スペイン黄金時代は16世紀から１７世紀に相当します。絵画はベラスケスをはじめムリーリョ、スルバランなど日本でもとても有名ですが、なぜか当時の彫刻については、日本でほぼ語られません。宗教とは別に、美の世界へのアプローチとして絶対に欠かせないジャンルだと思います。
最大の問題は移動させる事の困難さ。２０年以上夏を過ごすバイリャドリッドValladolidは、黄金時代スペインの首都、有名な国王フェリペ２世生誕地。アンダルシアのセビリヤ同級の国宝彫刻が残るスペインの古都。イスターの豪華なパレードを見物しながら、これらの彫刻の素晴らしさは少しづつ日本人の私の魂に浸透してきたのだと思いますが、後になってそれがイエズス会の意図する精神世界への導きだったと知り驚きました。
先日Valladolid大聖堂にふと訪れた時の事をお伝えします。
こちらはJuan de Juniフアン・デ・フニという天才彫刻家のこの祭壇。このような大規模な美術品群がスペインには溢れていますが、ここはカスティーリャ・イ・レオン地方、スペイントップクオリティの作品密集地帯です。
なぜこのように大きな美術品がつくられるようになったのかというと、16世紀以降プロテスタント勢力をおさえるための『対抗宗教改革 Contra reforma』という運動を、スペインはカトリック圏の中心となって実施していました。『見る信仰』とも言われますが、特に人々の教育に携わっていたイエズス会の教育法は、教会建築にもその考えが表れています。教会建築は『精神の劇場Teatro del alma』という考え方に基づき、見る人を信仰に導く舞台装置でした。プロテスタントはこれを偶像信仰のように貶す傾向がありますが、それは大きな間違いだと思います。
イエズス会の教えは、読んで頭脳で理解する教育よりも感じる事の大切さを優先していたのです。
特に彫刻は重大な役割を果たし、聖人像と見る人が目と目を合わせるような演出もされており『演劇性のある説教』手段だったのです。聖母マリアやキリストの痛みや悲しみが、ドラマチックに見る人の心の奥深くまで入り込んでくるようです。仏教のような静かな精神探求ではなく、『感情の爆発』がこの黄金時代スペインのアプローチなのです。日本人にはインパクトがありすぎますが、この血と肉体の表現法は、私の中では日本武士道の悲壮感と重なり合い、独特のスペインと日本の共通点として心に落ちてきます。
これらの彫刻は木製彫刻で、別名『ポリクロミー彫刻』とも呼ばれていますが、彫刻家が彫り彩色は同レベルの天才画家が実施します。これも見どころで、優れた画家が彩色を施した作品で、修復されずにオリジナルな状態が残っているものはすごい迫力があります。（残念ながら修復で破壊されてしまう作品も少なくありません）
Valladolid大聖堂の傑作のひとつグレゴリオ・フェルナンデスによる”Ecce Homo”。この作品はスペインバロック彫刻の最高峰と言われており、絵画であればベラスケスの『ラス・メ二ーナス』に相当するという説もあります。
Gregorio・Fernandez 1620ー1621年ごろの作品 マホガニー H.168cm
この写真は下のリンク先からお借りしました。
DOMVS PVCELAE: Theatrum: ECCE HOMO, la plenitud de la escultura barroca española
今、大聖堂美術館は改修工事中、美術館ではなく大聖堂内のチャペルで作品が保管されています。管理をしていた神父さんに色々質問したのが良かったのか、普通であれば鉄格子沿いに垣間見る作品を、チャペルに入れて見せてもらいました。こんな間近で見るチャンスは2度とないかもしれません。触りたい衝動はなんとか抑えました。因みの腰に巻かれた布の部分は、カートン紙を使って作られています。下にはしっかりと裸体が隠れています。
360度鑑賞できる珍しい作品で、元々どんな風に展示されていたのか思い悩みますが、特に写真のように彫刻の背中はオリジナルのまま。前面は修復されており彩色に差があります。天才芸術家の世界は繊細で細部に違いがあるので、修復するとなぜかニュアンスが変わってしまう時があります。この作品はギリシャ彫刻に共通するレベルの美が達成されていると、今回ショーケースなしの状態で触れる距離から見て強く感じました。
日本で紹介されることがほとんどないスペイン彫刻ですが、世界的再評価も進んでおり、美術愛好家にとっては途轍もない価値のある作品ばかりです。忘れられがちな「痛み」「信仰」「人間の感情の深さ」は、スペインが誇るべきこれらの彫刻が教えてくれると思います。
少しづつ今後も素晴らしい作品については、お伝えしていきたいと思います。
【English version】
The Spanish Golden Age spanned the 16th and 17th centuries.
While paintings from this era—by artists such as Velázquez, Murillo, and Zurbarán—are well known even in Japan, for some reason, the sculpture of the same period is almost never mentioned. Yet to me, sculpture is an essential genre—not only from a religious perspective but also as a profound approach to the world of beauty.
The greatest obstacle lies in the difficulty of moving these works.
For over twenty summers, I have spent time in Valladolid, once the capital of Golden Age Spain and the birthplace of the famed King Philip II. This ancient city, comparable to Seville in Andalusia, is home to many national treasures of Spanish sculpture.
As I watched the grand processions of Easter Week, the magnificence of these sculptures slowly seeped into my Japanese soul. It was only later that I realized—astonished—that what I had been experiencing was in fact a guided journey into the spiritual world, as intended by the Jesuits.
Let me share a moment from a recent, spontaneous visit to the Cathedral of Valladolid.
This is the altarpiece by the genius sculptor Juan de Juni.
Spain is filled with monumental artworks like this, especially here in Castilla y León, a region dense with some of the highest-quality masterpieces in the country.
Why were such grand works of religious art created in the first place?
Beginning in the 16th century, Spain became the leading force of the Counter-Reformation (Contra Reforma)—a movement to counter the growing influence of Protestantism. Often called a “faith through vision,” the Catholic Church, particularly the Jesuits, emphasized the importance of visual education to reach the hearts of the people. This philosophy became deeply embedded in the design of churches.
Church architecture itself came to be conceived as a “Theatre of the Soul” (Teatro del alma)—a stage set designed to guide the viewer into faith. While Protestants often criticized this approach as mere idolatry, I believe that interpretation misses the point entirely.
The Jesuit method prioritized emotional experience over intellectual comprehension. Feeling was valued above reading. In this context, sculpture played a crucial role—so much so that statues were deliberately positioned to meet the gaze of the faithful, creating a kind of “theatrical sermon.”
The pain and sorrow of the Virgin Mary and Christ are expressed with such raw emotion that they pierce directly into the heart.
Unlike the quiet, inward spiritual path of Buddhism, Spanish art of the Golden Age takes the form of emotional explosion—unapologetically intense and deeply human.
For us Japanese, the impact can be overwhelming.
And yet, within these depictions of blood, flesh, and suffering, I personally find a resonance with the aesthetic of tragic heroism found in Japanese Bushidō. In this unexpected connection, I sense a subtle common ground between Spain and Japan—one that speaks to the soul.
Juan de Juni’s “Ecce Homo”
“Ecce Homo” means “Behold the man”—a profoundly significant scene in Christian iconography depicting Christ presented to the crowd before his crucifixion. Countless great artists have portrayed this moment, and each version reveals something deeply personal: a reflection of the artist’s own spirituality. That is what makes this theme so captivating.
Juan de Juni’s interpretation, sculpted with flawless technique, possesses an almost hypnotic sensuality that makes it impossible to look away.
These works are wooden sculptures, a form known as polychrome sculpture (escultura policromada). The sculptor carves the piece, but the coloring is done by a master painter—often a genius in their own right. This collaboration is a key part of the artistry. When the original polychromy has been preserved without later restoration, the result is breathtaking in its power.
(Unfortunately, some pieces have been damaged in poorly executed restorations.)
One of the greatest treasures of the Valladolid Cathedral is the “Ecce Homo” by Gregorio Fernández. This sculpture is widely considered a masterpiece of Spanish Baroque sculpture, and some even say that—if it were a painting—it would stand alongside Velázquez’s “Las Meninas” as a pinnacle of Spanish art.
The cathedral museum is currently undergoing renovation, so instead of being displayed in the museum, the artwork is being stored inside one of the chapels within the cathedral itself.
Perhaps because I asked the priest in charge many questions, I was graciously allowed to step inside the chapel and view the piece up close—something that would normally only be possible from behind an iron gate, glimpsed through bars.
It may have been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see the sculpture from such proximity. I had to fight the urge to reach out and touch it.
Incidentally, the cloth wrapped around the figure’s waist is made from cardboard (cartón). Beneath it, the body is fully sculpted in the nude, hidden from view.
This is a rare work that can be appreciated in 360 degrees, and it made me wonder how it might originally have been displayed.
What’s particularly striking is that, as seen in the photo, the back of the sculpture remains untouched in its original state, while the front has been restored—resulting in a noticeable difference in coloration.
When it comes to the world of genius artists, the subtlety lies in the details, and even a small restoration can sometimes unintentionally alter the work’s nuance.
Seeing this sculpture without a display case, from such an intimate distance, I truly felt that it achieves a level of beauty on par with classical Greek sculpture.
Spanish sculpture is rarely introduced in Japan, but it is now undergoing a global reappraisal, and for art lovers, these works possess extraordinary value.
They remind us of things we often forget—pain, faith, and the profound depths of human emotion. These are the very qualities embodied in the sculptures Spain should be proud of.
Little by little, I hope to continue sharing more of these remarkable works with you.
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