On the 123rd death anniversary of Juan Luna, we look into “The Death of Cleopatra,” the work that cemented the Filipino master’s artistic path.

Written by Pio Angelo Ocampo
January 25, 2023

“I am dying, Egypt, dying,”
Let the Caesar’s army come—
I will cheat him of his glory,
Though beyond the Styx I roam;
Shall he drag this beauty with him—
While the crowd his triumph sings?
No, no, never! I will show him
What lies in the blood of Kings.”

– Cleopatra Dying 
by Thomas Stephens Collier (1842-1893)

Opulence was Cleopatra’s choice of weapon, even in death. In the aftermath of the Battle of Actium where the Roman forces crushed her Egyptian army, Cleopatra retreated to Alexandria and had a two-story mausoleum built next to a temple of the winged goddess Isis, the goddess whom she fashioned herself after. Here she remained and was later discovered, pale and lifeless, on a golden couch in all her sensuous eminence and glory.

This Cleopatra witnessed moments after her death was depicted in Juan Luna’s 1881 “The Death of Cleopatra” (La Muerte de Cleopatra), or simply “Cleopatra,” a work that took inspiration from a scene in Plutarch’s Parallel Lives. Lit as if a door was just opened, its mise-en-scène was filled with classical Egyptian elements—towering sculptures faded in shadow, a sphinx by the footboard, patterned silk-like sheets adorned with gold, hieroglyphic inscriptions with a foreshadowing symbol of Anubis, guardian of tombs, etched on the columns. Her female servants are also present. On the floor and in a total state of collapse is Iras, draped in red mahogany, eyes blank and lips white. Faltering by Cleopatra is Charmion—her mid-fall posture with her arms outstretched in parallel with incense smoke. With these elements of gravitas and allure, Luna centers her bejeweled corpse, with the culpable, venomous asp slithering away and barely visible by one of the columns. The painting’s dramatic stylings, befitting the queen descendant of so many kings, became the artistic signature of Luna.

In a report by the Smithsonian, a papyrus from 35 B.C. named Cleopatra ‘Philopatris’ or “she who loves her country.” This potent ideology of the pharaoh’s persona is historically distilled in Juan Luna’s “Cleopatra,” a neoclassical funerary scene made during a time of crescendoing national consciousness in the Philippines, with the Propaganda Movement by the Filipino ilustrados in Madrid at its cusp. Though the ilustrados and its revolutionaries read “Cleopatra” as a representation of a colonized people standing up against their colonizer, to Luna, its immediate impact was surpassing his European contemporaries – gleaning power from “Cleopatra” to be taken seriously for his art – suffusing the personal to the political.

In 1878, Luna’s “Cleopatra” was in its early stages when he began with a study (boceto) modeled after Jean-André Rixens’ 1874 iteration. Luna, taken under the wing of his Spanish master and close friend Alejo Vera during this time, was closely learning the art of the Renaissance painters as he worked in his then-studio on Via Margutta in Rome. The boceto was fully realized in 1880, just in time for the following year’s National Exposition of Fine Arts in Madrid. In this 1881 exposition, he won a silver medal for “Cleopatra,” cementing his career as he received  a pension scholarship from the Ayuntamiento de Manila.

Today, “Cleopatra” is displayed among the 19th-century works adorning the walls of the Museo del Prado in Madrid. As one enters the room it occupies, the work’s grandeur makes the first impression and pulls the spectator to the space it occupies. Portraits of countryside Filipinos – Esteban Villanueva’s “El zacatero” and “India del campo,” with their fixed gaze – confront those who come and take a look at Luna’s “Cleopatra.” As I stood at this corner, I felt a homecoming, as if I’d discovered a letter from a close relative more than a century late. 

Before Juan Luna’s 123rd death anniversary approaches, Art+ talked to Javier Barón – Museo del Prado’s senior curator for 19th-century painting – about the histories surrounding Luna’s seminal work.

Art+: When was Cleopatra by Juan Luna officially acquired by the Museo del Prado, and what is its history in terms of provenance? What other paintings of his remain in Madrid?

Javier: Cleopatra was acquired in 1881 directly from the artist for 5000 pesetas. The painting had taken part in the 1881 National Exhibition of Fine Arts in Madrid. There, it was awarded a Medal of Second Class. In 1900, the painting was deposited in the Spanish Embassy in London. It returned to Madrid in 1929. In 1930, it was deposited in the Capitanía General of Seville until 2004. There are several paintings in Spanish collections, but this one and “España llevando a la gloria a Filipinas” (Museo del Prado, deposited in Cádiz, the Town Council) are the most important, together with “Battle of Lepanto,” 7 October 1571, commissioned by the Senate (Madrid, Palace of Senate.).

Art+: Who are some notable Spanish contemporaries (relevant painters, critics, etc.) of Juan Luna?

Javier: The painting of Juan Luna was related to some principal Spanish artists of his time, amongst them, the already deceased Eduardo Rosales (1836-1873), one of the most influential painters during the following decade. Rosales’s friend, Alejo Vera, was his principal master and Casto Plasencia was also a reference for him. 

Art+: How would you describe the art scene of Madrid from the final quarter of the 19th century?

Javier: In the final quarter of the century, History Painting was still frequented in Spain by the principal artists. By 1890, it was substituted by Social Painting. Joaquín Sorolla was outstanding in this genre, as well in the luminist approaches of beach scenes. Landscape was also cultivated by the most modern artists such as Darío de Regoyos and Aureliano de Beruete. 

Art+: What were the curatorial choices made on how Cleopatra was positioned in the sala? In your opinion, what does Cleopatra depict and represent? 

Javier: The new (2021) display of the Nineteenth-century rooms in the Prado pointed out the work of some artists and areas which were relevant even though they were not included in the main trend of the art of his time. This is the case of Spanish artists who were born in the Philippines, such as Juan Luna Novicio, who completed his artistic training in Madrid and Rome (where he painted “Cleopatra”), or Esteban Villanueva Vinarao, who also visited Spain and painted in 1875 six “Philippine types,” two of them are now exhibited in the same room. 

On the other hand, “Cleopatra” is exhibited close to other orientalist paintings by Eduardo Simonet (“Flevit super illam”) and Antonio Fabrés (“The Slave”). In fact, the room is dedicated to different genres frequented by painters during the last decades of the century, such as orientalism, social painting, and still life painting (especially cultivated by women artists).

About the author:
Pio Angelo Ocampo is an arts practitioner currently based in Madrid, Spain.