National Gallery shows us a different, brighter Goya

Judging from the shoulder-to-shoulder crowds at the National Gallery, my resolve to slip in to see the Goya exhibit before it closed was a common thought across art lovers in reach of London. The last week of the show, which wrapped today, ran at capacity. It wasn't a great viewing experience, but I'm glad I made the effort. Because most of what I thought I knew about Goya and his world was wrong.

My misconceptions are typical, explained the curator in the introduction within the show's excellent audio guide. Killing them is exactly the point behind Goya: The Portraits.

Goya's most frequently-reproduced paintings are dark, disturbing things. There's The Third of May, 1808, where a Christ-like peasant with haunting eyes compels our attention at the very second a brutal French firing squad takes his life. In Saturn Devouring his Son, a cadaverous man has already consumed the head of the bloody body he holds, and is now working on the arm. The last major Goya show in London focused on his abundant sketches of nightmares and witches. An artist emotionally traumatised by the Peninsular War. Dark, sinister, morose, brooding. That's what I thought of Goya. And I didn't have much desire to see more of him.

But Goya lived for more than 80 years, and in his lifetime he was mainly known as a portraitist. Like Reynolds or Gainsborough in England, though working a generation later, he captured the most dynamic and interesting people of his world with panache and flair. Yes, the portraits were beautiful. Even better, the subjects were compelling. In many cases, downright sexy. And Goya has the skill that only a few portraitists have of including a twinkle in the eye, plus an animation in the face, that gives you the feeling these people will step out of their frames and get down to partying once the paying public departs.

History tells us that Goya was a gregarious and gracious man who liked to spend plenty of time socialising with his subjects. He often became their friends. And, of course, the more friends he made, the more he became a part of the social circle he was depicting. It was a virtuous circle that brought him plenty of business. It also leaves us the legacy of portraits lovingly created by someone who both liked and understood his subjects.

The portraits are at their most magical in the years before Napoleonic troops swept into Spain and triggered the Peninsular Wars. At this height of the Age of Enlightenment, Goya was running with liberal aristocrats dedicated to education and the arts. Who also dressed with exquisite style and seem to have been almost universally good looking.  The Duke of Alba, casually leaning against his piano forte holding the manuscript of the Haydn composition he commissioned, showing off how well he fills out his riding breeches, is a thinking woman's pin-up.  His widow, an assertive and sexy woman in a froth of black lace, has been one of the show's most popular images. In the family portrait of the Duke and Duchess of Osuna, the couple show off their allegiance to the ideas of Rousseau by including their offspring looking like natural, informal children. One of them holding the hand of a clearly doting daddy. Unsurprising to modern eyes, but revolutionary at the time. Years later, one of those children had become the Marchioness of Santa Cruz and trusted Goya ... the family friend she'd known all her life ... to paint her in a daringly sensual recumbent pose channeling the muse of music.

Goya's talent for depicting costume made looking at the clothes almost as much fun as drinking in the personalities. Indeed, a historic costume specialist was one of the experts who made the audio guide so interesting. Detailed embroidery on women's fine muslin wraps. Gold braid and medals on military uniforms. Exquisite details on gentlemen's waistcoats. Ladies' intricate hair styles. Lace, feathers, buttons, jewels. It was dressing up treasure box.

Goya was official court painter for much of his life, both before and after the Napoleonic. The pre-Napoleonic Bourbons weren't particularly effective, but they were clearly genial hunting companions. George IV's hunting dog, gazing adoringly upward, is even better to look at than the king's cheerful face and lavish hunting costume. Look at the portrait of his son and successor, Ferdinand VII, however, and you understand that Goya wasn't a flatterer. This new king's clothes and stance are grand, but the look on his face says "I am a pompous idiot". The relationship between the two, unsurprisingly, did not flourish and Goya spent his final years in France.

Many of the National Gallery's recent shows have been anchored by its own paintings, augmented by works from lots of other British collections. Another delight of this show was the almost complete unfamiliarity with the art. Plenty from the Prado, as you'd expect, but the sources were various and wide. Many came from private collections and others rarely left their home countries. Shows often boast that they're bringing together a rare group of items never shown together before, but it seemed more true than usual here.

Exhibition prices have been going up steadily at all of London's museums ... not surprising given the load they carry for funding government-mandated free entry. I've questioned whether some recent shows were worth the price. Especially when seeing the £18 cost of this one. I'm happy to say it was worth every penny.