting that day’s Christian heresies in mind, specifically those that denied Christ’s divinity – whom in his epistles he called “anti-Christs.” John conveys sacred ideas with a rusticity of style. The 17th century theologian and biblical scholar Cornelius à Lapide affirmed that “John was most like Christ” and that the disciple loved the master supremely and the master held the disciple most dear. Because of the relationship of Jesus and John, the biblical scholar claimed, “when you read and hear John [in his gospel, letters, and book of Revelation] think that you read and hear Christ.” He quotes St. Jerome who claimed that Christ transfused his own spirit and his own love including “the purest streams of Jesus Christ’s Doctrines” into Saint John. This relationship is signaled by John’s reclining on the breast of Christ at the Last Supper. John, now in old age, was pressed by all the bishops in Asia and many others to write a “breakthrough” account claiming of the deepest things of the Divinity of the savior. John agreed with the condition that the whole church fast before he embarked on the project and when the fast ended John began: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2He was in the beginning with God. 3All things came to be through him, and without him nothing came to be.” Nothing is stronger to attest to the origin, eternity, and generation of the divinity of the Christ. John wrote in the Greek language because he was addressing Greeks but, again according to Cornelius à Lapide, the gospel is filled with Hebrew phrases and idioms because St. John was a Hebrew who loved his native language. Though John relates Jesus’s miracles as proof that Christ was the Messiah, God as well as man – including the singular accounts of the changing water to wine at the wedding feast of Cana (chapter 2) and the raising of Lazarus from the dead (chapter 11) – John less relates actions of Christ as found in the synoptics Matthew, Mark, and L uke who focused on his humanity and much more of the discourses and disputations that Christ had with the Jews (mostly its rulers), again with none other than the same purpose to prove his theology meant for the whole world that Christ was “God as well as man.” In John’s gospel a careful examination of contexts needs to occur because Christ speaks sometimes as man and sometimes as God. Its high theology which dealt with the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, unity of the Godhead, and divine relations and attributes became that gospel in the next centuries that the bishops referenced to combat their day’s heresies such as Arianism (which denied Christ’s Divinity), the Docetists (who denied Christ’s humanity), and Nestorians (who denied Christ’s dual natures). John had favorite terms and ideas he repeated in his gospel – calling Christ “the Life” and “the Light.” Calling saints “the children of light.” Calling sin “darkness.”

1602–1607 Saint James the Less (Toledo series) oil on canvas 98 × 78 Toledo Cathedral, Toledo, Spain

Mastery of Expressionist Mannerism:

Rather than merely copying Italian masters, he evolved a highly individualistic Mannerist style, bending rules of perspective and physical anatomy to elevate human emotion to a spiritual, otherworldly plane.

c.1600 Portrait of a Cardinal (possibly Fernando Niño de Guevara) oil on canvas 67.2 × 42.5 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York
1609 Portrait of Cardinal Tavera oil on canvas 103 × 82 Tavera Hospital, Toledo, Spain.
1587–1600 Portrait of an Elderly Man (also known as An Elderly Gentleman or Portrait of an Old Nobleman), Museo del Prado in Madrid, Spain.

This piece is widely considered one of El Greco’s finest and most psychologically profound portraits. Rather than focusing on grand status symbols, El Greco isolates the subject against a dark, minimalist background to highlight the gentleman’s somber expression and weary eyes.

The signature on the right is written in Greek script as “Doménikos Theotokópoulos epoíei” (Doménikos Theotokópoulos made this), which was the artist’s traditional way of proudly reclaiming his Cretan heritage while operating in Spain.

1592–1595 Saint Louis IX with a Page, oil on canvas, 120 × 96, Louvre Museum, Paris
1595 Female Portrait (also known as Portrait of a Lady), Philadelphia Museum of Art.
1580 The Nobleman with his Hand on his Chest oil on canvas 81.8 × 65.8 Prado, Madrid.

The Nobleman with his Hand on his Chest is the definitive visual symbol of the Spanish Golden Age aristocrat and stands as one of the most famous portraits in Western art history. After a 1996 restoration, modern art historians now widely agree that the man is Juan de Silva y de Ribera, the Marquis of Montemayor and the military commander of the Alcázar of Toledo. The elongated hand pressed flat against the chest is a solemn declaration of chivalric honor, or an expression of deep Christian piety. He holds a beautifully detailed, gold-gilt sword hilt, a direct symbol of his knightly status and military authority. A gold medallion or pendant hangs from his neck, partially tucked into his doublet, suggesting office in a religious or military order.

Stylistic Evolution & Influence:

Born in Crete and trained in Byzantine icon painting, El Greco moved to Venice and Rome where he absorbed the structural monumentality of Michelangelo and the rich colorito and fluid brushwork of Titian and Tintoretto.

1608–1614 The Saviour The primary version featuring this distinct neutral background and composition is housed in the El Greco Museum (Museo del Greco) in Toledo, Spain. El Greco and his workshop produced a few variations of this subject as the centerpiece for larger Apostle series (Apostolados), meaning very similar authenticated versions can also be found in the Prado Museum in Madrid and the National Galleries of Scotland in Edinburgh.

This composition draws heavily on traditional Byzantine Christian iconography—specifically the Pantocrator (Christ as Ruler of All), reflecting the formal religious icon training El Greco received during his youth in Crete before moving to Italy and Spain. He depicts Christ half-length against a dark, minimalist background, with his right hand raised in a traditional gesture of blessing while his left hand rests atop a crystal-like globe representing the world. The sharp, diamond-shaped (rhombus) halo behind his head and heavily elongated facial features are hallmarks of El Greco’s late, intensely spiritual Mannerist style.

1603 Saint Bernardino of Siena oil on canvas 269 × 144 El Greco Museum, Toledo, (Toledo, Spain) (Property of Prado, Madrid)
1609 Saint Jerome oil on canvas 108 × 87 Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.
1609 Portrait of Fray Hortensio Félix Paravacino oil on canvas 112.1 × 86.1 Museum of Fine Arts, Boston

A Matter-of-Fact Approach to Miracles:

He painted divine interventions and mythological events not as distant, impossible magic, but with a stark, contemporary reality, placing ancient tales like Laocoön directly into 16th-century Spanish landscapes.

National Gallery of Art, Washington, D.C.

As mentioned in the feature image caption, Laocoön is a Trojan priest in Greek and Roman mythology who warned the Trojans to destroy the Trojan Horse sent by the Athenians by which they won the war. “I fear the Greeks even when they bear gifts,” he told them (see Edith Hamilton, Mythology, p. 285). Laocoön and his two sons are punished for revealing this truth by the gods. They are attacked by giant serpents sent out of the sea by Apollo and Artemis that bit and crushed them to death and then slithered away into Athena’s Temple in the city. The Trojans, instead of heeding their priest’s warning and seeing his death for what it was — the punishment for telling them the truth of the danger of the Trojan Horse — viewed it as warning not to question the entry of the monumental wooden horse into the city. They pulled it in, set it in front of Athena’s Temple, and went to their homes believing they had won a peace that had not happened in ten years. El Greco set the artwork outside Toledo giving the ancient tale a contemporary context and unique interpretation. Though Laocoön and his two sons’ fates are sealed, the artist captures a unified centrifugal movement with individualized figures in bare-faced struggle after exercising their prudential judgment that is witnessed by dispassionate onlookers as if in a dream.

Laocoön and His Sons, 1st CE?, marble, 242 cm high, Vatican Museums, Vatican City. The classical marble sculpture was unearthed in 1506 and housed in the Belvedere in the Vatican. Its discovery aroused great excitement in the Renaissance art world and numerous copies were made. El Greco’s painted extrapolation was taking this passion of classical suffering to the level of one’s own modern synthetic invention where the colorful sensation of upheaval is dynamic. PHOTO: “Laocoön and His Sons” by JuanMa is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0.

 1614. Opening of the Fifth Seal Metropolitan Museum of Art

This painting depicts a dramatic passage from the Bible’s Book of Revelation (6:9–11), where the souls of martyred saints cry out to God for justice while receiving white robes. The ecstatic figure on the left is Saint John the Evangelist, gesturing toward the heavens.

This piece represents the absolute peak of El Greco’s late, highly abstract Mannerism. Its radical distortion of human anatomy, chaotic drapery, and emotional intensity had a profound, direct influence on 20th-century modern art. In fact, Pablo Picasso spent months studying this exact canvas in Paris before painting his groundbreaking Cubist masterpiece, Les Demoiselles d’Avignon.

SOURCES:

El Greco, Leo Bronstein, Harry N. Abrams, Inc. New York, 1990.
El Greco of Toledo, Jonathan Brown, William B. Jordan, Richard L. Kagan, Alfonso E. Perez Sanchez, Little, Brown, Boston. 1982.
El Greco, David Davies, National Gallery Company, London, 2003.
Mythology Timeless Tales of Gods and Heroes, Edith Hamilton, Grand Central Publishing, New York and Boston (originally published in 1942).



Beyond Town Walls: How Assisi’s Despised Outcasts Sparked the True Calling of Saint Francis in Roberto Rossellini’s “The Flowers of St. Francis” (1950).

FEATURE Image: Saint Francis kissing the leper, Zacarías González Velázquez, oil on canvas, c. 1787, 217×264 cm, Prado, Madrid. The painting is part of a serial of thirty-three scenes on the “Life of Saint Francis” commissioned for the Basilica of Saint Francis the Great in Madrid done by multiple Spanish painters. The artist was inspired by Saint Bonaventure’s biography of St. Francis that recounts this scene of Francis, dressed in the luxurious clothes of a rich knight, as he dismounts from his steed to kiss a leper. see – Saint Francis Embracing a Leper – The Collection – Museo Nacional del Prado – retrieved October 4, 2017.

By John P. Walsh

The April 20, 1949 photograph of Roberto Rossellini and Ingrid Bergman captures a pivotal turning point at which artistic collaboration, personal scandal, and cinematic innovation converged. As public fascination with their relationship intensified, Rossellini turned toward the creation of The Flowers of St. Francis (1950), a film whose central episode, Francis’s embrace of a leper despite his initial revulsion, presents spiritual transformation as the triumph over fear and self-interest. In doing so, the Italian neorealist director fashioned a work that also served as a retreat from public controversy into a world of humility, simplicity, and faith.

PHOTO: Roberto Rossellini and Ingrid Bergman – “Roberto Rossellini and Ingrid Bergman” by classic film scans is marked with CC BY 2.0.

A Photograph at the Eye of the Storm

Italian director Roberto Rossellini and Swedish actress Ingrid Bergman are seen in a photograph taken by an uncredited Associated Press photographer on April 20, 1949, during a press conference at Rome’s Excelsior Hotel. Bergman had just arrived in Italy after writing her famous, career-altering letter to Rossellini, and the announced purpose of the gathering was to discuss their forthcoming collaboration, Stromboli.

The image captures a pivotal moment. Rossellini was already celebrated as the leading architect of Italian neorealism through such postwar landmarks as Open City and Paisan, while Bergman was one of the world’s most admired film stars and an Academy Award winner. Their expressions and proximity suggest a shared artistic purpose and creative excitement. Yet the photograph also unintentionally records the beginning of a relationship that would soon become one of the most scrutinized scandals in international celebrity culture, dominating headlines and ultimately leading to their marriage on May 24, 1950.

From Public Scandal to Spiritual Retreat

Ironically, while caught in this intensifying media storm, Rossellini turned toward one of the most serene and spiritually focused projects of his career: Francesco, giullare di Dio (The Flowers of St. Francis, 1950). The film emerged in part from his desire to escape the relentless attention surrounding his private life. In place of scandal, fame, and controversy, Rossellini sought a subject grounded in humility, simplicity, peace, and detachment from worldly concerns.

Co-written with the young Federico Fellini, the film drew its structure and themes from two fourteenth-century Franciscan texts: I Fioretti di San Francesco (The Little Flowers of St. Francis) and La Vita di Frate Ginepro (The Life of Brother Juniper). Rather than constructing a conventional biographical narrative, Rossellini assembled a series of nine loosely connected episodes that celebrate the joy, innocence, and spiritual freedom of Saint Francis and his followers.

Neorealism and Franciscan Simplicity

Remaining faithful to his neorealist principles, Rossellini rejected professional actors and cast actual Franciscan friars from the Monastery of Nocera Inferiore as Francis and his companions. The production sought not spectacle but authenticity. Equally important was Rossellini’s ambition to strip away any cinematic artifice in favor of directness and humanity so to recreate on screen the visual spirit of Giotto’s proto-Renaissance frescoes of the Life of St. Francis.

Viewed in retrospect, the 1949 photograph of Rossellini and Bergman marks far more than the beginning of Stromboli. It stands at the intersection of two parallel stories: one a highly publicized romance that captivated the world, the other the creation of a film devoted to spiritual humility and transcendence. The contrast reveals the remarkable complexity of Rossellini’s career at the very moment his personal and artistic lives became inseparably entwined.

https://youtu.be/bHHH6kP3hGE?si=peIL38eajdR53KNi – retrieved January 29, 2026.

The Embrace That Changed a Life

One of the most important episodes in the life of St. Francis of Assisi (c. 1181-1226) appears midway through Roberto Rossellini’s 1950 film Francesco, giullare di Dio (The Flowers of St. Francis). In a powerful five-minute sequence (Beginning at 41:00), Francis deliberately seeks out and embraces a leper, one of the most feared and socially ostracized figures of the medieval world.

This encounter marks a decisive turning point. Until this moment, Francis had recoiled from lepers, sharing the fears and prejudices common to his age. By overcoming that revulsion and embracing the suffering man before him, he crossed the threshold from worldly, military ambition to love, humility and poverty based in spiritual commitment.

A Moment of Spiritual Transformation

Following the embrace, Francis collapses to the ground in tears and cries out, “My God, my Lord and my all! O great God!” The emotional outpouring signals a profound inner conversion. What begins as an act of compassion becomes an encounter with the divine.

For Francis, embracing the leper means more than helping someone in need. It represents the conquest of his own fear, pride, and self-interest. The rich young man from Assisi discovers a new path rooted in humility, love, and obedience to God.

The Bridge Between Two Lives

Historically and spiritually, the embrace of the leper forms the bridge between Francis’s failed military and worldly aspirations and his lifelong dedication to radical poverty, humility, and service. In Christian tradition, it is the pivotal catalyst of his transformation, the moment when he turns away from status and ambition and begins the journey that would make him one of the most beloved saints in history.

Rossellini captures this episode as the emotional and spiritual center of The Flowers of St. Francis. By portraying Francis’s willingness to embrace society’s most vulnerable outcast, the film affirms that true conversion begins not with power or achievement, but with the courage to overcome fear and recognize the dignity and humanity of others.

Is the film scene historically accurate?

The event of the embrace is historically accurate though dramatized in Rossellini’s film after Francis’s brotherhood is established. Rather, in history it occurred at the beginning of the Italian saint’s conversion – in fact, was its cause. This is an important distinction since the embrace was most significant for St. Francis. It could even be argued that without Francis’s embrace of the leper, there would be no St. Francis of Assisi at all.

In Francis’s own Testament written in 1225—one year before his death at 44 or 45 years old—the saint stated directly that his embrace of the leper became the cause of his conversion.

For a rich young man such as Francis in medieval Europe who, during an age of many French popes, sought chivalric glory in military arms, he naturally spurned the contagion of leprosy that was an incurable disease and diligently avoided lepers. As Francis put it, when he embraced the leper he “exercised mercy” to him as Francis bridged his natural ambition and religious doubt with trust in God’s grace by embracing Assisi’s despised.

In that way, the leper— a common sight throughout medieval Europe and one that readily filled the lighthearted Francis with horror—became the astonishing means for the saint’s conversion of faith.

Special order of knights founded by pope cared for lepers in Italy.

In thirteenth-century Europe, by law lepers had to live apart from the rest of society owing to their contagious infectious disease.

As early as the 6th century under Pope St. Symmachus (495–514) there were general hospitals in Rome that cared for lepers though a network of specialized leper houses became more prevalent by the 11th-century. In 1130, the hospitaller and military Order of Saint Lazarus was established so that at the Third Lateran Council in 1179, two or three years before St. Francis’s birth, Pope Alexander III helped formalize the church’s role in the care of lepers, emphasizing their separation for care rather than mere social isolation.

St. Thomas Becket takes leave of Pope Alexander III in the autumn of 1165. 13th century miniature attributed to Matthew Paris, British Library. Public domain.

In the time period that Rossellini’s poignant film scene is set — it is either 1205 or 1206—there existed in Europe tens of thousands of church-run “hospitals” for lepers. One such leper hospital was a short walk outside Assisi’s town walls. Called San Salvatore delle Pareti, the leper hospital near Assisi that began to intrigue a young Francis is today a farm field.

Before his famous encounter of embracing the leper, Francis —then around 24 years old—had to work up gradually to the crucial moment of embracing a leper.

After Francis gave up his several quests to be a soldier, he returned to Assisi disappointed and disenchanted. Though he found refuge in the embrace of family and childhood friends, the same impulses that led Francis to abandon a military career even before it started, now prompted him to walk beyond the comforts of Assisi’s walls onto the road that led to the leper hospital.

Young Francis visits the leper hospital — and it changes his life.

Near the hospital, Francis interacted very tentatively, first with those caring for lepers —a charitable church activity first recognized by Pope Gregory the Great (540-604 CE)—and then at times with the lepers themselves. 

Miniature of Gregory the Great writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, in a 12th-century copy of his Dialogues, British Library, London. Public Domain.

Come la notte Francesco pregando nella selva incontro il lebbroso —or, in English, “How St. Francis praying one night meets a leper.” This specific historical and cinematic moment represents the bridge between Francis’s failed worldly, military ambitions and his lifelong commitment to love, humility and poverty based in spiritual commitment.

The Flowers of St Francis Trailer – retrieved January 29, 2026

To start, it was the sickening smell peculiar to the leper hospital wafting into Francis’s nostrils that made him flee.

But as his visits continued Francis—who by now was living as a hermit— journeyed to the leper hospital to leave them a charitable gift. After leaving it on the roadside, Francis vanished as bell-clanging lepers appeared.

It took Francis many more visits to the leper hospital as well as, in solitude, dwelling on his own thoughts and prayers to finally reach what he believed was God’s answer for him.

As clearly dramatized in Roberto Rossellini’s wonderful film, Francis discovered a deeper courage and confidence in himself—and in the same moment a supernatural faith— when along the road to the leper hospital he stepped up to leave for the leper the charitable embrace of one of the rich sons of Assisi.

Yet, following that encounter, Francis realized that the leper had given him a gift also.

After that Francis was free to profoundly pursue whatever track God called him to run. Francis could now be called to renounce the world’s riches. He married his “Lady Poverty” in their joyous mystical marriage so that even today, in the 21st century, poverty remains a major Franciscan charism. Francis and Lady Poverty have been married for over 800 years.  

Following a lifetime spent in heroic Franciscan mendicancy, this world-famous Umbrian saint “Francesco” proclaimed to his Franciscan family and the world that it was at that exact moment when he embraced the leper—and the leper embraced him—that a life in and for God truly started.

St. Francis of Assisi has the indelible mark of the leper. He conquered fear and embraced the other in love no matter how godforsaken. Done in the context of divine trust and love, that faith-filled action set each man free.

SOURCE: St Francis of Assisi: A Biography by Johannes Jørgensen (1912). Translated from the Danish with the author’s sanction by T. O’Conor Sloane, Image books, 1955.

Sassetta (c.1392-c.1451), St. Francis in Ecstasy, back of the Sansepolcro altarpiece, 1437-44, Panel, 80 3/4 x 48 inches. Villa I Tatti, Florence.