Cell Cross (Cruz de Celda)

Working within this cultural framework, María Josefa Sánchez produced at least fifteen painted crucifixes, probably in Castile, between 1639 and 1652. It has been argued that Sanchez might have been a nun or a novice since the use of the word Doña in her signed crosses might suggest that she could have been a noble woman, and the existence of signed works indicates a certain level of recognition and prestige. In several versions the artist’s signature appears between a tuft of grass at the base of the cross: ‘D.MR Josepha Sánchez /faciebat’, followed by a date. Two crosses using the same model have been identified bearing the signature of Clemente Sánchez, a minor painter who practiced in the Castillian town of Aranda del Duero in the mid-seventeenth century.[2] Clemente’s crosses both bear the inscription CLEMENS SANCHEZ at the base, and are dated 1642 and 1646, years when María Josefa was also producing works that bore her name.[3] The two painters are likely to have been related.

Most of the objects by María Josefa and Clemente Sánchez comprise two narrow wooden panels of approximately 10 cm width, spanning around 50-60 cm in length and 30-40 cm width from the edges of the arms.[4] Most were constructed with the lateral piece lapped beneath the vertical. The support was prepared with a dark paint, and the edges of the cross were outlined with a thin line painted either in a light color or gilt, some of which has worn away over the years by the hands that grasped the object. A cartoon or template was then applied, from which an image of the crucified Christ and a cartellino was traced onto to the wooden support. The emaciated, elongated figure follows the vertical and horizontal lines of the crucifix. Secondary figures at the lateral edges and the base may include the sun and moon, the Virgin Mary, St. Anthony, a young girl, or a skull. When a signature is present, it is at the base of the cross, usually among grasses. Cell crosses were often produced anonymously and are only rarely associated with specific artists. The striking repetition of form and execution in María Josefa’s small, devotional images indicates the existence of a popular, probably localized, demand. The variation in the secondary details painted on each cross suggests that they were produced as individualized commissions.

The principal purpose of this object was to be a vehicle destined for devotion and introspection. Deeply rooted in Spain’s mystic tradition, this representation of the crucified Christ conforms to Tridentine exhortations that visual excess should be stripped away so as to foster a heightened sense of spiritual connection. Appropriately for a devotional object that was most likely not designed for public display, María Josefa Sánchez’s cross is devoid of artistic flourishes. The viewer is invited to confront the powerful subject matter without the distraction of secondary details, besides the presence of a skull at the foot of the cross beneath Christ’s feet.

The work under review measures 91 cm x 52 cm, around 30 cm longer and 15 cm wider than the other crosses we currently know. The crucified figure is painted in a mannerist style, that reflects the artist´s knowledge of, and interest in, other representations of the theme that were disseminated throughout Spain through prints, notably those of Luis Tristán. María Josefa’s depiction of a cross made of an unfinished tree trunk rather than prepared, smoothly planed wood may relate to a similar feature seen in Luis Tristán’s Crucifixion of ca. 1613 in the Museo delPrado. However, an Italian painter, Angelo Nardi (1584–1665), also working in Spain, used a very similar naturally hewn tree trunk in his crucifixion now in the Bowes Museum. The motif of a cross within a cross may be seen as early as a Crucifixion by Giunta Pisano, ca.1250, in the Basilica ofSan Domenico in Bologna and also in that of Paolo Veneziano, ca.1350, in the church of San Giacomo Dall’ Orio in Venice. It is not a commonrepresentation but in Spain it was taken up in the XVII century by Murillo. The fashion for naturally hewn tree trunks can also be seen in French artof the first half of the XVII century and was also adopted in Germany in the late Medieval period.

In her catalogue entry for the cell cross by Sánchez that was recently acquired by the Meadows Museum, Amanda Dotseth draws stylistic comparisons between Sánchez and a much earlier, mannerist painter, Luis de Morales whose work was widely disseminated through prints, but the present cell cross also owes much to therealism of Zurbarán, a slightly earlier artist than Sánchez.

Light from the left illuminates Christ’s elongated human form, defining the musculature of the stomach and the lower ribs, the clavicle, and the gaunt arms that emphasize the elbow joint. Shadow is also used to indicate the slight twist to the hips, caused by the single nail that secures both feet onto the cross. The same shadow obscures the lower left leg and foot. The emaciated physical human form highlighted by a raking light recalls Luis de Morales’ Crucifixion of 1566 in the Museo del Prado. Christ’s body appears almost weightless, as if he is floating rather than nailed onto a cross. Dark shadows painted around Christ’s figure produce a silhouette-like, tenebrous effect. This gives an uncanny sense of his detachment from the cross to which both his hands and feet are nailed, thus conveying the impression that the body is somehow independent of the wooden support. A sense of physical separation from the cross extends to the head, which projects forward towards the viewer’s right. The shadowed outlines may have been inspired by a knowledge of Francisco de Zurbarán’s painted scenes of the Crucifixion emerging from darkness, which appear almost sculptural, such as in the latter artist’s Crucified Christ. (fig. 2) Whereas in some cell crosses by Sánchez, such as the one recently acquired by the Art Institute of Chicago (fig. 3), Christ is represented as Christus Triumphans, in our picture Christ appears in near death, expiring. He looks upwards to his left, the anguish of his final moments communicated by his half open eyes. Both this, the Meadows, and the Chicago paintings lack the spear wound in Christ’s side which the gospel (John 19:34) relates was the result of the Roman soldier Longinus’ spear. That event took place after Christ had died on the cross and its submission underlines the fact that the worshipper was intended to contemplate a living Christ actively undergoing his torment by crucifixion. His closed mouth reminds the viewer that his physical suffering on earth served a higher purpose, in the service of which he accepted his self-sacrifice in expiation of human sin. The unsparing depiction of the figure in the final moments of His suffering accords closely with contemporary devotional imagery.

The depiction of a partially carved tree trunk as the instrument of Christ´s death seen in this painting is a significant differentiator between this and her other known works. The worshippers who held the smaller crosses portraying the human form nailed directly onto the support were ostensibly more directly in contact with the instrument of Christ’s death. The insertion of the tree trunk (a cross within a cross) between the support and the painted figure of Christ changes this relationship between the viewer and the object. At over 90 cm in length, this cross may have been primarily intended for display on a cell wall and not as a cult object to be handled as were many of the smaller crosses.

This work appears to be a more ambitious painting than the smaller crosses by María Josefa and Clemente Sánchez, most of which shared a common cartoon, and depicted elements (for example the loincloth) with identical strokes of a paintbrush. The structure, design, and details in this larger work are very similar but because of the size, it is unique, at least until another cross of this type and size becomes known. With only two signed works by Clemente, a persuasive comparison of the two artists is impossible. Based on current understanding and an assessment of quality the present work is more likely painted by María Josefa Sánchez.

Many modest cell crosses remain on convent walls as echoes of another time. The recent, gradual increase in interest in these objects and the discovery of María Josefa’s signature on some, may lead to more research and discoveries about the identity and the working context of this painter, adding to the steadily growing list of women artists who lived and worked in early modern Spain.

Catherine Hall-Van den Elsen

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