Early 18th-century Spanish School, Christ in the Tomb

Name: Early 18th-century Spanish School, Christ in the Tomb
Brand: Antique
SKU: SA1148576
Availability: SoldOut

18th century

Sold by Brave Fine Art

Description

This evocative early 18th-century oil painting depicts Christ in the tomb partially wrapped in a white linen shroud. It’s probably of Spanish origin.

Images of Christ’s listless corpse laid out on cut rock have taken numerous forms over the years and are also referred to as ‘The Entombment of Christ’ or ‘Dead Christ’. One of the earliest was produced by Hans Holbein the Younger between 1520 and 1522, and when seen in person, its grotesque sense of realism evokes a visceral reaction. Holbein’s is life-size with Christ’s head tilting outwards - mouth and eyes open. It’s jarring, as the suggestion of movement creates an unnerving juxtaposition of life and death.

During the mid 17th century, French artist Philippe de Champaigne (1602-1674) rendered Christ with his head raised - open wounds gaping, with a bloodied crown of thorns resting against discoloured cloth. It’s equally disturbing due to its realism and seems to emit an ethereal glow.

In ours, which appears to borrow from 17th-century Spanish models, Christ’s greenish-grey flesh is turned towards the viewer with his left arm hanging limp. His eyes are closed, head tilted back - almost hovering above the slab.

In this moment, between the crucifixion and the resurrection, we’re reminded of Christ’s mortality on Earth, and indeed our own. It’s a ‘memento mori’ and a portrayal of suffering. However, within every depiction of Christ in the tomb, the common denominator is hope. For even in one’s darkest hour, each of us can rise again.

Held in a contemporary frame.

Medium: Oil on canvas

Overall size: 28½” x 16½” / 72cm x 42cm

Year of creation: c. 1725

Provenance: Private collection, Germany.

Condition: Cleaned. Revarnished. Canvas relined. Craquelure throughout. The paint layer is stable. Later stretcher. Frame in excellent condition.

Our reference: BRV2140

Physical Dimensions

Height

42cm (16.54")

Width

72cm (28.35")

Depth

2cm (0.79")

Declaration

Brave Fine Art has dated this piece to the 18th Century.

Reference Numbers

Sellingantiques Reference

SA1148576

Description

This evocative early 18th-century oil painting depicts Christ in the tomb partially wrapped in a white linen shroud. It’s probably of Spanish origin.

“

Images of Christ’s listless corpse laid out on cut rock have taken numerous forms over the years and are also referred to as ‘The Entombment of Christ’ or ‘Dead Christ’.

Brave Fine Art

One of the earliest was produced by Hans Holbein the Younger between 1520 and 1522, and when seen in person, its grotesque sense of realism evokes a visceral reaction. Holbein’s is life-size with Christ’s head tilting outwards - mouth and eyes open. It’s jarring, as the suggestion of movement creates an unnerving juxtaposition of life and death.

fig 1. Early 18th-Century Spanish School, Christ In The Tomb — fig 1. Early 18th-century Spanish School, Christ in the Tomb

During the mid 17th century, French artist Philippe de Champaigne (1602-1674) rendered Christ with his head raised - open wounds gaping, with a bloodied crown of thorns resting against discoloured cloth. It’s equally disturbing due to its realism and seems to emit an ethereal glow.

fig 2. Early 18th-Century Spanish School, Christ In The Tomb — fig 2. Early 18th-century Spanish School, Christ in the Tomb

In ours, which appears to borrow from 17th-century Spanish models, Christ’s greenish-grey flesh is turned towards the viewer with his left arm hanging limp. His eyes are closed, head tilted back - almost hovering above the slab.

fig 3. Early 18th-Century Spanish School, Christ In The Tomb — fig 3. Early 18th-century Spanish School, Christ in the Tomb

In this moment, between the crucifixion and the resurrection, we’re reminded of Christ’s mortality on Earth, and indeed our own. It’s a ‘memento mori’ and a portrayal of suffering. However, within every depiction of Christ in the tomb, the common denominator is hope. For even in one’s darkest hour, each of us can rise again.