Maya by Hiroshi Furuyoshi
Oil on panel
12.75 x 10.25 inches
Hiroshi Furuyoshi’s Maya presents a young girl with a cello standing before an illustrious fifteenth-century tapestry. Based on some of the figures in the background, the work can be identified as The Fall of Tangier, one of the four Pastrana Tapestries commissioned by King Afonso V of Portugal in 1471. The tapestries depict the Portuguese conquest of several major cities in Morocco as part of their expansion into North Africa. The Portuguese would rule the city of Tangier for nearly two centuries after the tapestries’ creation. The king’s court painter, Nuno Gonçalves, designed the tapestries, while the finished product was created in the weaving workshops of Belgium. The Fall of Tangier depicts the city itself at the center, with two groups of figures positioned on either side. On the left is the invading Portuguese army. Meanwhile, on the right, the city’s residents are shown fleeing. This is consistent with the historical record, as when the Portuguese army drew closer to Tangier, many of the inhabitants fled. Asilah, another city conquered by the Portuguese, had had many of its residents killed or sold into slavery. The people of Tangier refused to meet the same fate.
The use of the Pastrana Tapestries as the background for this elegant, placid work creates a slightly jarring disconnect. The main subject is a girl looking out at the viewer, stoically holding a cello, evoking the beauty of the music the instrument provides. However, all that is set against a work of military art showing the violent conquest of entire cities by an invading army, the killing of civilians, and the enslavement of many more. It’s almost as if Furuyoshi is making a sort of statement about the importance of understanding context. Without the additional information, the background may seem like another tapestry you can see at the Met Cloisters. But once you learn about the atrocities it celebrates, you can never look at it the same again. This painting challenges us to confront the uncomfortable truth that some of the beautiful things we enjoy are often a product of centuries of violence and exploitation. And just like Maya, we sometimes feel compelled to turn our backs to it.