Page 110 - The mystery of faith

to the grieving question behind the tear-filled eyes. Throughout the work this expressive intensity is
maintained through the assured application of refined technique in the carved and painted detail. This
is particularly evident in the eyes, which, while they appear inset, are actually painted with some traces
of attached eyelashes (possibly of horsehair) remaining on the right eye. Sánchez-Mesa Martín noted
that Risueño ‘rarely used [inset] glass eyes, since he achieves an equal, if not superior, effect with the
brush and usually painted [the eyes] to appear swollen with a penetrating effect [...] He carves the
mouth to appear half-open revealing the white teeth, and to further symbolize her grief, he resorts to a
glass or crystal tear, to bring his figure to life and [therefore] make her suffering tangible.’4 These details
are all included in the present sculpture.

The figure is slightly smaller than life size – Risueño did not care for the monumental – and is dressed
in a red tunic, with a creamy white collar, which is covered by a thick dark blue mantle falling from the
forehead and over the left arm, leaving the right arm uncovered. The play of the mantle is of great
compositional effect, marking a deep arch over the head and shoulders, before tracing a strong diagonal
across the front of the figure, which frames the upper half of the Virgin’s body. This arrangement of the
mantle is also found in other painted and sculptural works by Risueño, and is an identifiable
characteristic of his style.5

The thick, exuberant drapery folds, the undulation of the cloth in the sleeves and the general sense of
striving for the elaborate in this work is reminiscent of several works by Risueño, particularly an Infant
Christ in a private collection in Granada; a Saint Theresa in the Church of San Matías, (Granada); and
the Virgin and Child with the Infant Baptist in the Gómez-Moreno Collection in Madrid.

The present Dolorosa is depicted standing, with a slight contrapposto, barely perceptible underneath
the heavy mantle folds, which reveal only the left foot advanced with the toes just beyond the edge of
the pedestal. Given the overall level of detail and refinement, this last feature is somewhat surprising.
However, Risueño used a similar position of the foot in his sculpture of Saint John of God in the
Church of San Matías. In general, Risueño did not reveal the feet in his images of female saints and
Virgins, where they are usually covered under a tunic or mantle. In the cases where they are visible, the
foot is depicted shod in a light sandal (as in the present work) or in a shoe covering the toes. In the case
of our Dolorosa, one might posit the theory that Risueño included such an evidently ‘naked’ detail in
his heavily draped depiction of the subject to further symbolize a sense of desolation and sorrow.

In this sculpture, as in several others by Risueño, the carving and painting of the forms are utterly
interdependent. Sánchez-Mesa Martín noted in his technical analysis of the artist that when making
the hair Risueño not only carves the texture of the hair, but also models the locks with the brush,
painting the transition from the face in fine strokes, to create delicate wisps issuing over the part of the
brow and even the neck. This is another characteristic feature of the present work (see colour detail
on p. 111).

Finally, the arrangement and design of the garments also provides us with a clear example of the
seamless integration of painting and sculptural techniques in seventeenth-century Granadine sculpture,

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