A lusciously perverse view of a backward land - Sorolla: Spanish Master of Light review

National Gallery, London
He was the global face of Spanish art, a quirky and flamboyant painter of a sun-kissed country. But this sensual Spaniard could never paint more than he could see

Luis Buñuel called the first chapter of his autobiography “Growing up in the Middle Ages” because he remembered Spain at the start of the 20th century as a country barely touched by the modern world, dominated by the Catholic church and near-feudal poverty. If you want an eyeful of that archaic Spain, stand in front of Joaquín Sorolla y Bastida’s almost three-metre-wide 1899 canvas, Sad Inheritance.

If you squint your eyes and look only at the turquoise sea rippling into light blue waves, it’s a vivid seascape reminiscent of Manet. The scene on Sorolla’s beach, however, is a far cry from the parasols and picnics of impressionist art. A black-robed monk towers over a crowd of naked disabled boys as they head into the sea for a therapeutic swim. They are the victims of hereditary syphilis, implies the title. Sorolla, an artist of immense style, juxtaposes blue sea, pale bodies and the raven-like priest to truly unsettling effect.

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