[L A T A U R O M A Q U I A]
e l t o r o i el t r a j e d e l u c e s
Around five o’clock in the morning last April, I stood gawking before the Plaza de Toros de la Maestranza in Seville, Spain. I was quite out of my mind at the time (this I remember well), but the sight left an incredible impression nonetheless. The Plaza is a magnificent structure; the traditional white, red, and gold Spanish façade regally conceals the vast open-air arena reminiscent of gladiatorial grandeur. Indeed, a revered history of bloodshed marks the sand. I didn’t realize it then, in my typical dazed and psychotically fatigued travelling state, but I was marveling at one of the oldest bullrings in Spain. Construction began in 1749 and was completed at last in 1881. It sits today, ever precariously, upon the bold throne of Spanish tradition.
Bullfighting, la tauromaquia, is heralded both as Spain’s most treasured and most controversial tradition: the dramatic public spectacle of a bull’s ritualized slaughter, la corrida. The master of the ring, the matador or torero, is responsible for leading the bull’s sacrifice. He faces the bull on foot, adorned in the customary traje de luces, an elaborate gold embroidered “suit of lights”. To followers of tauromachy, a famous matador is more than a celebrity; he is a hero. His entrance into the arena is greeted with incomparable adulation from the crowd. In the initial phase of the corrida, the matador introduces himself to the bull with a series of basic gestures, brandishing his cape provocatively. The audience’s enthusiasm is expressed with increased fervor the closer the matador dares to approach the bull’s horns. Rivalry is established, the battle is inspired! In the common “Ronda” style, matadors are accompanied by two picadors and three banderilleros, who challenge the bull in stages, intending to injure and exhaust him in preparation for the matador’s final kill. The picadors operate during the second phase of the corrida, mounted on horses, wielding their lances. The bull is pierced about three times, after which a trumpet signals the entrance of the banderilleros. Engaging the bull on foot, they bear colorfully adorned banderillos. These barbed sticks are strategically stabbed into the bull’s shoulders, which forces the bull to lower his head. The trumpet sounds once more, the banderilleros scamper off, and the matador takes over to execute the final phase in the corrida. The “moment of truth”, as they call it, unfolds between man and beast. A frenzy is unleashed within the crowd! The suffering bull is well aware, at this point, where his true nemesis lies: behind the taunting cape. His focus and aggression climax in pursuit of the matador. Consequently, it is during this time that the majority of matador goring takes place. (I’ve seen photos that made my soul squirm…The other patrons at the coffee shop I was occupying were having a hell of a time ignoring my horrified reactions). With his estoque (sword) and muleta (a smaller, more manageable cape reserved for this critical concluding procedure), the matador attempts to guide the estoque between the bull’s horns and into his chest. The placement of the banderillos, having lowered the head, provides the matador with an enormous advantage. Even so, the maneuver requires extraordinary skill and finesse. Upon delivering the fatal thrust into the bull’s chest, if the matador is not gruesomely impaled in the process, he is usually hurtled over the back of the dying bull by its forceful descent. Triumph. La corrida roars to a spirited close…blood blood blood bloooooood…The ears are often cut from the bull’s head and gifted to the matador as a prize for his victorious slaying. Blood. A hero.
Bullfighting derives from ancient customs, despite that the current form of la corrida has only been a part of Spanish culture for about 300 years (haha, only 300 years. Remarkably, the procedure has remained essentially unchanged throughout this time). The earliest record of bull sport was discovered painted on a wall in the Knossos Palace (potentially a necropolis, interestingly enough) of 2000 BC Minoan Crete. This glimpse into the adrenaline junkies of antiquity depicts acrobats grabbing the horns of charging bulls and vaulting over their backs. However, the closest resemblance to the Ronda style practiced today first began to develop in the Iberian Peninsula. When the North African Moors overran Andalusia in AD 711, the Visigoth’s seemingly tactless bull-slaughtering pastimes were transformed into a more masterful ritualistic occasion corresponding with feast days. The Moors originally attacked the bulls from atop highly trained horses, whilst men on foot assisted in positioning the bulls using careful cape maneuvers. The skilled footwork and flourish of the groundlings drew increasingly more attention, and thus inspired the birth of the celebrated matador.
Naturally, tauromaquia is fraught with symbolism. Bulls themselves have long carried heavy symbolic significance. Most often they signify strength, courage, aggression, fertility, and masculinity. When Spain’s organized practice of public bullfighting gained popularity, Catholicism was deeply embedded in the ritualism of the event. In fact, the liturgical calendar was the original basis for the bullfighting calendar. The tauromachy season began with the feast of St. Joseph in Valencia and concluded with the Virgin of Pilar in Zaragoza. Dedication of the bull’s sacrifice went to Holy Mary the Immaculata, whose virginal virtuosity was strikingly contrastive to the bull’s raging aggression and symbolically “indefatigable capacity for copulation” (Biles). A fascinating connection, I’d say… In addition, the initial exchange between matador and bull during the corrida is made through a series cape maneuvers called “Veronicas”, after the biblical woman who offered a cloth to Christ during his crucifixion. (How ironic that the matador offers the cloth, not to comfort, but to murderously provoke). With all of this in mind, anthropologist Julian Pitt-Rivers believes that the significance of Catholicism in Spanish bullfighting gained its form from the pagan traditions of the pre-Christian Roman religion, Mithraism. The central act of worship in Mithraism was the sacrifice of the sacred bull. Pitt-Rivers considers tauromaquia comparable to a Christian “cult of the bull”.
The decline of religious devotion in contemporary Spanish culture has not, however, created a decline in bullfighting fanaticism. Secular symbolism maintains potency in the tradition; courage, ferocity, masculinity, etc. FUrthermore, grace is a particularly essential quality of the practice. A major factor in determining a matador’s skill is based upon the elegance of his movements whilst increasing the suicidal proximity to the horns of the bull. They call this the “dance with death”. Mastery, daring, cunning, control, and beauty are illustrated to prevail in the face of chaotic hostility. In addition, bullfighting is frequently associated symbolically with eroticism. The bullfight is, after all, basically a fertility rite. But sensuality within the ring is also perceived in part through the combination of the bull’s raw virility and the matador’s graceful gestures, further accentuated with luxurious dress. (Very similar to what I detect in wrestling and football—a highly sexual experience for the participants, I suspect. J) Above all, the most devout supporters of bullfighting consider it an art form. In the brutal struggle between the bull and the matador, they identify a profound demonstration of man’s battle against nature, within himself. The bull is honored as a worthy adversary. And in his death, they feel the power of an inescapable condition: the brutality of life and the inevitability of death.
Of course, tremendous objections are now raised against bullfighting. While travelling Spain, I noticed numerous signs of protest in the defense of animal rights. “LA TORTURA NO ES CULTURA” and “TAUROMAQUIA ABALICIÓN” screamed from blood-splattered posters (“torture is not culture”, “abolish bullfighting”). Hundreds of thousands of bulls are slaughtered in the bullfighting industry every year, purchased with money that many suspect is siphoned from agricultural grants given by the European Union. (Throughout the months I was living in mountain farming villages in Spain, I heard plenty of grumbling about the mysterious disappearance of critical maintenance funds). As a rebuttal to issues regarding animal cruelty, supporters of bullfighting mention that fighting bulls are permitted one year longer to live than bulls assigned to the slaughter house. Animal rights supporters don’t seem to give a damn; they still find the slow, miserable murder of animals to be a grotesque entertainment. Bullfighting fans insist that the practice isn’t merely entertainment, but a profound, creative element of their national identity, lending an invaluable richness to Spanish culture. Opposition asserts that placing a drugged bull in an arena for public slaughter is a disgrace to both art and Spanish identity. Many claim that the custom is simply a glorification of violence, driven more by blood thirst and industrial agenda than art. These days, a matador’s salary is equal to a professional sports player or musician. Millionaire matadors are like carnage superstars. Epic. Of course, my vulgar description doesn’t convey the deep, distinguished nobility of a matador’s cultural role. If a parent so desires, they may send their macho nine-year-old boy to a government funded bullfighting school, with the full knowledge that their child may very well meet a horrific end like Manolete’s (famous bullfighter gored to death in the ring. In a twisted sense, this is exactly the goal of any novice matador, considering that Manolete was Spain’s most beloved bullfighter). The matador’s path is an honored peril.
As the societal pendulum swings, the relevance of tradition is subject to mounting scrutiny. The dogmatic sensationalism of bullfighting automatically drags it to the forefront of cultural assessment and reformation. Just as the tauromaquia “convey[s] and ritually enshrine[s] the most cherished values of the society in which it is performed” (Biles), so may its death.
marguerite
