Maja and Celestina on a Balcony 1812

Editor: Here we have Goya's "Maja and Celestina on a Balcony," painted around 1812. It's oil on canvas, and right away, the contrasting figures are so striking! The young woman is luminous, but the other figure lurking behind her is quite sinister. What do you make of their dynamic? Curator: Ah, yes. It’s a delicious dance of light and shadow, isn't it? That ‘Celestina’ figure – she’s named after a famous procuress in Spanish literature, always whispering temptations. I almost feel sorry for the ‘Maja’, all powdered and perfumed. Don't you sense the worldliness in that smirk from the procuress – it's a cruel kind of education. Like, "Honey, you have *no* idea what you're in for.” I wonder if Goya was suggesting something similar about Spain itself at the time, being led astray… Editor: I hadn't considered that the characters might represent larger social issues, that's fascinating! What do you think the artist wants the audience to think of Maja's knowing expression? Curator: Hmm, that smile. Perhaps a forced, societal expectation? Or maybe, and this is just a flight of fancy, Goya saw a little of himself in her. Both creating a sort of artifice, offering something to be desired, and wondering if it’s all a bit hollow. Tell me, do you feel it in your gut, that little tug between beauty and corruption? Editor: Absolutely, that push and pull. It's making me rethink the entire painting now. I was focusing on the beautiful woman but overlooked so much in the darker corners! Curator: Isn't it always the way with art? Or with life, for that matter? Thanks for pointing us to those shadows!