As we know from much recent scholarship, artistic exchanges between the Northern and Southern Netherlands continued apace throughout the Eighty Years’ War (1568–1648), a period in which they were long thought to have greatly diminished in frequency.2 These include the physical movements of artists, dealers, collectors, and other travelers or immigrants as well the movement of such objects as paintings, prints, and various kinds of texts discussing them. The specifics of such cases of exchange between the Northern and Southern Netherlands are often revelatory not only of artistic processes but also of the evolving cultural identities, both personal and professional, of the inhabitants of the Low Countries during a period of intense political change.
This article asks how cultural identities formed and were maintained in this period by immigrant artists outside the geographical boundaries of the Northern and Southern Netherlands and how the perception of these identities – by the artists themselves and by their foreign audiences – affected the making and selling of their work. The case of immigrant artists from the Low Countries active in Madrid offers a particularly rich and distinctive context for exploring these intertwined questions.
The Madrid case differs from others because of the existence of a culturally-based royal organization, the Noble Guardia de Arqueros de Corps, which was the Spanish king’s Burgundian bodyguard.3 It served as a critical network, bringing into contact those from both the Northern and Southern Netherlands – not only guard members but also others closely associated with them – and undergirding their cultivation of a shared Netherlandish identity. The situation of the Noble Guardia at the Madrid court offers a quite different set of circumstances from those in other locales, such as Naples or Rome. No formal institution, not even a designated church, served as a single unifying locus for the Netherlandish immigrant painters in late sixteenth-century Naples.4 Whereas the Schildersbent in Rome was an informal organization, formed in the first quarter of the seventeenth century, which united Netherlandish painters in their struggles against the city’s official painters’ guild, the Accademia di San Luca, and provided these immigrants with social support and concomitant festivities, it lacked official status and was not formally affiliated with any governing apparatus.5 By contrast, the Noble Guardia was an entrenched element of the Spanish court, offering – at least in theory – a means for ascent within the court hierarchy, the connections to potential noble patrons, and most relevantly here, a title that conferred honor while at once recalling an individual’s geographical origins. Though not always strictly enforced, the cultural qualifications for entrance stipulated origins in the Low Countries or Burgundy, and thus the guard remained an official means of uniting those of Northern and Southern Netherlandish origins in Madrid throughout this period. Moreover, the broadcasting of geographical origins that guard membership engendered encouraged many painters to capitalize on their shared Netherlandish heritage, or ‘Flemishness’. The status of these painters as archers was not lost on observers of their time. The opportunity to seek membership in the guard – and with that an entrée into court circles – must have been a powerful incentive for many painters to emigrate to Madrid rather than other locales.6
Spaniards had a variety of entrenched associations with the visual qualities of ‘Flemishness’, resulting from the centuries-long presence of Netherlandish painters and paintings in Spain. As in Italy, Spaniards noted the ‘Flemish’ talent for landscape painting, and Spanish collection inventories at all social levels manifest a hearty taste for such works.7 Another genre of painting that Spaniards perceived as distinctly Netherlandish seems to have been still lifes and particularly those depicting flowers.8 This article argues not only for the strength of these associations, but for the self-conscious decision by certain Northern and Southern Netherlandish painters associated with the Noble Guardia to capitalize on these associations by marketing their still lifes and flower paintings as ‘Flemish’, even those works that may look more ‘Spanish’ than ‘Flemish’ to modern eyes. This case study reveals that three traditions often considered separately – Spanish, Dutch, and Flemish still life and flower painting – were indeed professionally and visually interwoven in the Madrid artistic circles centred on the Noble Guardia.
Flamenco in Madrid
Before assessing the cultural identity – felt or perceived – of Low Countries immigrant artists in Madrid, a word might first be said about this question within the loose and dynamic boundaries of the Low Countries themselves. In an article as thorough and incisive as it is entertaining, Alistair Duke mapped not only the nominal ambiguities faced when describing the Low Countries and its inhabitants but also the linguistic and political circumstances that reinforced such imprecise and often malleable terminology.9 The coexistence not only of French and Dutch but also of dialects thereof hindered the sort of linguistic unity that contributed, for example, to the growth of a shared identity among speakers of German.10 Duke argues compellingly that the superfluity of names for the Low Countries and its denizens, far from simply a semantic issue, points to the comparatively ‘weak sense of identity’ among inhabitants of these parts in the sixteenth century.11
Although a variety of names were indeed used to describe the Low Countries and its inhabitants not only within but outside the region, various circumstances in Spain may have contributed to creating a shared ‘Netherlandish’ identity among immigrants to a greater extent than existed at home. The terminology used in Spain to describe Netherlandish origins, as has often been remarked of such descriptions in Italy, frequently elided precise distinctions in geographical origin. Flamenco, like fiammingho in Italy (both the Spanish and the Italian translate to Flemish or Fleming), served as a synecdoche and was used to describe those from any of the Netherlandish provinces and sometimes farther afield throughout the seventeenth century, even as boundaries shifted.12 Used as both adjectives and nouns to describe individuals, these words had the benefit of a direct linguistic link to the name of the region (Flandes, Fiandre).13
Immigrants themselves embraced these terms. The Utrecht-born painter and engraver Cornelis de Beer living in Madrid described himself as flamenco on various occasions.14 Yet conversely, the painter Rodrigo Diriksen, who hailed from Oudenberg, near Geraardsbergen, appears as Rodrigo de Holanda in many documents.15 However baseless the trace of a Northern Netherlandish association, it nonetheless persisted in the next two generations of Spanish-born painters in his family; Olanda appeared next to Rodrigo’s son Felipe’s name in an undated list enumerating family background,16 and likewise beside his grandson’s name in a 1662 list.17 Yet in a similar list from 1635, although the grandson Gabriel was correctly listed as a native of Madrid, the family’s origin was listed first as Utrecht, which was crossed out and replaced with Antwerp, which was indeed the origin of his maternal great-grandfather, Anton van den Wyngaerde.18 These examples help underscore not only the versatile uses of such terms as flamenco and holandés [Dutch, Dutchman], but also the extent to which they were both imposed on and also fully deployed by immigrants themselves.
Although holandés was used sporadically, as just noted, the Spanish preference for the term flamenco seems to have helped provide a sort of umbrella category within which to group immigrants from the Low Countries. It seems likely that these nominal elisions and at times misidentifications helped minimise the import of geographical distinctions – or simply reflected current perceptions – as immigrants from the northern and southern provinces united in and around the Noble Guardia at the Madrid court. Within the community surrounding the guard, these immigrants’ shared background superseded the political boundaries that were solidifying over the course of the century, and guard membership would importantly enable them to professionally emphasize their Netherlandish origins.19
The Noble Guardia de Arqueros de Corps
While cultural descriptors arguably helped shape the development of a Netherlandish identity in Spain, so too did structural factors. Perhaps the most important institution involved in cultivating the perception of a shared Netherlandish identity in Madrid was the king’s Burgundian Noble Guardia, with its members referred to as archers.20 During the seventeenth century, there were at least 40 painters in Madrid who were either immigrants from the Low Countries or their children; approximately half of this group either joined or sought to join the guard.21 Many Netherlandish painters arriving in Madrid throughout the century evidently viewed membership in the guard as the most promising route to success. The guard offered various professional and personal benefits for immigrants, including a salary, medical care, and housing.22 Further less concrete though equally significant advantages included the communal benefits of working with one’s countrymen in a foreign city and the potential access to patrons at court or, indeed, patronage by the crown.
Guard membership was officially open only to nobles or those from honourable families who, as noted above, had been born in the Low Countries or Burgundy, as well as their descendants.23 Those from the northern provinces were never barred from membership.24 However, it was stipulated that neither the archer applicant nor his family should ever have taken up arms against the Spanish king, and archers were, of course, required to be Catholic.25 Various guard lists provide snapshots of members’ origins at different moments throughout the seventeenth century. Unsurprisingly, archers hailed predominantly from the Southern Netherlands, but it is noteworthy that immigrants from the Northern Netherlands joined the guard both before and after Spain’s recognition of the Dutch Republic in 1648.26 A list compiled in 1645 of 45 archers who had joined the guard in the previous decade includes just one member from the north.27 A 1662 roster of the full 115-member guard included seven archers who either came from the Northern Netherlands or cited it as the origin of their families.28 And a 1695 roster of 104 archers listed four with Northern Netherlandish origins.29
Perhaps the most professionally successful and socially-engaged Northern Netherlandish immigrant artist in Madrid was Cornelis de Beer, who had close connections to a number of archers.30 A great deal of information about De Beer has come to light, due principally to the work of Peter Cherry and Marián Kruijer Fernández. The son of the Utrecht-born painter Joost de Beer – who had studied in Antwerp with Frans Floris before returning to Utrecht, where he trained Joachim Wtewael and Abraham Bloemaert, among others – Cornelis was born around 1585, trained in Utrecht, likely after his father’s death,31 and had arrived in Madrid by about 1608.32 Although the family seems to have been Catholic,33 Utrecht’s comparative tolerance of Catholicism in the first decades of the century – provided it was not practiced publicly – argues against supposing that religious motives prompted De Beer’s move to Madrid.34 It is not known what precisely motivated him to emigrate, and it has not yet proved possible to trace any connections he may have had with Low Countries immigrants who had settled in Madrid prior to his arrival and who might have encouraged him to come.35 In any event, once in Madrid, De Beer developed relationships with a number of Flemish immigrant families.
He would serve as teacher or mentor to at least four painters of Flemish background, two of whom were from archer families. From his earliest days in Madrid, he seems to have developed a close relationship with the Perret family. Pieter Perret of Antwerp had been summoned from Rome to Spain in 1583 to engrave images of Philip II’s new monastery and palace, El Escorial, and Perret was subsequently appointed royal engraver.36 When Perret’s son applied to join the guard in 1632, he received a testimonial from De Beer noting that De Beer had known Perret the elder for 24 years and that Perret the younger – who used a hispanised form of his name, Pedro Perete – had lived for five years in De Beer’s home, presumably as part of his artistic training, since he too became a painter and engraver.37 During this period, Perete and De Beer collaborated on several prints, with De Beer publishing a print seemingly designed by his protégé, and the pupil also engraved a design after his teacher (fig. 1).38
Pedro Perete after Cornelis de Beer, Portraits of Phillip I, Charles V, and Phillip II, 1628, engraving, 26.8 × 18.8 cm, Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, no. IH-2946–44.
Another pupil of De Beer was Francisco van der Hamen y León, the grandson of a Flemish immigrant archer and his half-Flemish wife,39 and the son of the painter-archer Juan van der Hamen y León, who died in 1631, not long before his son’s apprenticeship to De Beer began.40 Thus, it was presumably in keeping with Van der Hamen’s wishes that his son Francisco train with a painter from the Low Countries. Indeed the Van der Hamen family traced its roots originally to Utrecht and hence may well have felt a particular connection to De Beer. De Beer’s third Netherlandish apprentice was an immigrant from Brussels, Juan Tío, whom he seems to have taken on more as a workshop assistant than a pupil, since the contract stipulated that Tío would be paid.41 His fourth known apprentice of northern background was Simon Barquín, an archer aspirant and the son of a Burgundian immigrant who served as mace-bearer to the king.42
In addition to his activities as a teacher, De Beer had further professional connections with Flemish immigrant painter-archers. Along with the Antwerp-born painter-archer Francisco de la Corte, De Beer was among 26 signatories of a document in a dispute involving the Madrid painters’ academy in 1622.43 Juan Appelmans from Brussels, another painter-archer, appraised De Beer’s goods upon his death in 1651.44 Unfortunately, we lack extant paintings from quite a few of these immigrants, although De Beer’s known oeuvre is comparatively well-documented, both in terms of his paintings and his prints. The eight paintings securely attributed to him all depict religious subjects, drawn from both the Old and New Testament, with a relatively small number of figures presented full-length, close to the picture plane, in well-saturated colors and often set in landscapes delineated with greater precision than was common among his Spanish colleagues.
De Beer himself sought unsuccessfully to join the Noble Guardia in 1637.45 His rejection was perhaps due to his age46 – he would have been about 52 at that time – but it was almost certainly not due to his Utrecht origins, since other members of the guard in this period were from various northern provinces.47 Yet the fact that De Beer was not a member of the guard clearly did not prevent him from forming close relationships with many archers.
The evidence of Netherlandish immigrant artists participating in the Noble Guardia and their interactions with one another outside the aegis of this organisation suggests that the community of Netherlandish immigrants in Madrid welcomed immigrants from the northern and southern provinces with little distinction; their shared linguistic and religious roots, reinforced by the Noble Guardia’s linguistic demands – knowledge of Dutch or French – and participation in religious confraternities affiliated with the guard, must all have strengthened the unity of this community. One implication of this group’s touting of Netherlandish – or Flemish, to use the more common seventeenth-century term – background is that it heightened awareness of the distinction of being a flamenco artist in Madrid. ‘Flemishness’, for the archers and those close to them, became a quality with which they might not only infuse their art but also with which they might gain an edge in marketing it, both to Spaniards and to other Netherlandish transplants in Madrid. What this quality or qualities might be, however, was necessarily conditioned by the particular context of seventeenth-century Madrid.
A number of artists who routinely sent works to foreign patrons and markets or who lived and worked in regions distant from their own seem to have sought to emphasize their geographical origins as a selling point. At times such assertions took literal form in the signatures inscribed on paintings. Albrecht Dürer, for example, bound himself via his signature variously to his native city of Nuremberg and to a more abstract German identity, using GERMANVS or ALEMANVS, particularly when a work was destined for a foreign locale.48 Likewise, the Spanish artist Jusepe de Ribera, who was born in the town of Játiva in the province of Valencia and who spent much of his career in Naples, signed many paintings with his name and the date, often appending an adjective for Spanish and sometimes also Valencia; this may have helped him market himself to a continuously changing stream of Spanish viceroys in Naples.49 Not only the eventual destination of a work but also the location of the artist seem to have contributed to a heightened desire to convey an artist’s geographical origins, which seem to have been viewed as one element affecting a painting’s substance and, in turn, its value.
Although few seventeenth-century paintings by Low Countries immigrants in Spain include signatures expressly invoking their geographical origins,50 artistic choices could serve as equally decisive ways of expressing and marketing one’s ‘Flemishness’. There is much evidence to suggest that various artistic genres were particularly associated with the Low Countries – without any distinction between north and south – in seventeenth-century Madrid. The case I will focus on here is that of paintings of flowers and more broadly still lifes. Various Flemish immigrant painters in Madrid seem to have capitalised on the Spanish public’s association of these kinds of paintings with the Low Countries. Associations are of course difficult to gauge, but one measure appears in inventories of private collections. The word flores [flowers] appears in 311 entries in seventeenth-century Spanish inventories in the Getty’s database. Written in Spanish and compiled usually, though with exceptions, by Spaniards, these documents provide important evidence of Spaniards viewing still lifes as a quintessentially ‘Flemish’ genre. Although the vast majority of these entries include no mention of a particular painter or possible geographical origin of a work, 81 instances do reference a painter’s name or the inventory writer’s assessment of a painting’s geographical origins or perceived style. Fifty-seven percent of identifiable flower paintings were considered flamenco or were specifically attributed to a painter from the Southern Netherlands, compared with only 26 percent Italian, 11 percent Spanish, and two percent Dutch.51
Immigrant artists from both the Northern and Southern Netherlands seem to have capitalised on the representation of flowers and other kinds of still life as a particularly good strategy for marketing their work as ‘Flemish’ in Madrid. Although no independent flower paintings or still lifes by Cornelis de Beer have yet been identified, he produced at least one floral print based closely on a print by Theodor de Bry (figs. 2 and 3).52 De Beer included three framed floral prints – perhaps his own or those of De Bry – in the dowry for his daughter Maria Eugenia’s marriage in 1642.53 In his print, adhering quite closely to his model, De Beer nonetheless dispensed with the Latin inscription and added a bee hovering over the bouquet as well as two birds; the birds recall those that his daughter designed and engraved in a volume of bird prints that she dedicated in about 1637 to the Spanish prince, Baltasar Carlos, and it has been suggested that she participated in the design of her father’s floral print.54 In his painting of the death of Abel, from a series of works in Murcia, the lower left corner betrays De Beer’s interest in the close depiction of plants (fig. 4). Perhaps most tellingly, however, the inventory of De Beer’s possessions, made after his death in 1651, contains ten floral paintings, including a floral garland encircling the Virgin and Child, as well as paintings of such foods as grapes and meat, and scenes of dogs, fish, and fowl.55
Cornelis de Beer, Vase of flowers, c. 1637, engraving, 29.2 × 20.7 cm, Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, no. 12927.
Jan Sadeler I after Theodor de Bry, from Bunches of flowers in vases, c. 1600, engraving, 29.8 × 22.9 cm, London, British Museum© Trustees of the British Museum.
Cornelis de Beer, The death of Abel, oil on canvas, approx. 245 × 190 cm, Lorca (Murcia), Colegial de San Patricio (photo courtesy of Marián Kruijer Fernández).
A contemporary of De Beer from the Southern Netherlands, the Antwerp immigrant and painter-archer Miguel de Pret seems to have specialised to a large extent in still lifes.56 De Pret died in 1644 in Zaragoza while accompanying the king on a journey.57 In his post-mortem inventory, 68 of the 79 paintings listed contained fruit or flowers, suggesting that this occupied the bulk of his Madrid production.58 The appraisal of De Pret’s paintings was done, interestingly, by the painter Juan de la Corte, who, although not a flower painter himself, was also a specialist, producing in his words, ‘architectures, battles, and landscapes’.59 De la Corte’s grandson Gabriel became well-known not in the same genres as his grandfather but rather as yet another still-life painter, particularly of flowers.60
Thus far, two paintings with De Pret’s signature have come to light and three more have been convincingly attributed to him; all depict fruit.61 Of the two signed paintings, the first discovered presents a meticulously balanced assortment of peppers and various fruits – hanging from string, arranged in two wicker baskets, and lying on a ledge – lit from the left and set against a dark background (fig. 5). The second, like the three remaining attributions, depicts hanging grapes against a black background (fig. 6). Three of these paintings of grapes were previously attributed to De Pret’s Spanish contemporary, Juan Fernández el Labrador.62 Although De Pret’s still lifes may stylistically and compositionally bear more resemblance to those of his Spanish colleagues – not only el Labrador but also Juan Sánchez Cotán – than to even his closest counterparts in Antwerp, such as Osias Beert, it nonetheless appears possible that he sought to market such works as authentic ‘Flemish’ still lifes by a member of the guard. While De Pret’s carefully ordered composition, with its discrete presentation of each item and avoidance of overlapping bodies in space, calls Beert’s compositions to mind, other elements are more evocative of works by the Spaniards, such as the inclusion of hanging objects and the selection of fewer items presented in relatively larger scale, sometimes pared down to a single bunch of grapes. It is worth underscoring that what may look markedly ‘Spanish’ to modern eyes might have lent itself well – in the context of seventeenth-century Madrid and with the added imprimatur of a Flemish immigrant maker and guard member – to marketing as a ‘Flemish’ still life.
Miguel de Pret, Still life with baskets of fruit and melon, c. 1630–1644, oil on canvas, 57.5 × 90 cm, Madrid, Juan Abelló Collection.
Miguel de Pret, Bunch of grapes, c. 1630–1644, oil on canvas, 28 × 26 cm, Madrid, Museo Cerralbo, no. 3898.
Indeed, De Pret’s multi-object still life also seems related to those of his Madrid colleague, Juan van der Hamen y León, whom De Pret may have known; both were archers, although Van der Hamen died a decade before De Pret joined the guard.63 Born in Madrid, Van der Hamen came from a family that had roots in Utrecht, as noted above, although his father hailed from Brussels.64 Despite a wide-ranging production, including history paintings and portraits, Van der Hamen seems to have marketed his still lifes particularly successfully. The 19 references to his paintings in the Getty’s database of seventeenth-century Spanish inventories are exclusively to still lifes.65 The first documentary reference to his work as a painter concerns a lost ‘picture of fruit and game for the South Gallery in the Royal Palace of El Pardo’, commissioned in 1619 to accompany similar works already purchased by the crown.66 This would be one of several occasions on which Van der Hamen received commissions to create works to complement pre-existing, and in at least one instance probably Netherlandish, paintings.67 Throughout his career, he also independently sought out Netherlandish models, which he followed more or less closely, moulding them to his own tastes and, perhaps, to what he perceived as those of the Spanish public, as can be seen with his increasing elaborations upon a composition by Frans Snyders.68
Yet Van der Hamen did not need to be making direct adaptations of Netherlandish paintings for his works to be perceived as ‘Flemish’, as is clear from a pair of unusually formatted, strikingly vertical still lifes, which he painted for Jean de Croÿ, Count of Solre, who arrived in Madrid in about 1624 to assume the position of captain of the guard (fig. 7).69 As scholars have noted, De Croÿ was one of several noblemen close to the king who showed a decided preference for Netherlandish painting, and Van der Hamen’s guard membership and particular talent in producing so-called ‘Flemish’ still lifes likely contributed to his receiving this commission.70 Further evidence that these paintings were perceived as distinctly ‘Flemish’ appears in two inventories. The first is an appraisal of the collection taken at the time of De Croÿ’s death in 1638 and made by two painters, one of whom was Felipe Diriksen, who no doubt knew Van der Hamen in the guard.71 Diriksen was the first Spanish-born son in a four-generation family of Netherlandish painters in Spain, mentioned above. Few paintings are attributed in this document, but the description of these two works is unmistakable and noteworthy: ‘two paintings with some bouquets of flowers from Flanders and some glasses and sweets with some dogs’.72 Although the placement of the modification ‘de Flandes’ leaves ambiguous whether it is the flowers or the paintings themselves that are being described as ‘from Flanders’,73 clearly something about the depicted contents or visual qualities of the paintings triggered this association with Flanders. Indeed, Van der Hamen was certainly well-aware of the potential Flemish resonances of his floral imagery, and Peter Cherry has suggested that Van der Hamen embraced the veneer of authenticity that his Flemish name gave him in Madrid when he painted flowers and fruits.74 Both in his variations on Snyders’ compositions and also in his experimentations with the flower-garland format,75 Van der Hamen referenced not only the very things that might be associated with Flanders, such as flowers, but also ‘Flemish’ conventions for representing them. After the king’s purchase of the pair of paintings with flowers and dogs, the pair appear several decades later in an inventory of the Alcázar palace, with their authorship listed simply as flamenco.76 With the drift of just a few decades, the paintings had lost their attachment to a specific author, yet retained their connection – albeit attenuated, in actuality – to Flanders.
Juan van der Hamen y León, Still lifes with vases of flowers and a dog (left) and a puppy (right), c. 1625, oil on canvas, 228 × 95 cm each, Madrid, Prado © Madrid, Museo Nacional del Prado.
Even through mid-century, at a point when increasing numbers of Spanish painters, most notably Juan de Arellano, had begun to produce floral still lifes, the strength of the association of flower painting with Flanders endured in Spain, uniting artists and images from the Northern and Southern Netherlands under one banner. In his Arte de la Pintura of 1649, Francisco Pacheco wrote of flower painting that ‘some have attained eminence in this type [of painting], particularly in Flanders the famous Florencio, whose portrait may be seen among the illustrious Flemish painters’.77 It has been convincingly suggested that Pacheco is referring here to the Haarlem painter Floris van Dijck, whose portrait first appears in Hendrick Hondius’ 1610 edition of Lampsonius’ effigies, a text which Pacheco referred to on several occasions (fig. 8).78 Van Dijck appears surrounded by actual and painted flowers and with the accompanying text highlighting his ‘painted leaves and fragrant flowers’.79 Despite the clear declaration of this painter’s Haarlem and thereby Northern Netherlandish origins, Pacheco subsumes him within a shared ‘Flemish’ tradition. The only painter in Spain whom Pacheco here mentions as excelling in painting flowers is Van der Hamen, whom he notably describes as ‘archero del Rey’ [archer to the king], an implicit acknowledgement of the painter’s Netherlandish background and a potent reminder of the enduring significance of this title in Spanish perceptions of an artist’s identity. Yet Pacheco’s text underscores that the convergence of ‘Flemishness’ and a talent for still life, while often a successful marketing tool, could be deemed limiting. When he praises Van der Hamen’s paintings of fruit and sweets several pages later, he notes that the artist – much to his dismay – was best known for these, since they surpassed his figures and portraits.80
Hendrick Hondius I, Pictorum aliquot celebrium, præcipué Germaniæ Inferioris, The Hague, 1610, print 62: Portrait of Florentius Dikius, Antwerp, Museum Plantin-Moretus (collection Prentenkabinet) – UNESCO World Heritage, PK.OPB.0099.065.
The association of Van der Hamen with Flanders and with flower and still-life painting persisted with somewhat negative resonances into the eighteenth century, as is evident from Antonio Palomino’s comments in his biographies of painters in Spain, published in 1724. Despite lavishing praise upon Van der Hamen’s versatility – ranging from history paintings and portraits to ‘the painting of fruits, flowers, landscapes, and small still lifes’, Palomino nonetheless noted that the artist ‘still had some of the dryness of the old Flemish manner’. This, one might then surmise, could be related to the fact that, as Palomino wrote, ‘His father was Flemish and a painter, and it is believed that he learned from him the art of Painting’.81 There is, however, no evidence today to suggest that Van der Hamen’s father was in fact a painter, or that Van der Hamen trained with anyone of Netherlandish background in Madrid; his training is still purely a matter of speculation.82 Yet Palomino’s assertions are telling in what they reveal about how certain geographical assumptions about Netherlandish heritage might colour Spanish perceptions about an artist’s work.83
The view from Madrid, then, with its distinctive court institution of the Noble Guardia, may serve as yet another reminder of the many Northern and Southern Netherlandish interactions and collaborations occurring not only within but also beyond the Low Countries. These interactions helped shape what artists produced, how they presented themselves and their work to their potential audiences, and how their paintings were viewed. Immigrant artists from the Low Countries willingly identified as belonging to a shared Netherlandish heritage, and their professional and personal affiliations in Madrid reinforced this image for their Spanish audiences. Compared with the more than two-hundred seventeenth-century inventory references to Flandes and uses of the adjective flamenco, Olanda and olandés appear just eight times in the Getty’s database.84 It is not especially unexpected to find that the smaller numbers of Northern Netherlands immigrants sought out their southern compatriots in a foreign locale; yet it is perhaps still worth emphasising that the categories of ‘Dutch’ and ‘Flemish’ – or even ‘Northern’ and ‘Southern Netherlandish’ – as opposing poles carried scarcely any currency in artistic contexts in seventeenth-century Madrid.
1Christopher Heuer, Jos Koldeweij, Lieneke Nijkamp, and Dennis and Ronna Newman all offered thoughtful comments on earlier drafts, for which I am most grateful. My thanks also for the questions and reactions of this volume’s editors, of those present at the conference in Rotterdam and a workshop in Antwerp, and of an anonymous external reader.
2In addition to the project ‘Cultural transmission and artistic exchanges in the Low Countries, 1572–1672’ and the contributions to this volume, see also, for example, T. DaCosta Kaufmann, ‘An independent Dutch art? A view from Central Europe’, in: De Zeventiende Eeuw 13.1 (1997), p. 359–369; H. Vlieghe, ‘Flemish art, does it really exist?’, in: Simiolus 26.3 (1998), p. 187–200; E.J. Sluijter, ‘Over Brabantse vodden, economische concurrentie, artistieke wedijver en de groei van de markt voor schilderijen in de eerste decennia van de zeventiende eeuw’, in: Nederlands kunsthistorisch jaarboek 50 (1999), p. 112–143 (published in English as ‘On Brabant rubbish, economic competition, artistic rivalry and the growth of the market for paintings in the first decades of the seventeenth century’, in: Journal of the historians of Netherlandish art 1.2 , http://jhna.org/index.php/past-issues/volume-1-issue-2/109-on-brabant-rubbish K. De Clippel, ‘Two sides of the same coin? Genre painting in the North and the South during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries’, in: Simiolus 32.1 (2006), p. 17–34; K. De Clippel and F. Vermeylen, ‘Rubens and Goltzius in dialogue. Artistic exchanges between Antwerp and Haarlem during the Revolt’, in: De Zeventiende Eeuw 28.2 (2012), p. 138–160.
3On the guard, see S.M. De Sotto, Memorias para la historia de las tropas de la Casa Real de España, Madrid 1828, esp. p. 71–78; A. Rodríguez Villa, Etiquetas de la Casa de Austria, Madrid 1913; G. Porras y Rodríguez de León, La prueba nobiliaria de los arqueros, de la Noble Guardia de Corps, Madrid 1962; F. Navarro, C. Morterero, and G. Porras, La nobleza en las armas. Noble Guardia de Arqueros de Corps, Madrid 1962/1995; P. Cherry, Arte y naturaleza. El bodegón español en el Siglo de Oro, Aranjuez 1999, esp. p. 75–76; J.M. Bueno, Guardias reales de España. Desde el reinado de los Reyes Católicos hasta Juan Carlos I, Madrid 2002; J.E. Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales de los Austrias hispanos, Madrid 2013.
4M. Osnabrugge, ‘From itinerant to immigrant artist. Aert Mytens in Naples’, in: Nederlands kunsthistorisch jaarboek 63 (2014), p. 240–263, esp. p. 245–246.
5S. Janssens, ‘Between conflict and recognition. The Bentvueghels’, in: Jaarboek van het KoninklijkMuseum voor Schone Kunsten (2001), p. 56–85, esp. p. 58–59, 63, 76–77. On Low Countries artists’ involvement in Roman confraternities – also quite different from the Noble Guardia – see E. Schulte van Kessel, ‘Samenscholen in het licht van de dood’, in: N. Dacos et al. (eds.), Fiamminghi a Roma, 1508–1608. Kunstenaars uit de Nederlanden en het prinsbisdom Luik te Rome tijdens de Renaissance, Ghent 1995, p. 53–60, 442–443. More broadly on the Bamboccianti, see G. Briganti, The Bamboccianti. The painters of everyday life in seventeenth century Rome, Rome 1983; D.A. Levine and E. Mai (eds.), I Bamboccianti. Niederländische Malerrebellen im Rom des Barock, Milan 1991; U. Piereth, Bambocciade.Bild und Abbild des römischen Volkes im Seicento, Bern, New York 1997; R. Rosso et al., La magi à dei Bamboccianti. Scene di vita popolareare tra seicento e settecento, Treviso 2000; P. Schatborn (ed.), Drawn to warmth. Seventeenth-century Dutch artists in Italy, Zwolle, Amsterdam 2001; C. Marigliani (ed.), La campagna romana dai Bamboccianti alla scuola romana, Rome 2010.
6My Princeton University doctoral dissertation on Flemish immigrant painters and paintings in seventeenth-century Madrid, currently underway, further assesses Netherlandish painters’ motivations for immigrating to Madrid rather than other places, of which the NobleGuardia was, I argue, among the most important motivating factors, along with the absence of a rigid guild structure as compared with Antwerp; on the Antwerp painters’ guild, see K. Van der Stighelen and F. Vermeylen, ‘The Antwerp guild of Saint Luke and the marketing of paintings 1400–1700’, in: N. De Marchi and H.J. Van Miegroet (eds.), Mapping markets for paintings in Europe 1450–1750, Turnhout 2006, p. 189–206, and on the absence of a formal Madrid guild, see M.A. Vizcaíno Villanueva, El pintor en la sociedad madrileña durante el reinado de Felipe IV, Madrid 2005, p. 396–398. For the growing appetite among the Spanish public beyond the crown and at various social levels for collecting paintings, see J.M. Morán Turina and F. Checa Cremades, El coleccionismo en España. De la cámara de maravillas a la galería de pinturas, Madrid 1985; M.B. Burke and P. Cherry, Collections of paintings in Madrid, 1601–1755, Los Angeles 1997, and in the same volume: P. Cherry, ‘Seventeenth-century Spanish taste’, p. 1–107, esp. p. 40, 61 and M.B. Burke, ‘A Golden Age of collecting’, p. 109–187, esp. p. 115, 184; J. Brown, Painting in Spain. 1500–1700, New Haven 1998, esp. p. 144, 173–176, 213, 225–228; there have also been various studies on individual collectors and on collecting in particular regions of Spain. Numerous factors at home also contributed to Netherlandish artists’ desire to emigrate; on the reasons many artists chose to emigrate, focused on the years 1566–1609, see most recently F. Vermeylen, ‘Greener pastures? Capturing artists’ migrations during the Dutch Revolt’, in: Nederlands kunsthistorisch jaarboek 63 (2014), p. 40–57.
7On the Italian perception of a particular Netherlandish specialty in landscape, see most famously the rather denigrating quote attributed to Michelangelo by Francisco de Hollanda; F. De Hollanda, On Antique painting, translated by A. Sedgwick Wohl, University Park 2013, p. 179–180. For additional comments by Paolo Pino, Giorgio Vasari, and Karel van Mander about Netherlanders as landscape specialists, see especially Hessel Miedema’s discussion in K. Van Mander, Den grondt der edel vry schilder-const, ed. and commentary by H. Miedema, 2 vols., Utrecht 1973, vol. 1, p. 94 and vol. 2, p. 408–409. More broadly, see P. Nuttall, From Flanders to Florence. The impact of Netherlandish painting, 1400–1500, New Haven 2004, p. 2, 36, 193–194, 203, 206, 220; B. Aikema and B.L. Brown (eds.), Renaissance Venice and the North. Crosscurrents in the time of Bellini, Dürer, and Titian, New York 2000, and in particular in the same volume: C. Limentani Virdis, ‘Across the Alps and to the Lagoon. Northern artists in Venice during the sixteenth century’, p. 70–75, esp. 74–75 and B.L. Brown, ‘From Hell to Paradise. Landscape and figure in early sixteenth-century Venice’, p. 424–431, esp. 424. I discuss the Spanish associations of Netherlanders with landscape painting in ‘Juan de la Corte. “Branding” Flanders abroad’, in: Nederlands kunsthistorisch jaarboek 63 (2014), p. 264–301.
8Spanish royal interest in Flemish flower paintings is a logical outgrowth of generations of Spanish monarchs’ enthusiasm for Flemish tapestries, and in particular those with a heavy emphasis on floral motifs. For a discussion of Spanish royal collectors of Flemish tapestry, see G. Delmarcel, ‘Introduction’, in: Golden weavings. Flemish tapestries of the Spanish crown, Mechelen 1993, p. 10–16; C. Herrero Carretero, ‘Tesoro de devoción de la corona de España’, in: A la manera de Flandes. Tapices ricos de la corona de España, Madrid 2001, p. 33–51. On Philip II’s interest in tapestries, see especially F. Checa Cremades, ‘Felipe II, el arte de la tapicería y la decoración del real Alcázar de Madrid’, in: F. Checa Cremades and B.J. García García (eds.), Los triunfos de Aracne. Tapices flamencos de los Austrias en el Renacimiento, Madrid 2011, p. 381–403; I. Buchanan, ‘The tapestries acquired by King Philip II in the Netherlands in 1549–50 and 1555–59. New documentation’, in: Gazette des beaux arts 1569 (October 1999), p. 131–152; G. Delmarcel, ‘Le roi Philippe II d’Espagne et la tapisserie. L’inventaire de Madrid de 1598’, in: Gazette des beaux arts 1569 (October 1999), p. 153–178. In the 1598 inventory of Philip II’s collection of tapestries, forty percent of all tapestries fell under the category that Delmarcel describes as ‘verdures, bocages et galeries’, which at 251 tapestries was more than twice the next highest number of any genre, ‘mythologie’; Delmarcel, ‘Le roi Philippe II’, p. 157; Delmarcel, ‘Introduction’, p. 16. The presence of weavers’ marks on tapestries indicating the cities and provinces where tapestries had been produced would have reinforced Spanish audiences’ association of tapestries with Flanders. On such marks, see I. Van Tichelen and G. Delmarcel, ‘Marks and signatures on ancient Flemish tapestries. A methodological contribution’, in: Studies in the history of art 42 (1993), p. 56–69. For a discussion of the large shipments of Flemish tapestries to Spain during the second third of the sixteenth-century, see F. Vermeylen, Painting for the market. Commercialization of art in Antwerp’s Golden Age, Turnhout 2003, p. 89.
9A. Duke, ‘The elusive Netherlands. The question of national identity in the early modern Low Countries on the eve of the Revolt’, in: BMGN-Low Countries historical review 119.1 (2004), p. 10–38.
10Ibidem, p. 11, 24–25, 25 n. 92, 29 n. 110.
11Ibidem, p. 11, 22, 37. See also L. Cruz and H.P. Van Tuyll, ‘Introduction. Boundaries. Real and imagined’, in: B.J. Kaplan, M. Carlson, and L. Cruz (eds.), Boundaries and their meanings in the history of the Netherlands, Boston 2009, p. 1–11, esp. 7, and in the same volume: C.O. Van der Meij, ‘Divided loyalties. States-Brabant as a border country’, p. 15–34, esp. 16.
12Duke, ‘The elusive Netherlands’, p. 26 n. 99. On the terminology applied to Netherlanders in Central Europe, see, for example, Kaufmann, ‘An independent Dutch art?’ (n. 1), p. 366, 369 n. 44; and for the Italian case, see Nuttall, From Flanders to Florence, p. 31, 119; C. Billen, ‘Vlaanderen. Geschiedenis en geografie van een land dat niet bestaat’, in: Dacos, Fiamminghi a Roma (n. 4), p. 48–52, 442.
13On the benefits of a ‘country name’ having a closely related adjective and the preference for these terms among the English, Italians, and Spaniards, see Duke, ‘The elusive Netherlands’, p. 12, 19.
14Cherry, Arte y naturaleza (n. 2), p. 487–488.
15As, for example, in his post-mortem inventory: Archivo Histórico de Protocolos de Madrid (AHPM), Protocolo 2183 (roll no. 390-A), fol. 1440r. This source is unpublished and unreferenced, so far as I am aware. For the most recent publication on a work by Rodrigo Diriksen, see the thorough article by C. García-Frías Checa, ‘Recuperación de un cuadro de la colección de Felipe II en el monasterio de El Escorial. Una Virgen con el Niño de Rodrigo Diriksen’, in: Reales Sitios 198 (2013), p. 70–76. Although numerous twentieth-century sources describe Diriksen as being from Oudenburg, this stems from a transcription error. F.J. Sánchez Cantón, Los pintores de cámara de los reyes de España, Madrid 1916, p. 93, published the declaration of Rodrigo’s grandson Gabriel about his grandfather thus: ‘natural de Oudenburg, que es entre Gramen y Brujas’. My consultation of the original document (AGP, Expediente Personal, Dirsen y Del Baus, Gabriel, caja 16853, Expediente no. 47) yielded the following transcription: ‘natural de Oudenburg=que es entre Gramon (French: Grammont; Dutch: Geraardsbergen) y Bruselas (Brussels)’. This is much more logical because Oudenburg is southwest of Bruges and thus not between Geraardsbergen and Bruges, whereas Oudenberg (sometimes also written Oudeberg) is just northeast of Geraardsbergen and thus in the direction of Brussels. Two publications do gesture to the correct location: A. Martínez Ripoll, ‘La imagen artística del Escorial en la España de los Austrias. Génesis y fijación de un arquetipo visual’, in: F.J. Campos y Fernández de Sevilla (ed.), Literatura e imagen en el Escorial. Actas del simposium, El Escorial 1996, p. 251–294, esp. 261, describes Rodrigo de Holanda as ‘Nacido en Oudenburg (sic), cerca de Bruselas’ and Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales (n. 2), Appendix, p. 504, describes him as ‘natural de Oudenberg aunque llegara a Castilla con un año (sic).’ In fact, it was not Rodrigo de Holanda but rather his wife, Catalina, daughter of the artist Anton van den Wyngaerde, who arrived in Spain at the age of one year, as per the same archival document: ‘mi abuela se llamaba doña Catalina Bandbyngert natural de Anberes y bino a españa de menos de un año.’ I am most grateful to Professor Dr. Jos Koldeweij for his assistance in my efforts to sort out Rodrigo’s origins.
16Archivo General del Palacio (AGP), Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 168.
17AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 168.
18AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 170.
19Hans Vlieghe has stressed this point, with particular reference to artists in Rudolfine Prague and in seventeenth-century Italy: ‘This sense of belonging to a common culture must have been radiated even more strongly by artists who had settled outside the Netherlands’; Vlieghe, ‘Flemish art’ (n. 1), p. 196.
20Most recently on the guard, see Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales.
21As per my count, April 2014.
22Cherry, Arte y naturaleza (n. 2), p. 75, 94 n. 24; Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales, esp. p. 168, 217, 221, 226.
23Rodríguez Villa, Etiquetas (n. 2), p. 51; Porras y Rodríguez de León, La prueba nobiliaria (n. 2), p. 3, 7; Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales, p. 210. There were, however, occasional exceptions to these qualifications. In the sixteenth century, Germans and Italians of high standing sometimes joined the guard, and in the period after 1640, the number of Madrid-born descendants of archers increased tremendously; others with attenuated claims to ‘Flemishness’ were also sometimes admitted in this period; Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales, p. 205–206, 229–230, 370. Hortal Muñoz notes that many of these Madrid-born archers were ‘más castellanos que flamencos, como denotaban sus apellidos’ (more Spanish than Flemish, as their surnames indicate); Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales, p. 229. I would, however, caution against placing too much weight on the hispanization of surnames as an isolated indicator of assimilation, since this happened both with recent immigrants and their descendants and could represent either an individual’s choice or the name used by others for him, even if he himself continued to use the original Dutch version.
24This is evident not only from lists of the archers that I have consulted from later in the century but also from the origins of individual archers; see Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales, Appendix, for the following archers who came from various cities in the North Netherlands: Pedro Cremers, born in Madrid but his family came from Maastricht (1658–1663) (p. 476); Albrecht vanden Duengue, native of ’s-Hertogenbosch (served 1602–1641) (p. 509); Joan de León, born in Madrid but his family came from Utrecht (served 1640–1650) (p. 689); Guillermo de Lovaina, despite his name, a native of ’s-Hertogenbosch (served 1622–1647) (p. 717); Hugo de Roy, native of Utrecht (served 1638–1653) (p. 914); Cristóbal Wisker, native of Utrecht (served 1663–1688) (p. 1045); Jehan de Witt, native of Amsterdam (served 1586–1617) (p. 1048); Isaac Yplar, whose parents were from Amsterdam (served 1679 to at least 1698) (p. 1056). Indeed, Hortal Muñoz has suggested that guard membership may have become a particularly appealing option for those from the rebellious provinces who remained Catholic and loyal to the Spanish king; Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales, p. 219.
25AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 171: ‘Que sean vasallos de su Mag.d y que no ayan tomado el ni los suyos, las armas contra su Mag.d [That they be vasals of Your Majesty and that they have not taken up arms, neither him nor his (family), against Your Majesty]’. See also Porras y Rodríguez de León, La pruebanobiliaria, p. 4; Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales, p. 211. For an example of the specific form this assertion might take in the attestations in support of membership, see e.g. AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 166, ‘Pedro Perret’: Cornelis de Beer testified in 1632, regarding Pedro Perete, ‘cuyos antepassados en las rebeldias siempre han seguido las partes de su Mag.d [whose forebears in the rebellious (provinces) have always taken the side of Your Majesty]’.
26This was also true in the sixteenth century; for lists of how many archers came from which provinces in that period, see Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales, p. 214, 214 n. 155.
27AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 171.
28AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 168: five from Gelderland and two from Holland. Incidentally, in this list, 37 archers are listed with Madrid as their first location; in 33 instances, Madrid has been crossed out in favor of a Netherlandish provenance; in four of these instances, both Madrid and the additional location remain.
29AGP, Reinados, Carlos II, Caja 126, Expediente 3: one each from Amsterdam and Maastricht and two from Gelderland. This list has a number of place names that – due to a combination of handwriting and hispanisation of Netherlandish names – are not easily deciphered.
30M. Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer. Opsporing verzocht. Zoektocht naar een Utrechtse schilder en graveur in 17e-eeuws Madrid’, M.A. thesis, Universiteit van Amsterdam, 2009, p. 36. I am most grateful to the author for sending me her unpublished text, and to Professor Dr. Marten Jan Bok for making me aware of her work.
31Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 5–7. De Beer said he was about 53 years old in a document dated 1638; M. Agulló y Cobo, Más noticias sobre pintores madrileños de los siglos XVI al XVIII, Madrid 1981, p. 27. For what little is known about the shadowy figure of Joost or Joos de Beer, essentially limited to his birth and death in Utrecht, his education and apprentices, his time living with the abbott of the bishop of Tournai, and his position as dean of the saddlers’ guild in 1582, 1583, and 1585, see J.A.L. De Meyere, ‘Utrechtse schilderkunst in de tweede helft van de 16de eeuw’, in: Jaarboek Oud-Utrecht (1978), p. 106–191, esp. 173; A.W. Lowenthal, Joachim Wtewael and Dutch Mannerism, Doornspijk 1986, esp. p. 25, 27, 38; M.G. Roethlisberger and M.J. Bok, Abraham Bloemaert and his Sons. Paintings and Prints, Doornspijk 1993, p. 17, 41–42, 555.
32Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 7–8; J. Blas, M. Cruz de Carlos Varona, and J.M. Matilla, Grabadores extranjeros en la corte española del Barroco, Madrid 2011, p. 31–32. De Beer did, however, return to Utrecht in 1616–1617 before settling permanently in Madrid; Cherry, Arte y naturaleza (n. 2), p. 487.
33All documentary evidence in Madrid confirms Cornelis de Beer’s Catholicism, e.g. his marriage in the parish church of San Sebastián in 1618, where he would also live for many years and in which he asked to be buried; Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 487–488; Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 14, 16, 44, 62.
34For a detailed examination of the practice and regulation of Catholicism in early seventeenth-century Utrecht, see especially B.J. Kaplan, Calvinists and libertines. Confession and community in Utrecht 1578–1620, Oxford 1995, esp. p. 274–278.
35Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 14–15.
36Blas, Cruz de Carlos Varona, and Matilla, Grabadores extranjeros, p. 16, 61.
37AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 166, ‘Pedro Perret’. This document is also discussed in Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 29, 36 and Blas, Cruz de Carlos Varona, and Matilla, Grabadores extranjeros, p. 31–32, 69, 71.
38Blas, Cruz de Carlos Varona, and Matilla, Grabadores extranjeros, p. 622 no. 880, 623 no. 882; Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, Appendix, p. 75. De Beer also collaborated on prints with the Flemish immigrant, Juan de Noort, particularly in the publication of reproductive prints after Italian and Netherlandish designs; Blas, Cruz de Carlos Varona, and Matilla, Grabadores extranjeros, p. 467, 476–480 nos. 640–648; Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, Appendix, p. 75.
39W.B. Jordan, Spanish still life in the Golden Age, 1600–1650, Fort Worth 1985, p. 105.
40W.B. Jordan, Juan van der Hamen y León & the court of Madrid, New Haven 2005, p. 54, 285; W.B. Jordan, ‘Juan van der Hamen y León’, PH.D. thesis, New York University, 1967, p. 272; Cherry, Arte y naturaleza (n. 2), Appendix, p. 484, 488; Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 22, Appendix, p. 55.
41Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 21–22, Appendix, p. 53–54.
42I.C. Bardeci, ‘Documentos para la historia del arte español de los siglos XVI y XVII’, in: Boletín del Museo e Instituto Camón Aznar 41 (1990), p. 87–138, esp. 111. Barquín sought to join the archers in 1638; AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 171.
43M.A. Vizcaíno Villanueva, El pintor en la sociedad madrileña durante el reinado de Felipe IV, Madrid 2005, p. 389–390. Incidentally, Francisco de la Corte’s brother Juan, who was also a painter but not an archer, was also among the signatories.
44Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, Appendix, p. 488–490.
45Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, Appendix, p. 488; Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 36; AGP, Histórica, Tropas de la Real Casa, Archeros, Caja 171.
46Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 36.
47For example, Hugo de Roy, whom Cornelis de Beer knew; for De Roy and his relationship with De Beer, see Kruijer Fernández, ‘Cornelis de Beer’, p. 15, 36, Appendix, p. 64–65, 74. De Roy was born in Utrecht in 1598 and joined the guard in 1638; Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales (n. 2), Appendix, p. 914.
48D. Eichberger, ‘Albertus Durer Noricvs. A European artist in the context of his native city, Nuremberg’, in: F. Checa Cremades, Durero y Cranach. Arte y humanismo en la Alemania del Renacimiento, Madrid 2007, p. 482–488, esp. 482–483. On the significance of artistic signatures in fourteenth-, fifteenth-, and sixteenth-century Italy, see R. Goffen, ‘Signatures. Inscribing identity in Italian Renaissance art’, in: Viator 32 (2001), p. 303–370; although generally more focused on signatures as professional or gestural assertions rather than as expressions of an artist’s relation to a place, the latter subject – or at least the idea of signing as advertising – arises in passing, esp. p. 308, 308 n. 25, 318, 320, 327.
49For sensitive discussions of this practice, see most recently J. Brown, In the shadow of Velázquez, New Haven, London 2014, esp. p. 47, 50, 52; K. Hellwig, ‘Künstleridentität und Signatur in Spanien im 17. Jahrhundert. Velázquez, Zurbarán, Ribera und Palominos Kommentare im Parnaso Español Pintoresco Laureado’, in: N. Hegener (ed.), Künstler-Signaturen von der Antike bis zur Gegenwart – Signatures of European Artists from Antiquity to the Present, Petersberg 2012, p. 316–339, spec. 330–331; K. Hellwig, ‘¿Firmar o no firmar? Observaciones sobre la práctica de la signatura en los pintores españoles del Siglo de Oro a propósito de las notas de Antonio Palomino’, in: Boletín del Museo del Prado 29.47 (2011), p. 40–53, esp. 45–46. Interestingly, both Dürer and Ribera, despite proclaiming their origins, had complicated and often negative opinions about the status and treatment of painters in their native lands; Eichberger, ‘Albertus Durer Noricvs’, esp. p. 483, 486; J. Brown and R. Enggass, Italy and Spain, 1600–1750. Sources and documents, Englewood Cliffs (N. J.)1970, p. 178–180.
50One exception is a painting by Jan Baptist de Wael inscribed ‘Joannes Bautista de Wael antuerpiensis pinxit et huic ecclesiae dono dedit, anno 1682’; I. Gutiérrez Pastor, ‘Raeth, de Wael y Raghuet. Tres pintores flamencos en el Madrid seiscentista’, in: Boletín del Museo e Instituto Camón Aznar 55 (1994), p. 45–54, esp. 47–48, 51 fig. 2. I discuss the implications of this signature further in my Princeton University doctoral dissertation, currently underway. Juan van der Hamen y León’s decision to frequently use this long form of his name, signalling both his Flemish and Spanish lineage, is a relevant, though less explicit, variant on such explicit statement of one’s geographical origins. On Van der Hamen’s use of this form of his name to emphasize both his Spanish and Flemish heritage, possibly in an effort to attract clients, see Jordan, Spanish still life (n. 38), p. 105; Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 73, 76, 85. Laura Bass intriguingly suggests that this doubling perhaps ‘betrays an anxiety of belonging’; I am grateful to her for sharing with me the text of her unpublished lecture, ‘“Hurtas mi vulto”. Góngora’s portrait sonnet and the politics of the Paragone’, Charlottesville (VA) 2013. For an overview of Spanish artists’ signing practices, see Hellwig, ‘¿Firmar o no firmar?’.
51Getty Provenance Index ® databases, J. Paul Getty Trust, searched March 19, 2014, Country of Document: Spain, Date of Document: 1550*:1700*, Keyword: flores, then by Artist Nationality. Preliminary searches of several ‘religious subjects’ in the Getty’s database (searched August 23, 2014, within the following parameters: Country of Document: Spain, Date of Document: 1550*:1700*, Artist Name: Flemish, to retrieve anonymous paintings indicated as having been made in Flanders or appearing Flemish) yield comparatively few, suggesting perhaps that an inventory writer was less likely to view a painting with a prominent religious narrative component than with flowers as ‘Flemish’. The examples I searched in the Subject/Iconoclass field were the following, with the first number indicating the number of results when the Artist Name field was ‘Flemish’ and the second number indicating the number of results when that field was left blank: Adoration of the kings (3, 157), Adoration of the shepherds (0, 19), Annunciation (0, 72), Circumcision (0, 11), Crucifixion (0, 123), Ecce homo (0, 170), Jerome (0, 234), Lamentation (1, 11), Nativity (2, 158), Presentation in the temple (0, 19), Saint (0, 20), Virgin (0, 63). I am grateful to Karolien de Clippel, whose question prompted this preliminary investigation, which I hope to consider further in my dissertation.
52Blas, Cruz de Carlos Varona, and Matilla, Grabadores extranjeros (n. 31), p. 657–658 no. 936, where the engraving is attributed to Cornelis de Beer (?)/María Eugenia de Beer (?), Vase of flowers, c. 1637, engraving, 29.2 × 20.7 cm, Madrid, Biblioteca Nacional de España, inv. no. 12927. It takes as its model a print from a series engraved by Theodor de Bry after paintings by Jacob Kempener. These engravings were republished several times in inverted form: first c. 1596–1600 by Jan Sadeler I and then again by both Pietro Paolo Tozzi and Filippo Succhiello.
53J.L. Barrio Moya, ‘Las pinturas de Cornelio de Beer en la iglesia de San Patricio de Lorca y algunas noticias sobre el artista’, in: Murgetana 102 (2000), p. 9–25, esp. 15, 17: ‘yten diez laminas guarnezidas con sus marcos de ebano … otras tres de ramilleteros [item 10 copperplates furnished with their ebony frames … another three of bouquets (of flowers)]’.
54See Blas, Cruz de Carlos Varona, and Matilla, Grabadores extranjeros, p. 72ff. The production of prints and paintings by Netherlandish artists in Madrid, while closely interrelated in terms of their practitioners and the collaborations they entailed, may have been seen as rather different tools by an artist seeking to ‘market’ his or her ‘Flemishness’. A print’s often explicit reference to the site of its production – and De Beer’s prints are no exception in this – could perhaps have worked against an effort to market De Beer’s prints as products ‘of Flanders’, binding them instead to their production in Madrid; in addition to the inscription on the floral print, ‘Corneleo de Beer excud en Madrid’, his prints of the Four Seasons after Jacopo Bassano and drawn by Juan de Noort are inscribed ‘Juan de Noort Fecit Corneleo de Beer excudit en Madrid 1629’. Yet conversely, prints may have lent themselves more facilely than paintings to the kind of multiple layers of cultural identity that Netherlandish immigrant artists in Madrid and their children sought to convey, allowing for the literal inscription of multiple geographical places, contextualizing different stages of the process, on a single print, although this option does not seem to have appealed very often to artists in Madrid.
55AHPM, Protocolo 7104, see esp. fols. 15r-16v.
56P. Cherry, ‘Miguel de Pret (1595–1644), documentos y un cuadro nuevo’, in: Archivo español de arte 81.324 (2008), p. 415–417; L. Alba Carcelén and A. Aterido Fernández, ‘Juan Fernández el Labrador, Miguel de Pret y la “construcción” de la naturaleza muerta’, in: Boletín del Museo del Prado 31.49 (2013), p. 34–53. I am most grateful to Carmen Morais Puche for her assistance in obtaining this article.
57Cherry, ‘Miguel de Pret’, p. 415; Alba Carcelén and Aterido Fernández, ‘Juan Fernández el Labrador’, p. 45. About the trip to Zaragoza, see also I. Gutiérrez Pastor, ‘La pintura madrileña del pleno Barroco y los pintores de Aragón en tiempos de Vicente Berdusán (1632–1697)’, in: J.C. Lozano López (ed.), Vicente Berdusán (1632–1697) y Aragón, Zaragoza 2006, p. 15–73, esp. 31–32, 65–66 ns. 35–36.
58Alba Carcelén and Aterido Fernández, ‘Juan Fernández el Labrador’, p. 45.
59J.J. Martín González, ‘Sobre las relaciones entre Nardi, Carducho y Velázquez’, in: Archivo español de arte 31.121 (March 1958), p. 59–66, esp. 60.
60On Gabriel de la Corte, see Cherry, Arte y naturaleza (n. 2), esp. p. 152–154, Appendix, p. 565–566, figs. 23, 244–250, pls. 129, 133, 134.
61For these most recent attributions to De Pret, see Alba Carcelén and Aterido Fernández, ‘Juan Fernández el Labrador’.
62For the grape paintings’ complicated technical history involving canvas reuse, cutting, and insertions, see Alba Carcelén and Aterido Fernández, ‘Juan Fernández el Labrador’, esp. p. 38–40.
63Cherry, ‘Miguel de Pret’ (n. 55), p. 415; Alba Carcelén and Aterido Fernández, ‘Juan Fernández el Labrador’, p. 44. For differences between Van der Hamen’s and De Pret’s respective painting techniques, see the close analysis in R. Asenjo Romero, El bodegón español en el siglo XVII. Desvelando su naturaleza oculta, Madrid 2009, p. 141–144.
64Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 73; Jordan, Juan van der Hamen y León & the court (n. 39), p. 45–47.
65Getty Provenance Index ® databases, J. Paul Getty Trust.
66W.B. Jordan, ‘Juan van der Hamen y Leon (1596–1631)’, in Jordan, Spanish still life (n. 38), p. 106.
67For the works commissioned to complement preexisting probably Netherlandish works, see S. Schroth, ‘Early collectors of still-life painting in Castile’, in: Jordan, Spanish still life, p. 28–39, esp. 37; W.B. Jordan and P. Cherry, Spanish still life from Velázquez to Goya, London 1995, p. 49.
68Jordan, Spanish still life, p. 109; Jordan and Cherry, Spanish still life from Velázquez to Goya, p. 49; and for further discussion of these paintings and Van der Hamen’s modifications, as well as discussion of how Van der Hamen imitated Snyders’ very process, see Jordan, Juan van der Hamen y León & the court, p. 103–107.
69F. Scheffler and L. Ramón-Laca, ‘The gardens of Jean de Croÿ, Count of Solre, in Madrid and the “Offering to Flora” by Juan van der Hamen’, in: Garden history 33.1 (Summer 2005), p. 135–145, esp. 137; Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 85.
70Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 85. For additional comments on Van der Hamen’s leveraging of his Flemish identity as a still life painter, see Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 76, 86.
71The two overlapped as archers for the entirety of Van der Hamen’s membership: Felipe Diriksen served as an archer from 1612–1679 and Van der Hamen from 1622–1631; Hortal Muñoz, Las guardas reales (n. 2), Excel no. 1291 and Appendix, p. 624.
72Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 85–86: ‘dos quadros donde estan Unos Ramilleteros de flores de flandes y unos Vidros y dulçes con unos Perros’. R. Percival, A dictionary in Spanish and English, London 1623, defines ramillete as ‘a nosegay of flowers’ (p. 202) and vidro as a synonym for ‘vidrio, m. glasse’ (p. 243).
73Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 98 n. 140, also notes this ambiguity. Felix Scheffler and Luis Ramón-Laca indicate that the bouquets in these paintings follow those depicted in flower still lifes painted in Flanders; yet as these authors note in discussing another painting by Van der Hamen, various flowers that grew in seventeenth-century Madrid came originally from Flanders; Scheffler and Ramón-Laca, ‘The gardens of Jean de Croÿ’, p. 138, 141. Thus, the question of whether individual flowers within such a bouquet would have been interpreted as ‘Flemish’ or ‘Spanish’ is rather difficult to determine.
74Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 76, 85.
75On Van der Hamen’s garland paintings, see Jordan, Juan van der Hamen y León & the court (n. 39), esp. p. 233–249.
76Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 98 n. 141. For an additional instance of floral paintings by Van der Hamen subsequently being described as ‘Flemish’ in inventories, see Cherry, Arte y naturaleza, p. 83, 97 n. 110.
77F. Pacheco, Arte de la pintura, ed. by B. Bassegoda i Hugas, Madrid 1990, p. 509.
78Pacheco, Arte de la pintura, p. 515 n. 14, 539, 539–540 n. 23. For further discussion of Pacheco’s familiarity with and interpretation of Lampsonius’ text, see S.A. Vosters, ‘Lampsonio, Vasari, Van Mander y Pacheco’, in: Goya 189 (1985), p. 130–139, esp. 134–135, 138.
80‘Juan de Vanderramen las hizo extremadamente, y mejor los dulces, aventajándose en esta parte a las figuras y retratos que hacía y, así, esto le dio, a su despacho, mayor nombre’; Pacheco, Arte de la pintura, p. 512.
81A. Palomino de Castro y Velasco, Lives of the eminent Spanish painters and sculptors, translated by N. Mallory, Cambridge, New York 1987, p. 134 no. 101.
82Jordan, Juan van der Hamen y León & the court (n. 39), p. 51.
83By Palomino’s time, however, the link between paintings of flowers and Flanders had weakened, as is evident in his biography of Gabriel de la Corte, best-known for his flower paintings. After noting, albeit incorrectly, that Gabriel was the son of Francisco de la Corte, ‘a painter of perspectives’ (Francisco was, in fact, his great-uncle), Palomino wrote that Gabriel ‘was born in this city of Madrid in the year 1648, and having shown an inclination for Painting and not having progressed much in his father’s school – either because that is a frequent failing of children or because his father died when he was very young – he applied himself to flower painting, copying some from nature and others from Arellano and Mario’; Palomino de Castro y Velasco, Lives, p. 317–318 no. 189. This passage is telling: Palomino does not mention that the De la Corte family in Francisco’s generation came from Antwerp; he does, however, make a distinct break between father and son here, such that Gabriel’s points of reference in flower painting are situated squarely within Spanish (Juan de Arellano) and Italian (Mario Nuzzi) traditions, rather than within the Netherlandish tradition.
84Getty Provenance Index ® databases, J. Paul Getty Trust, searched April 2, 2014: Flandes: 108; flamenco(s): 47; flamenca(s): 65; Olanda: 1; Olandés: 7.