Dominating the first room of the exhibition Art and Power: Europe under the Dictators 19301945 at the Hayward Gallery in London was a huge canvas that occupied much of the far wall. Even viewed from a distance, this dim, religiose painting--seemingly unconnected with the Soviet workers striding purposefully into the future, and all the pagan impedimenta of the Naziscould not be anything but Spanish. At once it evoked hours spent in dusty sacristies, in Avila, Burgos, or Valladolid, where bony relics of the saints were displayed for delectation and reverence. The name of José Antonio Primo de Rivera (leader of the Falange who was shot in Alicante prison in November 1936), painted on the outside wall of churches during Francos regime, flashed in the minds eye. On closer examination, the picture was found to be by José María Sert: it depicted Saint Teresa of Avila, Ambassadress of Divine Love, ...
Renee Winegarten writes regularly about French culture for The New Criterion and is the author of Accursed Politics: Some French Women Writers and Political Life (Ivan
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This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 15 March 1997, on page 29
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