The Met is in no hurry to prove whether their Majas on a Balcony is a genuine Francisco Goya or a knockoff by his son Javier.

Since the early-mid 19th century, there have been two versions of this painting floating around: one from the Rothschild family private collection that is definitely an original Goya and another in the Met’s collection that has more mysterious origins. For now, they call it “attributed to Francisco Goya,” but it may never be possible to find out for sure, or perhaps they’re employing the “ignorance is bliss” mentality.

The Met’s painting was first documented in 1835 in the collection of the Infante Sebastian of Portugal and Spain and bounced around for a while before finding a place in the museum’s collection. Those who are against calling it an original Francisco Goya cite the fact that the painting was first seen seven years after his death. For this reason, many people think that it was likely painted by Goya’s far less prestigious son, Javier. But at least they kept it in the family. The fact that it is a duplicate of the Majas on a Balcony from the private collection is another red flag: aside from his commissioned portraits, Goya rarely painted the same thing twice.

On the other side of the spectrum are those who believe that the painting could be, or that it definitely is (gasp) an authentic Goya. Throughout the painting’s long life journey, it was damaged and abrasively cleaned which erased much of the surface detail (painful, I know). Conservators at the Met have tried to make up for this by desperately trying to repair the composition to make it look more like Goya’s work. Another interesting tidbit is that there is no drawing underneath the paint. This means that whoever created the Met’s painting did it very confidently and without sketching anything out first. The plot thickens.

Goya painted these lighthearted Maja scenes on multiple occasions to distract himself from the more somber war scenes that he was creating during Napoleon's invasion of Spain. I’m not at all surprised that he needed a break—Goya painted some really dark stuff (see Saturn Devouring His Son). The balcony, during Goya’s time, was a characteristic feature of Spanish houses and an integral part of their social fabric—you know, for hanging with friends and chilling with extremely creepy shadowy men. Contrary to their lavish adornments and clothing, Majas weren’t particularly wealthy. They were Spanish courtesans and quite friendly ones if that come-hither smile is any indication. The men are probably either clients or pimps.

Majas on a Balcony was very inspirational to a young Edouard Manet when he saw it in Paris. He created a painting called The Balcony with two young women and a leering man hanging over a balcony. Sound familiar? He borrowed Goya’s composition almost exactly.

As far as the debate goes, you can’t really fault the Met for holding out hope; everyone could use a little more Goya in their lives, real or not.