According to published accounts, the work was identified through a Catalan auction house in 2022, after which it was acquired by Citibanamex; the National Bank of Mexico. In 2023, it became a central work in the exhibition "Yo, Maria Guadalupe, pintora, vuelvo a casa" ("I, Maria Guadalupe, a painter, am returning home"), held at Foro Valparaiso in Mexico City. The exhibition connected the painting with the historic palace where Moncada had spent part of her childhood.
For the bulk of history, the art world operated exactly like every other male dominated profession, functioning as a closed institutional network designed to systematically exclude women. Unlike its modern day perception as a progressive sanctuary for liberal expression, back then it mirrored the legal, economic and social restrictions of other domains like medicine, law and politics. Over the past century, a series of institutional breakthroughs have occurred that have dismantled these systematic barriers faced by women historically. This was not an overnight development, its groundwork was laid from the early 19th century through exceptional nuances. In the late 18th century Mexico, the art field was strictly governed by male guilds and rigid societal expectations and norms. Art was viewed as trade and the public sphere was explicitly barred to women, however Maria Guadalupe Moncada y Berrio possessed an asset that trumped her predisposition as a woman; her extreme aristocratic privilege. As the daughter of the Marquis of Jaral de Berrio (one of the wealthiest noble titles in New Spain), she had access to private tutors, extensive libraries and fine imported pigments that were completely out of reach for ordinary women. This nobility allowed her to present her art not as a low class 'trade' or source of income, but as an elevated, intellectual hobby suitable for a high society lady. Her marriage to the Spanish nobleman Francisco Fernandez de Cordoba y Zayas (who was highly influential and later involved with the government) gave her direct access to the directors of the newly opened Academy of San Carlos. This meant that her artworks would remain securely documented, even after external forces attempted to get rid of her historicity. Maria Guadalupe Moncada in the above painting, presents herself as the central subject. The palette and brushes visible in her hands function as important indicators of her artistic identity as Maria chooses to associate herself with the practice of painting rather than her social status. She also asserts her identity as a professional practitioner by explicitly signing her name on a painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe in 1798 CE. This act shattered the rule which forbade women from signing artworks and usually, their work was frequently absorbed into the workshops of their fathers, brothers, husbands or attributed male peers to fetch higher market prices. The composition is quiet concentrated in order to draw attention on the artist's figure. The soft brushwork and tonal gradations are noteworthy in this artwork, as these qualities caused analytics and experts to attribute the painting to the Spanish master Francisco de Goya for decades. Though the portrayal focuses on her representation as a practitioner, her identity as an aristocrat has not been concealed, it is clearly detectible through her clothing and stiff demeanor. Hence the artwork is extremely significant as it serves as a visual and literary record (referring to the painter's signature) of the identity of Maria Guadalupe Moncada as the first documented female painter of Mexico. Male critics of her time tried to diminish her historic institutional title by claiming it was merely a political favor to her husband but it was her undeniable technical mastery backed by her family's massive influence that forced the academy to officially recognise a woman for the very first time.
MarÃa Guadalupe de Moncada y Berrio’s Self-Portrait is more than an image of a woman; it is a quiet declaration of artistic identity. She presents herself holding a palette and brush, looking directly and calmly toward the viewer. Contemporary accounts of the work emphasize this deliberate presentation of herself as a painter, while noting that the portrait is attributed to her because the visible version does not preserve a signature.
What makes the painting particularly striking is its restraint. There is no grand theatrical gesture: her modest expression, elegant clothing, and composed posture communicate confidence without ostentation. The sculpture visible behind her further evokes the intellectual and artistic education associated with her status and interests.
To me, the portrait represents the claiming of a self beyond social identity. She was an aristocrat, but here she chooses to be seen first through her creative vocation. The palette and brush become symbols of agency—the tools through which she could define how she wished to be remembered. Her direct gaze seems almost to cross centuries, quietly asserting that artistic ambition belongs to the individual who possesses it, regardless of the expectations surrounding her.
