Epochs: Where Both Sides Gained

During the 13th century, King Alfonso the Wise produced the first illustrated history of Spain. The rare book showed that just as art may serve as magic, nature’s mirror or man’s mirth, it is also a priceless visual testament to the past. Seeing history in art fascinates Photographer Bradley Smith, who spent two years in Spain taking pictures of more than 235 art works, from the 20,000 B.C. cave paintings of Altamira to the present-day works of Miró and Picasso.

This colorful calendar of events is an approach that Smith, 56, first attempted with a book on Japan. To get the best possible photographs for his present work,* he mounted flimsy scaffolds in Moorish mosques, prowled the chill cellars of El Escorial, and nestled in the niches of the Prado. One of the most fascinating chapters of the book depicts the 800-year-long confrontation of Moor and Christian (see color pages), a conflict that forged the Spanish spirit, united a nation and changed Spain’s art forever.

Chain Mail & Battle-Axes. What the book proves in pictures is that, while in the clash of two peoples both may lose, in the clash of two cultures both may gain. When 12,000 Arab troops landed at Gibraltar in A.D. 711, the invaders brought along with their scimitars a civilization that was far in advance of anything found in Europe during the Dark Ages. With the conquering Moslem armies came algebra, advances in medicine, chess, astronomy, paper instead of papyrus. Compared with heavy Romanesque, their architecture seemed to defy gravity, lifting lacy ceilings that appeared to float like airy tents above thin columns of jasper and porphyry, while within each courtyard water splashed from fountains, turning their Islamic buildings into cool cases in stone.

Under the Omayyad caliphs, Moorish Spain became the strongest, richest nation in Europe. Shortly after the first millennium, the caliphate splintered into tiny Moorish principalities. In the era typified by El Cid, the soldier of fortune who served both Moslems and Christians, chivalry became a warring way of life for Christians. Spanish knights or caballeros, often owning nothing but horse and armor, served to oust the Moors. Monks wore chain mail and were led by bishops wielding battle-axes. The conflict, for Christians, took on the character of a holy crusade, but it was warfare often punctured by periods of peace. Both Moor and Christian often found it more convenient to be brothers than enemies, and fast friendships often developed.

The power struggle had little to do with the pleasures of life learned from the Moors. Bullfighting became a sport shared by all the populace, and even an elementary form of baseball emerged. The cult of courtly love crossed the Pyrenees, and was adopted by Moorish lords, who in song and painting boasted of their prowess, both as warriors and lovers. Mudéjar art, produced by Moslems living under Christian rule, flourished. So did medicine and many of Spain’s great universities date from this fruitful period. When in 1492, the year Columbus discovered the New World, the last Moors, as well as the Jews, were finally driven from Spain, they left behind as their legacy a new nation cross-fertilized by the cultures of three religions.

Haunting Harmonies. Today, some echoes of the past conflicts remain. In Fez, ancient Moorish families still jealously guard as heirlooms the keys to their former castles in Spain. And in Spain, it was only last week, in fact, that a high Spanish official paid a formal visit to the historic Jewish synagogue in Toledo, probably the first event of its kind since the expulsion of the Jews.

But if wounds take centuries to heal, the hardy culture that grew from conflict has proved endlessly enriching. The taste for decorative, geometric art is still shown in Spain’s intricate metalwork and cabinetry. The turn-of-the-century architect, Antoni Gaudi, resorted in his unfinished Church of the Holy Family in Barcelona to restless linear rhythms that recall the Moorish Alhambra. Andalusian laments still recall an Arab origin, and even the haunting cries of flamenco suit a caliph better than a king.

* Spain: A History in Art by Bradley Smith. 296 pages. Simon & Schuster. $30 ($24.95 before Christmas).