'Iconography of Evil': The Symbolic Power of Tapestry at the Royal Collections Gallery

Always overshadowed by paintings, tapestries rarely occupy the foreground of exhibitions today. However, for centuries they served as the monumental backdrop for ceremonies and palace halls. With one of the world's most important collections in terms of quality and quantity (it houses more than 3,000 tapestries), the National Heritage Institute (Heritage Nacional) has sought to restore that prominence in "Iconography of Evil. Tapestries of the Deadly Sins," the temporary exhibition at Madrid's Royal Collections Gallery until September 28.

During the press conference, the president of National Heritage, Ana de la Cueva , pointed out that this exhibition "is not just about ancient art, but about a theme that continues to challenge us: the representation of evil . The iconography of sin remains surprisingly relevant." "These tapestries challenge us from the present. Sins like pride and anger are not things of the past: we still see them every day," confirmed Víctor Cageao, director of the Gallery.

Known as the 'Tapestries of the Seven Deadly Sins,' these ten colossal pieces were made in Flanders and acquired by Philip II in the 16th century. They have since been part of the Royal Collections . "This is the first time they have been presented with a scientific purpose, from a museological perspective , as true protagonists of a narrative discourse," De la Cueva emphasized.

Measuring 8 metres wide and 5 metres high, they belong to two different series designed by Pieter Coecke van Aelst . Four came from the collection of Philip II's aunt, Mary of Hungary , who commissioned them to decorate the Binche Palace (Brussels) on the occasion of the visit of Emperor Charles V and his son in 1549. The second series belonged to the Count of Egmont and consists of six tapestries made in the workshops of Wilhelm Pannemaker in Brussels based on designs by Van Aelst, in a context where the kings of the House of Austria dominated the Netherlands, the main center of tapestry production in Renaissance Europe.

"We wanted to give visibility to a heritage that has always been there, but has remained in a discreet background compared to other more prominent arts, such as painting," Cageao pointed out, adding that they are in a very good state of preservation.

Although the National Heritage collection owes its origin to Isabella the Catholic and Emperor Charles V, it was Philip II who transformed tapestry into one of the visual languages ​​of royal power. In this context, according to the exhibition's curator, Roberto Muñoz Martín, "they demonstrated the richness of the monarchy and the interest it had in depicting certain symbolic stories of its reign. They were also used to alter perspectives, architecture, and even urban planning."

Each of the images displayed in "Iconography of Evil" depicts one of the seven deadly sins within a single framework , according to Muñoz Martín. "It opens with Hell and shows a triumphal chariot with a female figure who is the personification of sin and is usually pulled by a metaphorical animal. They are always led by a knight with a banner, representing a symbolic animal or some object that highlights this deadly sin. This entire procession always heads toward a city that is in the background. What is differentiated are the characters, but the structure is always the same."

The exhibition (supported by the Community of Madrid) makes it possible, for the first time, to view these tapestries in all their splendor. "This museum has a virtue: it allows the tapestries to be displayed in their actual dimensions , without folding or cutting them, which gives us a unique opportunity to see them as they were intended," Cageao emphasized.

The museum design itself recreates the original arrangement in which Mary of Hungary installed them in the Binche Palace for the visit of Emperor Charles V and his son. "Pride was placed just behind the canopy, where Charles V and Philip II were, saying that they were the only ones who could dominate the pride of the rebellious princes," explained Muñoz Martín. "The other tapestries—sloth, lust, and anger—represented the sins of these Protestant princes, and the figure of the monarch was the one who had to appease them with his staff of office," he added.

In dialogue with them, the tapestries belonging to the Count of Egmont are displayed so that the visitor can appreciate the variations in visual narratives and ethical codes of one of the most brilliant periods in the history of textile art. Each tapestry simultaneously depicts a sin and its opposite virtue: charity versus avarice, chastity versus lust, patience versus anger, temperance versus gluttony, generosity as an antidote to envy, and diligence to combat laziness. Their borders and medallions with Latin inscriptions reinforce the message, warning of the dangers of falling into the deadly sins .

These tapestries acted as a woven allegory of power and were also a vehicle for the moral teaching of the monarchy. To understand their symbolism, the role they played at court as a vehicle for moral teaching and the affirmation of royal power, and the evolution of the taste for tapestries in Spain, they are distributed across five different exhibition spaces . Among the 38 pieces in the accompanying collection is a new acquisition from the National Heritage: "Portrait of Mariana of Neuburg as a Widow" (Van Kessel, 1701-1706).

The exhibition also features two loans. The first is a manuscript from the National Library of Spain, dated between 1546 and 1553, which discusses the importance of the tapestries of the seven deadly sins woven by Pannemaker. The other loan is a painting from the Abelló Collection that reflects the role of tapestries in ceremonial events, "Ornamentation of the Guadalajara Gate for the Entry of Charles III into Madrid" (attributed to Lorenzo Quirós, 1760).