Edited by Jennifer A. Thompson and Laurel Garber. 304 pp. incl. 240 col. ills. (Philadelphia Museum of Art, 2024), £45. ISBN 978–0–87633–304–4.

For art historians interested in understanding the contributions of women artists to twentieth-century art, this is a most welcome publication. It accompanies a travelling exhibition dedicated to the work of the Spanish artist Rosario de Velasco (1904–91), which opened at the Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza, Madrid.[1] Curated by Toya Viudes de Velasco, the artist’s great-niece, and Miguel Lusarreta, it follows the museum’s retrospective of the realist painter Isabel Quintanilla (1938–2017) and is part of wider efforts in museology to recover forgotten women artists.[2] Sometimes such ‘rescue’ missions tend towards overblown and superficial narratives of female artistheroes. Fortunately this is not the case with Rosario de Velasco. 

Born into a conservative, affluent family in Madrid, De Velasco emerged as a gifted student between 1919 and 1925 at the private art school run by Fernando Álvarez de Sotomayor, who was appointed Director of the Museo Nacional del Prado, Madrid, in 1922. Her classical training sparked a lifelong interest in the old masters, particularly in Italian quattrocento painting, which shines through in her work. Aged twenty, Velasco began to show her work at state-funded exhibitions, but her breakthrough came in 1932, when her modern interpretation of Adán y Eva (Adam and Eve; cat. no.8; Fig.25) won a second-class medal at the Exposición Nacional de Bellas Artes in Madrid. This accolade was bittersweet, however, as critics at the time stated that the sole reason De Velasco was denied first prize was that there was no precedent for a female winner. De Velasco was honoured with other prizes at national exhibitions and participated in the Venice Biennale five times, as well as several official exhibitions abroad in Berlin, Copenhagen, Pittsburgh and Buenos Aires. However, it is only now that a major institution has devoted an entire exhibition to her work, bringing together fifty paintings and drawings. It focuses on work from the artist’s most successful phase, between the 1920s and 1940s, which has connections with New Spanish Figuration, New Objectivity in Germany and the Italian Novecento movement. 

Alongside three scholarly essays, the catalogue also includes forewords from the directors of the supporting institutions, a timeline of De Velasco’s life and a bibliography. The first essay, written by the curators, addresses the practical challenges of bringing together the artist’s works for exhibition. Only fifteen paintings are in public collections, among them the grotesque Carnaval (after 1936; Centre Pompidou, Paris; no.37) and the disturbing La matanza de los inocentes (The massacre of the innocents; 1936; Museo de Bellas Artes de Valencia; no.3), which was painted just before the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War (1936–39). Tracing her works held in private collections required collaboration with the artist’s descendants, auction houses and media outlets. Viudes de Velasco launched a media campaign, asking newspapers, radio stations and television channels to share photographs of untraced paintings and the artist’s signature monogram ‘RdV’ with their audiences. Through this process a number of De Velasco’s works were rediscovered, including her oneiric illustrations for such children’s books as the Cuentos para soñar (1928) by her friend, the writer María Teresa León (private collection; nos.16–22). Important large-scale paintings were also unearthed, including Gitanos (Gypsies; 1934; private collection; no.28), Maternidad (Maternity; 1933; private collection; no.41), which was exhibited at the 20th Venice Biennale in 1936, and the Botticelli-esque Lavanderas (Washerwomen; no.27; Fig.26), shown in Madrid in 1934. 

In her contribution to the catalogue, Estrella de Diego analyses De Velasco’s ascent in the 1920s and 1930s and grapples with the reasons for the decline in the visibility of De Velasco’s work after the Civil War. She begins with the 1935 International Exhibition of Paintings at the Carnegie Institute, Pittsburgh, positioning it as a highpoint in De Velasco’s career. Gitanos was shown in the company of works by such notable artists as Salvador Dalí, Otto Dix, Edward Hopper, Vanessa Bell, Georgia O’Keefe and Spanish realists, including Daniel Vázquez Díaz and Hipólito Hidalgo de Caviedes. The exhibition only included one other Spanish woman artist, Margarita de Frau, a decision that was driven by her relationship with José Frau, her teacher and husband, who also participated. It is worth noting that, unlike De Frau, De Velasco had already gained recognition in official Spanish exhibitions, including at the Venice Biennale in 1934 and the National Exhibitions of Fine Art in Madrid in 1932 and 1934. After the exhibition opened, Gitanos was well received by the American press: its theme played into foreign stereotypes of an exotic ‘Spanishness’ and her style, characterised by rigorous drawing, produced an ‘elegant and measured figuration’ (p.39), which resonated with contemporary aesthetic trends.[3] 

De Velasco’s paintings of Spanish folkloric traditions reflect broader interests in ethnographic representations at the time, which were supported by the Republican government. Maragatos (1934; Museo del Traje, Madrid; no.7), which depicts a Leonese couple with their child in traditional dress, won second prize in a state-funded competition aimed at recording Spanish popular dress in 1934. However, as De Diego outlines, the artist’s breakthrough work Adán y Eva, which was shown at several exhibitions in subsequent years, was often cited by the press, overshadowing her other works. De Diego describes the critics’ focus on this painting as the ‘syndrome of women-artists of one work only’ (p.39), which also applied to De Velasco’s peer Ángeles Santos Torroella (1911–2013). Writers often enthused about De Velasco’s realist paintings of the 1930s, detecting Renaissance, Expressionist and Cubist influences. Her work, which oscillated between tradition and modernity, is difficult to categorise, and her book illustrations also showcase an ability to enter the realms of fantasy. 

Given that De Velasco achieved renown and respect in the 1930s, one must ask why she faded from view after the Civil War. Although upperclass women did not always conform to the asphyxiating ideal of women as ‘domestic angels’, misogynistic attitudes under Francisco Franco nonetheless contributed to the marginalisation of women artists and writers. Additionally, the regime’s promotion of abstract art rendered De Velasco’s work less likely to be selected for official, state-sponsored exhibitions. De Diego also points out that she has been sidelined by recent scholarship on historical women artists, which is possibly due to her early Falangist associations. These are outlined in a biographical essay by the art historian Víctor Ugarte Farrerons, who is also the artist’s grandson. Partially derived from archival material and personal memory, it traces the genesis of individual works while also addressing issues of class and ideology during the turbulent years of the Civil War. Deeply committed to Catholicism, De Velasco joined the Sección Femenina of the Falangist party in 1936, taking a different path from her friend León, who supported the Republican government. Denounced by the janitor of her apartment block, De Velasco left Madrid for Barcelona, where she was imprisoned and faced execution. She was saved thanks to the manoeuvres of Javier Farrerons (1906–2000), a physician, whom she later married. The couple moved to Las Machorras, a town in the rebel-controlled province of Burgos, where she gave birth to their daughter in 1938. After Franco’s victory, the family returned to Barcelona, and De Velasco exhibited again at several state-funded exhibitions. However, following her participation in the 1955 Hispano-American Biennale in Barcelona, she primarily showed her work in notable commercial galleries in Madrid, Barcelona and Sitges. 

As an artist in an economically comfortable situation, De Velasco had a relaxed attitude towards selling her work. In the 1960s her style changed, becoming less crisp, and her approach more intuitive. Although she showed her work in different galleries until the end of her life, she also dedicated time to travel with her husband and to looking after her daughter and five grandchildren. Ugarte Farrerons paints a sympathetic picture of De Velasco, who was anything but a traditional ‘granny’: she refused to be called ‘grandmother’, never disclosed her age and had a passion for appearing in disguise. Athletic, confident and outspoken, she had a sense of fun and a taste for modern fashion and cinema, while also being a devout Catholic. She admired both the old masters and modern artists, such as Giorgio de Chirico and Georges Braque, as evidenced by her portrait of doctor Luis de Velasco (c.1933; private collection; no.44) and Sin título (el cuarto de los niños) (Untitled; the children’s room; no.9; Fig.27). She appreciated the work of Pablo Picasso, Antoni Tàpies and, later in life, showed interest in the contemporary Mallorcan painter Miquel Barceló (b.1957). 

The final contribution to the catalogue is a timeline put together by Elena Rodríguez Carballo, the conservator at the Thyssen-Bornemisza Museum, which provides a helpful overview of key events in De Velasco’s career and complements the three essays. Considering the publication marks a significant milestone in scholarship on the artist, it is a shame that it is only available in Spanish. Nonetheless, one hopes that it will generate further research into the career of this neglected and fascinating figure in twentieth-century Spanish art.

[1] The exhibition will travel to the Museo de Bellas Artes de Valencia (7th November 2024–16th February 2025). 

[2] L. de Cos Martín: exh. cat. Isabel Quintanilla, Madrid (Museo Nacional Thyssen-Bornemisza) 2024. 

[3] Translations of the catalogue are provided by the present reviewer.