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.

The existence of holes in the top and bottom of this cross indicate that at some point it was attached to a wall. Catherine Hall believes that most of these crosses were probably sold to pilgrims on their way to northern Spain. They would have originally been held by the owner as an aid to prayer.

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 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, as here, 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. This example was clearly intended for a patron with Fransciscan affiliations as both the figure of St. Francis and the sun and moon at the end of the horizontal member illustrate. The painted sun and moon are especially beautiful and unexpected elements of the composition.

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 saint, the sun and moon and the presence of a skull at the foot of the cross beneath Christ’s feet.

The work under review measures 59 cm x 37.5 cm, similar in scale to most of 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.

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 the realism of Zurbarán, a slightly earlier artist than Sánchez.

With its Franciscan imagery this work is a more ambitious painting than some of the other crosses by María Josefa and Clemente Sánchez, most of which shared a common cartoon, and depicted elements with identical strokes of a paintbrush.

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.

We are grateful to Catherine Hall van den Elsen for her assistance with this catalogue entry. Based on detailed photographs, she confirmed the attribution of this work to María Josefa Sánchez in September 2025, and reads the date as 1640. Catherine noted the physiognomic singularity of the skull which, in addition to the signature, is the hallmark of Sánchez’s work.

Notes