Questioning a Ghost
Questioning a Ghost

Questioning a Ghost
An attractive Spanish woman stares at me, her eyes never moving. The pose is frozen endlessly in time. She’s wearing a flowing silk gown and an expensive looking shall which one could imagine is made from gold flake. The bed she lies on has oversized pillows with frilly trim. Her shoes are gold and she appears to have some make-up on. The woman’s hair is dark as night, her eyebrows are long and pronounced and she has rosy cheeks. There seems to be an essence of wealth or, at the very least, the artist was trying to portray her as sophisticated and high class. Around her waist I see a red sash presumably also made of silk. One can imagine it is a ribbon around the gift that is the woman. Maja has a very seductive figure. The hourglass contours of her body, slender waist, and ample breasts rising as if she was inhaling deeply at the moment Goya started the outline. You can see there is strength in her legs and I would describe her as having “child-bearing hips”.
Maja surely is a beautiful woman. But, is she a real woman? Was Francisco Goya painting the love of his life? The detail in the face suggests to me that Goya knew Maja well. Maja may be the mother of his children, yet she is still looks youthful and beautiful. If she isn’t his significant other than who is she? Perhaps she is just another paying customer. Francisco, the starving artist, could have been painting her at the commission of her wealthy family. The artist has done a great job of capturing her expression and beauty. How much must it have cost? Of course, if she was Goya’s wife it would cost nothing.
The lighting in the picture is captured by the artist’s brush wonderfully. The stark contrast of the shadow on the pillows leads me to believe it must be a sunny day with the sun’s rays shining in through a window. The window must be small though for the rays of light are concentrated on the bed while the rest of the room is dark. This may have been an illusion created purposefully by Goya to make Maja the complete focus of the viewer. The light hits off her silk garments making her glow almost celestially. This illusion creates a mystification in the mind of the viewer’s. Through the shimmery glow off the silk I can see her skin showing through. Was the outfit see-through? Perhaps Goya could see through to her naked form and added the light to reflect off the gown just to intrigue the viewer’s more. For me the present is always more exciting before it is unwrapped. Perhaps this was Goya’s way of presenting her as a sex symbol, but without being raunchy. Maja stares through me and I find myself asking, “What is running through your mind?” Perhaps she is tired of holding the pose for the artist. I can see a hint of distraction in her eyes and fatigue in her face. While, she stares straight ahead the smile seems forced. Despite her lips curving upward, the cheeks are not fully raised. Although, when one continues to examine the work of art, the expression can change many times over. The fatigue I saw initially may in fact be longing desire, similar expressions, yet completely different states of mind. What is it that you desire? Maybe you desire to be finished being painted. Or, more likely, you desire to get started. It is not a stretch of the imagination to assume that this woman could be awaiting a romantic rendezvous with the artist. With the painting of her some form of foreplay akin to the scene in the movie “Titanic”. The title of the picture, “Clothed Maja”, leads me naturally to wonder if there is (or was) a second portrait, “Unclothed Maja”. Unfortunately, I am only able to see this reproduction on a computer screen. Would the picture come to life more if I was able to see the texture of the painting? If I were able to see the original it would be a wholly different experience? Of this I am not sure. For as Berger explains in the essay Ways of Seeing, “it is not a question of reproduction failing to reproduce certain aspects of an image faithfully; it is a question of reproduction making it possible, even inevitable, that an image will be used for many different purposes and that the reproduced image, unlike an original work, can lend itself to all.” Berger believes in this age of pictorial reproduction the meaning of paintings is no longer attached to them. I can only partially agree with Berger’s statement. Fortunately, thanks to reproduction, I can look at this painting and draw my own conclusions. If it weren’t for the reproduction I would have to go to Tokyo to see the original. Concurrently, it wouldn’t be the original I would set my eyes upon in Tokyo because the true original was that woman in that room nearly 200 years ago. Am I mystified by this woman that was painted more than 200 years before me? I must say that I am. The image captured in oil paint by Francisco Goya is vibrant and lively. I find myself with many questions for Maja, but unfortunately I will never receive an answer that isn’t really my own rationalization. John Berger wrote, “It is precisely this which gives the paintings their psychological and social urgency. It is this – not the painter’s skill as a “seducer” – which convinces us that we can know the people portrayed.” Alas, there is not the option of interrogating Goya, nor am I able to accurately depict what Goya may have been trying to show in this picture. The mystification comes from the not knowing. It is the not knowing that draws us the viewer’s to look. Or perhaps it is just beautiful art with no significant meaning. I will leave you with this which shows further proof that art is truly in the eye of the beholder.