If you like paintings by old masters as much as I do, Madrid is a great city. There are at least two world-class museums for classical painting here (the Prado and the Thyssen-Bornemisza) and lots of other places with masterpieces by old masters.
Yesterday, I visited one of those, the Ermita de San Antonio de Florida. A little church near the center of Madrid, it was decorated by Goya in 1798 with wonderful frescoes painted in a vivid, spontaneous style. In the church, there is no artificial lighting. All the light floods in from outside through small windows, which adds to the dreamlike quality of the paintings.
The walls and ceilings are covered with female angels with sweet and benign faces. Goya painted them in yummy colors, mostly using subtle combinations of a limited set of colors: grey, rose and mauve, with here and there a splash of oxblood red.
According to a plaque with explanations in the church, back when the frescoes were painted, representing angels as female was a new thing. Before 1798, angels were mostly male I guess (or non-binary, maybe).
A fresco is a painting made al fresco, meaning paint is applied on a fresh layer of plaster. First, part of a wall or ceiling is covered in plaster. Then, the painter has to hurry because this section of the painting must be finished before the plaster is dry. Then a new area is covered in plaster and the painter continues the process until the wall or ceiling is covered. The painting becomes an integral part of the wall.
The technique gives the painting a spontaneous quality because the artist has to hurry, and it creates the typical colors of fresco painting because the plaster soaks up part of the paint, softening its color.
In the church, there is a 6-meter-wide dome in the middle of the ceiling, with a small window in the middle to let light in. On the inside of the dome, Goya painted Saint Anthony raising a man from death. Judging by his greenish color, the man has been buried for quite a while. Regular folks: farmers, laborers, drunken gentlemen, and gossiping maids stand at the railing all around the dome, looking at the miracle with interest (most of them at least). A boy is balancing on the railing precariously while looking at the saint in admiration.
The best way to see the paintings on the ceiling would be to lie on the ground and gaze up. I would have done so but for the vigilant attendant who was sitting in the corner, looking at me with a stern face. Luckily, in this church they have placed horizontal mirrors on stilts, mounted at a slight angle. You can see a perfect reflection of the painted ceilings without lying down or hurting your neck trying to look up to heaven. Great solution, Madrid!
Goya died in 1828 in Bordeaux and was buried there. Then, in 1901, the Spanish government wanted to return his remains to Spain. When his grave was dug up his skull was missing. The Spanish consul sent a cable to his superiors, and they responded: “ Send Goya, with or without head.”
Ultimately, in 1919, his remains were moved to this little church, where the host of sweet angels he painted more than two centuries ago will watch over him until all the dead are resurrected.
It was lovely to spend 45 minutes of my life in this little gem of a church.