062

  • No hay quien nos desate? (Will No One Untie Us?), from Lost Caprichos (The Caprices)

  • Etched 1793-1798, published 1799, posthumous printing
  • Francisco José de Goya (Spanish 1746-1828)
  • Intaglio
  • 21.4 x 15.1 cm., 8-1/2 x 5-15/16" image
  • Catherine Carter Goebel, Paul A. Anderson Chair in the Arts Purchase, Paul A. Anderson Art History Collection, Augustana College 2000.20

Essay by Allen Bertsche, Director, International and Off-Campus Programs, Professor of Spanish

While there is an undeniable streak of cynicism in even the lightest and most frivolous of Francisco de Goya's works, it is in his etchings and aquatints where we can find his most direct and powerful critiques of society and its foibles. This print, "¿No hay quien nos desate?," or "Is there no one who can unbind us?," demonstrates a trademark scorn for both superstition and unchallenged tradition in Spanish society which define the series of prints called Los Caprichos (the Caprices). While not as overtly anticlerical or critical of political structures as many of the Caprichos, this image of a man and woman bound together, seemingly tied to a tree as prey for the bespectacled owl above them, strikes at one of the principal social norms of the time: arranged marriage.

The theme of marriage, and, in particular, the difficult cultural transition from a model of marriage as economic or familial contract to an act of love entered into willingly by young paramours rather than through parental directive, was very much a contentious issue at the time of this work, first published in 1799. One of the most influential playwrights of the time, Leonardo Fernández de Moratín, depicted the same sense of tragic misfortune as Goya's aquatint in his most famous work, the 1801 satirical drama "El sí de las niñas" or "The Maidens' Consent," a play which draws attention to the role of parents in matchmaking and the often undesirable pairings created for economic or social gain.

Both Goya and Moratín stressed the impact on the young woman, in the case of this print, with the ill-fated bride, tied at the waist and ankles to her equally unhappy husband, suffering both his struggles to move or free himself and the ominous talons of the owl. Rather than struggle herself, she seems to take on a pose of despair or futility, perhaps foreshadowing a life of abnegation, a term often used to describe the role of the ideal wife and mother whose identity becomes defined as one of service to her husband and children. Though we might certainly look at the male figure, straining against the ropes around them both, as a victim as well. And then, there is the owl. As with many of Goya's Caprichos, animal imagery highlights the absurdity of both superstition and tradition. In this case the owl's odd spectacle eyes reflect the wisdom of the ages, a wisdom Goya rejects as irrational folly. While not as powerful as the animal imagery in a work such as "El sueño de la razón" ("The Sleep of Reason"), the owl effectively emphasizes the irrationality of blind tradition which Goya, among many, lambastes at the dawning of the 19th Century.