Opinion | “Where’s Goya?” I asked. “Chilling” PWC replied. How A California Wine Company Has Glamorized Torment

The Prisoner Wine Company has effectively decontextualized and purposefully misinterpreted Goya’s “Disasters of War” series to ensure a more enjoyable experience.?

By: Francisco de Borja Herraiz Garcia de Guadiana

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Hoping to avoid the bitter imbalance that occurs when wine is inadequately paired, I found myself browsing around my local wine and spirits store. Little did I know, however, that a uniquely bitter taste would take hold well before I was able to open the bottle.?

There, under California wines, Francisco de Goya y Lucientes’s graphic imagination caught my attention. Sandwiched between colorfully mundane labels, Goya’s tormented, restrained and blindfolded subject is impossible to ignore. Saddened by the figure’s disposition and angered by it being used as a prop, I set out to understand why, why would a California wine company choose to label their product using imagery from Goya’s “Disasters of War” print series?

Hailing from Napa Valley, the Prisoner Wine Company’s (PWC) wine blend unsurprisingly called Blindfold is identified as the culprit. First finding success in 2000, the PWC has since grown to become one of the most successful wine producers in the country, appearing on Wine Spectator’s Top 100 list on several occasions.

I was shocked to find that, despite their success and consequent media coverage, PWC’s labels, including that adhered to the Blindfold blend, have never been criticized. In fact, it has been quite the opposite. Their labels have been described by media outlets as distinctive, seductive, unconventional, quirky, edgy, and even going as far as inducting one of the labels into the “Wine Label Hall of Fame.”?

It all started with a gift wine producer Dave Phinney received when he was twelve, a poster featuring Goya’s, “The small prisoner.” Decades later it would be used as the label for Phinney’s red blend debut, The Prisoner. Erroneously associated with the “Disasters of War,” this print, along with two others, differs in style and size from those produced as part of the “Disasters of War” series. This three-print series is referred to simply as “The Prisoners” and the subjects included are said to be either common criminals or madmen going mad in their cells. After finding runaway success with The Prisoner blend, a feat accomplished thanks to not only Phinney’s ability to create a grade-A product, but also to Goya’s marketability, I presume PWC thought: if it worked with The Prisoner, why wouldn't it work with Blindfold?

I wish PWC would reconsider their using of “The Prisoners” as a marketing ploy, however, when it comes to Blindfold and the “Disasters of War” (specifically, print 15 titled, “And there is no help”) I do not wish, I demand.?

It is undeniable that Goya was an imaginative artist as many of his best known works contain the mythical, the magical, and the dreamlike. Therefore, it is easy to think of Goya as a largely fictional painter and printmaker. However, where “Disasters of War” is concerned one must tread carefully as history itself, rather than mere metaphor, bleeds into many of the prints.

Produced between 1810 and 1820, the eighty-two print series depicts the travesties witnessed over the course of the Peninsular War, a conflict in which Spain struggled for independence from Napoleon-led France. Living in Madrid at the time, Goya witnessed the French occupation and the resulting rebellion on May 2, 1808. This revolt gave way to Goya’s most famous work across his entire oeuvre, “The Third of May in Madrid”. Produced at the end of the war in 1814, the piece depicts members of the Spanish resistance as they are rounded up by French soldiers and executed.

As a Spaniard myself, a deep sense of empathy gushes out of me when I am looking into the central figure’s eyes. Despite the hopelessness of the overall composition the central figure suggests, to me at least, that while the battle is lost, there is still much to do and —perhaps more importantly—a will to see it through. I must admit, I sometimes stare and before too long I catch myself imitating the figure’s stance: a powerful feeling.?

Conversely, seeing a similar subject, confronting the same fate, blindfolded, on the label of a California wine is disheartening at best. You may be thinking, Blindfold isn't the same at all, while it isn't flattering it certainly doesn’t come close to “The Third of May in Madrid”. You'd be wrong.?

Herein lies the worst of it, PWC’s label is not a Goya composition, rather a detail of a Goya composition. Unlike the label used for The Prisoner, Blindfold doesn't include the full composition as part of the label. Instead, PWC cropped, photoshopped, and colored the original composition to best fit their consumer profile; lord forbid the full frame shrink their target market. Effectively going beyond mere decontextualization and entering grounds of purposeful misinterpretation.?

Unlike Blindfold, “And there is no help” depicts three Spanish captives tied to posts. Framed by two corpses. The one on the right is positioned awkwardly: arms and legs twisted every which way, presumably manhandled by the French posthumously to make room for the next inmate. Adding violence and gore to the scene, these corpses also allude to the inexorable nature of the mens’ fates. There is no escaping death as it is before you and behind you. Moreover, the central figure —the hero of the composition—stands, head downcast, beaten and ready to assume the inevitable.

Suddenly.?

As if out thin air, three muskets appear on the top right corner of the composition. Remembering a lesson I learned very young while living in Australia: It is never the crocodiles you see, but the ones you don’t that you must be wary of. Likewise, Goya plays with the audience’s assumptions of the composition and reminds us to consider what isn't immediately apparent. The muskets are aimed and ready to fire. Our hero is about to die. Depriving us of color, Goya grants no respite. We are forced to watch.?

Goya intends to keep the viewer there, in that split second that divides everything from nothing, light from dark, life from death. The audience is left standing tiptoed on the edge of a knife waiting for those muskets to go off at any moment. So poignant is “And there is no help” along with the other eighty-one prints that the series wasn't even published during Goya’s lifetime due to its “pronounced indictment of war”.?

So to take such a powerful image, cut it up, make it [insert marketing awesomeness], and slap it on a bottle of wine is to not only disrespect what the artist intended as well as the artist’s lived experience, but also to blatantly disregard the atrocities that took place and the lives lost.?

You may consider the following: Isn’t it better to have it as it is over the original??

No. And the reason for this is the same as the reason for asking, because it is such a disturbing scene. I’m certain I would not enjoy my glass of wine if I was confronted with such savagery. Yet, while I’d rather they not use these examples at all, I’d still choose the unedited frame over this comfortable distortion the PWC cooked up.?

Had the full frame been included on the label, the consumer would digest it as a story,?sparking questions like, Who made this? When? Who are the restrained men? Why are they being shot? By who? In other words, a full composition inspires in the viewer what I have come to call, productive curiosity: a poignant, thoughtful, and interesting line of questioning between viewer and object. Due to their vagueness, details —unlike full compositions— do not inspire this behavior. Merely a comment, verbal reaction, or moment of brief fascination.?

If you do not agree, I challenge you to think of your favorite piece of art across any period and medium and ask yourself, if you took a piece of it how would the remaining object compare? For example:

Not only are you left with an utterly incomplete composition, but also the meaning of the piece changes dramatically. To me, even if you filled this blank space with a believable background, this is no longer the “pronounced indictment of war” it was before. By removing our hero from the environment he is no longer a hero. He is a blindfolded man bound to a wooden pole. A myriad of possibilities now exist for this man’s disposition. Goya’s subject becomes a lost, weightless, meaningless detail in the mind of the viewer. Unless —of course— you go to PWC’s website, where our hero is laid to rest as a flavor metaphor:?

“They thought if he couldn’t see the world, then he wouldn’t make his mark. But a blindfold won’t hold him back. It just heightens his other senses. And whether they like it or not, his resilience will leave a lasting impression.”

If this little piece of marketing excitement doesn't put the cherry on top for the argument of decontextualization and purposeful misinterpretation, I fear nothing will.?

While I am not concerned with mere credit, PWC couldn’t do more any more harm by adding Goya’s name and print title (perhaps even a QR code) to the label and website. That way consumers may be able to garner a better understanding of the story contained within, including its serious and sensitive nature.?

Unfortunately, PWC is not the only, nor the first, nor the last company to use art irresponsibly, and this has to do with knowledge. In this day and age, it is significantly challenging to keep track of where images are sourced, thus relying on institutions, i.e., museums, galleries, institutes, etc., for information is good practice. These specialized spaces are often lead by professionals in the field who understand and acknowledge the meaning behind the objects they house. El Prado Museum in Madrid, Spain, for example, does in fact sell items in their gift shop that are decorated using Goya prints. The difference between El Prado and PWC is that the former’s business plan includes the dissemination of knowledge, while the latter stresses a good blend and number of crates sold.?

Decisions regarding labels are made due to the unique power these have over the consumer; the consumer picks this wine over the competitor’s. In contrast, when a museum visitor enters the gift shop, after spending time exploring the stories adorning the dim lit gallery walls, they pick one item over the one next to it because it’s the story that struck them the most. They make a decision powered by knowledge not superficial theatrics.?

So I challenge you, when you see an image, question it. Seek to drive your visual literacy to its very limits.?