In 1817, the city of Seville commissioned Francisco de Goya to paint its patron saints, Justa and Rufina, for the cathedral—a rare instance where the fiercely independent Goya accepted a religious commission late in his career. The choice was no accident: Seville credited the two sisters with miraculously saving the Giralda tower during the catastrophic earthquake of 1504. Goya, already a celebrated court painter, was tasked with honoring the city’s protectors at a time when Spain was still reeling from Napoleonic occupation and religious imagery was a rallying point for civic pride. At the center of SS.

Justa and Rufina, the two young women stand side by side, their gazes calm yet steadfast. Goya chooses the moment after their defiance: having refused to worship pagan idols, they hold aloft the clay pots that were both their livelihood and the symbol of their martyrdom. The Giralda tower, rendered in miniature at their feet, anchors the composition and alludes to their legendary protection of Seville.

The sisters’ intertwined hands and the broken pottery at their feet speak both to their unity and the violence of their fate. Unlike earlier depictions, such as Murillo’s gentle, almost cherubic saints, Goya’s figures possess a psychological gravity—his signature brushwork lending them a sense of real, lived suffering. The painting’s later history is less dramatic than its subject. After its installation in Seville Cathedral, SS.

Justa and Rufina remained largely in situ, admired by local clergy and pilgrims rather than the wider art world. It stands as one of Goya’s last major religious works, created just before his exile to Bordeaux. The commission marks a late-career return to public, ecclesiastical art, contrasting with the private, often tormented works of his later years.

Today, the painting remains in Seville, a testament to both the city’s enduring devotion and Goya’s ability to infuse even traditional subjects with psychological depth.