When you stand before a painting by Francisco Goya, it's not just your mind that reacts—it’s your heart.
The blood. The screams. The silence.
It’s more than just a piece of art; it feels like a witness testifying to something dark and painful.
One of Goya’s most powerful works is "May 3, 1808 in Madrid."
In this painting, a man stands before a firing squad.
He's dressed in a white shirt, arms raised in surrender, eyes wide with terror.
He's about to die.
Around him, civilians lie on the ground in terror, while soldiers—whose faces are erased—point their rifles at the crowd.
The soldiers aren’t individuals; they are violence itself.
This is no romanticized scene. This is a real event, the massacre of innocent citizens by Napoleon’s forces in Madrid.
And in this powerful moment, Goya doesn’t just record the event. He condemns it.
It’s more than history—it’s an indictment.
With this work, Goya seems to say, “We must not forget. We must not repeat this.”
From Court Painter to Truth-Teller
Interestingly, Goya didn’t start as a painter of suffering and violence.
He began as a court artist, creating regal portraits and murals of Spanish royalty. His "The Family of Carlos IV" is one of the most famous examples.
But if you look closely at these paintings, you’ll notice something odd.
The noblemen are dressed in lavish clothes, but their expressions? Awkward. Their postures? Uncomfortable.
It’s almost as if Goya is mocking their wealth and pretense, subtly exposing their flaws and the hollowness of the aristocracy.
Despite being a court painter, Goya was always more than just an artist for the elite. He was an observer, deeply aware of the world around him—its darkness, its suffering, its inequality.
At some point, he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He stopped painting only the beautiful and began focusing on the ugly truths.
The Soundless Painter
In his 40s, tragedy struck Goya.
At age 46, he lost his hearing.
In a world suddenly devoid of sound, he became more isolated, more withdrawn. And this isolation seeped into his work.
In his later years, Goya painted not on canvas, but directly on the walls of his house.
This became his Black Paintings series.
Works like "Saturn Devouring His Son," "The Dog," and "The Witches" are nightmarish visions.
Darkness, distortion, terror—his figures twist in agony, set against oppressive, eerie backdrops.
It’s a world without light, a world without hope.
Goya’s loss of hearing made him even more attuned to the chaos around him. He didn’t hear the world fall apart—he painted it.
And in doing so, he opened the door to modern art, laying the foundation for movements like expressionism and surrealism.
Goya’s Legacy: The Uncomfortable Truth
Though Goya lived in the 18th and 19th centuries, his work had a profound influence on later art movements.
His paintings laid bare the raw, uncomfortable truths of the human condition.
In a way, Goya was one of the first to show that art could do more than just please the eye—it could speak uncomfortable truths.
Today, Goya’s masterpieces are housed in the Prado Museum in Madrid, Spain.
On the first floor, you’ll find "May 3, 1808."
And the Black Paintings are housed in the basement, where you can experience the terrifying, profound world Goya painted in his final years.
As you stand in front of his work, it’s hard not to feel like Goya is speaking directly to you.
“I painted the light of mankind,” he seems to say, “but more importantly, I never turned away from the darkness.”
Goya’s art shows us that, sometimes, the most powerful truth is the one we’re most uncomfortable facing.
And long before it was fashionable to tell uncomfortable truths, Goya was already doing it, boldly, on canvas.