Although the image of Juan de Pareja is famous for the portrait that Diego Velázquez made of him in 1650, few know the incredible story of this Moorish slave who became, secretly from the Sevillian painter, a genius of painting. He could not … be otherwise, if he wanted to avoid the reprisals of that Spanish society that vetoed any role in the arts for those of his class, to the point that blacks, mulattoes, ladinos or morenos became an anecdotal detail on the corner of the canvases, if they were lucky enough to be represented in any.
They were an exotic point within art, a synonym for ugliness or a grotesque element for mockery. Something like a vague brushstroke that appeared, very occasionally, in the paintings. That fact perfectly reflected what Velázquez’s Seville was like in the 17th century, with thousands of slaves marginalized, mistreated and despised. Cervantes himself defined his population as “a chessboard”, in reference to the enormous racial contrast that existed. In this sense, researcher Luis Méndez Rodríguez analyzed thousands of paintings for his book ‘Slaves in Sevillian painting of the Golden Age’ (University of Seville, 2011) and discovered that only in very few exceptions do they emerge as the main subject of the scene.
See ‘The Three Children’ by Murillo and three other Velázquez paintings: the aforementioned portrait of Juan de Pareja, ‘The Mulata’ (1620-1622) and ‘The Supper at Emmaus’ (1623). Few more. Something strange if we take into account that the capital of Seville was, at that time, one of the most active and important slave markets in Spain. The top of the pyramid of a practice that dates back to Carthaginian and Roman times and that underwent a great boost after the discovery of America, and then multiplied with the annexation of the Portuguese crown between 1580 and 1640.
Although the black population was, therefore, very numerous in Seville, its representation in art was very anecdotal and, practically a miracle, that an artist could be found among it. His life was spent between public auctions that were held on the steps of the Cathedral and in the Plaza de San Francisco and, after being bought, being responsible for the most unpleasant and hardest jobs one could imagine. And so that there was no confusion, they had a series of slave symbols tattooed on their cheeks and even the name of their master.
First brush strokes
It was in that city where Velázquez was born in 1599 and where he made his first brush strokes. The portrait of Juan Pareja, however, was painted in Rome, when he had already become a prominent figure, during his second trip to Italy in 1650. The work is preserved in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York, where it arrived in 1971, but it was only until very recent times that experts became concerned about the life of the sitter, who is now recognized as a ‘baroque painter’ and to whom Fernando Villaverde dedicated a novel in 2014: ‘The Slave of Velázquez’ (Suma).
What we do not know exactly is whether he was born in Antequera (Málaga) like his father, who had the same name as him, or in Seville, where he was acquired by Velázquez to join his team of assistants. He was of Moorish origins and “of a mixed race and a strange color,” as the Córdoba painter Antonio Palomino described him in the second half of the 17th century. It is unknown when he entered the service of the author of ‘Las Meninas’, although in 1642 he already appears as a witness in one of the lawsuits that the painter had throughout his life. Also, in the powers to manage his property in Seville, signed in 1647, and in those of his daughter, Francisca Velázquez, in 1653.
What is perfectly documented is that he was Velázquez’s slave for many years. A time in which he helped him grind the colors and prepare the canvases, without the teacher, due to the dignity of art, ever allowing him to deal with issues that related to painting or drawing. That led him to learn to paint secretly from his owner, according to some chroniclers of his time, until one day he made the mistake of forgetting one of his works along with those of the great Velázquez, leaning on the wall as one more.
Philip IV
Shortly after, King Philip IV went to visit the master in his workshop, as he usually did, and asked to be shown the canvases on which the Sevillian had been working lately. When the Monarch pointed to Couple’s, the Moorish man realized his carelessness and threw himself at his feet crying. “The slave earnestly begged for protection from his master, since he had learned the art and made that painting without his consent,” Palomino said. When he removed the cloth and saw the painting, however, he was so impressed that he not only granted him what he asked, but he ordered that he be granted his freedom. “Whoever has this ability, he cannot be a slave,” he said.
Shortly after, Velázquez and Pareja left for Rome, where he decided to paint him and exhibit the portrait in the portico of the Pantheon of that city, on March 19, 1650, on the occasion of the festival in honor of the patron of the Congregation of the Virtuosi of the Pantheon. , to which he had signed up a month before. There they remained master and slave for several more months, until, on November 23, he finally received the letter of freedom. This, however, was not granted immediately to our protagonist, it became effective after four years, as long as he did not flee or commit a crime.
From that moment until his death in 1670, the Moorish man dedicated his life, professionally and independently, to painting. According to René Jesús Payo Hernanz in ‘Una immaculada de Juan Pareja’ (University of Burgos, 2013), “his oldest biographers assure that, even so, he continued to serve Velázquez until his death and even beyond this, working in the house of the daughter of his former master and his son-in-law Juan Bautista del Mazo.
Be that as it may, the first painting after the discovery of Philip IV and Velázquez is dated 1658, which was followed by a not very extensive catalog of works, but which gave him great prestige in his time, if we pay attention to the praise that he received. Antonio Palomino dedicated it in his chronicles. In these, Pareja appeared as a more important artist than the other masters in the circle of the author of ‘Las meninas’.
