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At a small exhibit at the Historical Museum of Crete, a visiting artist gazes at an early religious painting by El Greco.

"The Baptism of Christ" is a vividly colored, two-dimensional, egg tempera-on-panel work from the second half of the 16th century. But it already showed hints of the style that would later make him one of the Western world's most famous painters.

Sophia Vorontzova, a Russian artist now living in Germany, calls it his "signature in art."

"These longer forms, the colors, and for that time, for his time, I think it is very extraordinary," she says, pointing around the two-room exhibit. "You feel like El Greco was so interested in [telling a] story no one else saw."

The painter had mixed fortunes in life, but his works are being celebrated this year in Crete and in Spain on the 400th anniversary of his death.

El Greco was born Domenikos Theotokopoulos in Crete in 1541, and information about his early life is sketchy at best. What is known is based on a few documents and three Byzantine icons he painted, says Nicos Hadjinicolaou, an art historian and professor emeritus at the University of Crete who has written several books and studies on El Greco.

Hadjinicolaou says the evidence shows Theotokopoulos was already an established icon painter in his early 20s.

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The Baptism of Christ by Domenikos Theotokopoulos, commonly known as El Greco is displayed at Christies auctioneers in London in 2004. Ian Waldie/Getty Images hide caption

itoggle caption Ian Waldie/Getty Images

The Baptism of Christ by Domenikos Theotokopoulos, commonly known as El Greco is displayed at Christies auctioneers in London in 2004.

Ian Waldie/Getty Images

"We know that in 1563, he was a master, he had the title of a master, which means that he had a workshop, which means he had people working for him," he says.

Hadjinicolaou says there's also evidence that Theotokopoulos was married and perhaps even had children.

But because so little can be verified about the artist's life on Crete, the Greeks have gotten a little creative with it. The 2007 film El Greco, for instance, depicts him as a melodramatic young genius from a politically rebellious family who dance like warriors at funerals. (More galling for El Greco aficionados is the film's claim that he was persecuted during the Spanish Inquisition, something that never happened.)

Claims to El Greco

In northern Crete, a village of orange farmers called Fodele claims it is the painter's birthplace, even though a court document shows that he stated he was born in the city of Candia (modern-day Iraklion) about 17 miles away.

Village president Yiannis Fakoukais says Spanish academics declared Fodele as the painter's birthplace a century ago. Fakoukakis says Theotokopoulos even has descendants in Fodele.

"This is what generations of people here have lived and died knowing," he says. "People talk about us, books are written about us, and why should some document erase that?"

Each year, Fodele attracts busloads of tourists who visit a small museum that villagers claim is the painter's childhood home. The humble stone house, restored with money from the Greek government, is decorated with copies of his works and yellowed newspaper clippings of villagers declaring their relation to him.

The village also has a cafe called Domenicos and a taverna called El Greco. Even Maria Thanasa's olive-oil products shop profits from the association.

"Of course Domenikos Theotokopoulos helps us economically," she says. "Because we have tourists. And the restaurants work, the cafes work, even the women who make macrame work."

Hadjinicolaou, the art historian, says the fuss is more about Greek identity than El Greco himself.

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Cafe Domenico in Fodele, Greece, which claims to be El Greco's hometown, though documents suggest he was born in another town nearby. Joanna Kakissis for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Joanna Kakissis for NPR

Cafe Domenico in Fodele, Greece, which claims to be El Greco's hometown, though documents suggest he was born in another town nearby.

Joanna Kakissis for NPR

"Partly the interest is founded in Greek nationalism," he says. "Because this fellow came from here, because he is Greek, there is an additional kind of pride which has nothing to do with recognition of his art."

El Greco Leaves Home

Theotokopoulos left Crete sometime around 1567, departing for Italy, where he spent the next decade experimenting with his artistic style. He then moved to Spain, where he made his home.

"During his lifetime he was called either Domeniko Greco — Greco is Italian, Domeniko Spanish — in official documents in contracts, or, occasionally, Domeniko Theotokopouli, Griego," Hatzinikolaou says. "Then everyone got to know him as El Greco."

Greeks recognize the artist is famous for the work he did in Spain, not Greece. But Hatzinikolaou says they revel in the fact that he never lost his roots.

He always signed his paintings Domenikos Theotokopoulous, "down to the very end, with Greek characters."

Though his works were signed in Greek, El Greco painted them in the Spanish Renaissance style he helped invent.

El Greco's adopted Spanish hometown, Toledo, has held several exhibitions of his work this year. His works have been transported from museums all over the world, coming together in Toledo en masse for the first time since the artist's death.

A video about this year's 400th anniversary greets arrivals at the town's train station. But in the city center, many draw a blank at the name Domenikos Theotokopoulos.

"No idea! Who is that?" says Spanish tourist Angela Fernandez, visiting Toledo from nearby Madrid.

But American tourist Ann Thompson perks up when asked if she knows who Domenikos Theotokopoulos is.

"I do! It's El Greco!" she says. "And I know because my family is from Crete."

Squabbles with Spain's King

El Greco came to Spain to become rich and famous, says his biographer Fernando Maras, author of El Greco: Life and Work and El Greco of Toledo.

"He was very ambitious," says Maras, who also curated one of this year's exhibitions in Toledo. "He tried to raise his status. He thought Spain was a country or a land where his skills would be appreciated, and that he was going to make a much better living."

El Greco's first commission in Spain was an altarpiece for King Philip II, "The Disrobing of Christ," which the king wanted to hang in a monastery north of Madrid, in El Escorial. But El Greco was a perfectionist. He complained about the paint colors he was given, and his fee. Was the king impressed?

"No!" says Maras. "He didn't like it. The relation with El Greco was hard, to say it in a word. The king was angry. Because we know that he had to write a letter, 'Well, there is this Greek who is complaining!' So let's just say it was not the best way to address the king."

King Philip II held a grudge. He never hung El Greco's "The Disrobing of Christ" in his El Escorial monastery. Instead, it now hangs in Toledo's Cathedral.

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View of medieval bridge in Toledo, Spain, where El Greco once lived and painted. Lauren Frayer for NPR hide caption

itoggle caption Lauren Frayer for NPR

View of medieval bridge in Toledo, Spain, where El Greco once lived and painted.

Lauren Frayer for NPR

El Greco Arrives in Toledo — and Falls in Love

Out of favor with Spain's royals in Madrid, El Greco moved 40 miles south to Toledo. It had the country's biggest cathedral, and a demand for religious art. It's here that El Greco developed his signature style: eerie, elongated figures of saints, in lurid colors, against stormy Toledo skies.

It was in Toledo that El Greco also found love — perhaps for a second time. He had a relationship with a woman identified in some court documents as Jeronima de las Cuevas, but he never married her. Urban legend in Toledo says Jeronima was a prostitute, or a nun — and thus El Greco couldn't marry her. But Maras, his biographer, says it's more likely because he was already married in Greece.

"He was trying not to rouse suspicion. That's probably the reason he didn't marry the mother of his son," Maras says. "He probably was married in Crete. If he had married for a second time in Spain, he could have been labeled a bigamist and persecuted by the Spanish Inquisition."

El Greco had a son with Jeronima. At age 8, the boy, named Jorge Manuel Theotokopoulos, went to work in his father's workshop. He had some of El Greco's talent for painting, but was a better architect. He helped design some municipal buildings in Toledo, and the cathedral's cupola — which still stand today.

Always an Outsider

The Catholic Church didn't know what to make of El Greco. He was a foreigner, and not a Catholic. He'd fallen out with the king. But nobles bought his work.

El Greco got rich, and then overspent, says Inma Sanchez, an art historian and tour guide in Toledo.

"He was trying to live as a nobleman, at a moment that being a nobleman meant to dress with very expensive clothes, to rent some rooms in a palace," Sanchez says. "So he was living a life that was over his possibilities."

El Greco died in Toledo loaded with debts. He was always an outsider. He never learned Spanish. Sanchez gazes at his grave inside a medieval convent in Toledo, still run by nuns.

"Can you see that little coffin in there?" she says. "Well, this is all we have. And of course the dust inside. That's all."

Almost Forgotten

El Greco was almost forgotten until a little more than 100 years ago, when painters like Cezanne, Picasso and Jackson Pollack rediscovered him. They spotted something very modern in his work, some 300 years before Abstract Expressionism. Now El Greco has become one of the West's most popular painters.

If the artist only knew, Sanchez says.

"I always wonder, I ask myself, can you imagine if I could whisper in the ear of El Greco — '400 years later, we're going to do a monographic exhibition just to remember you, in this place, with paintings from all around the world,'" Sanchez says. "He succeeded! He got what he was really looking for — the fame, and to be remembered."

Supermarkets are taking turkey orders; the tins of Christmas cookies beckon from display tables. These and other signs are unmistakable: The holiday feasting season is quickly approaching.

If you're like us, the prospect of cooking for a group — or contributing a dish to the holiday meal — this time of year can cause some anxiety.

The Salt

Why We Hold Tight To Our Family's Holiday Food Traditions

How do you ensure equal access to the highly coveted oven on Turkey Day when you have multiple cooks in the kitchen, and multiple dishes to prepare? What can you bring to the repast that won't go gooey, dry out or crumble before you arrive at your host's house? How do you accommodate the newly minted vegans in the family?

NPR is planning our holiday food coverage, and we would love to know what you would find useful. What sorts of tips and tricks would make your holiday more enjoyable? Fill out our survey by midnight EST on Thursday, Nov. 6.

We'd also love to hear about your ah-ha moments: Is there a hack, technique or shortcut you figured out in years past that changed the way you do things? Tell us your story in the comment section below.

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On the consequences of digital locks

In 1998, we passed this law called the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, the DMCA, and what it says is that it is against the law to remove a lock even if you own the copyright to the work the copyright is protecting. So one of the publishers right now has said they've always insisted on digital locks on their e-books, and they're in a pricing dispute with Amazon who wants to take more of the money that they are generating through their books.

Under normal circumstances, if Amazon decided not to sell Hachette's books, you would expect Hachette to say to all the people who want to read J.K Rowling or Amanda Palmer's new book, "Here's a tool that lets you convert your e-books to run on iBooks or on Google Play or on Kobo or on Nook. Go ahead and just switch to someone else's store, and buy your books there." But because only Amazon is allowed to unlock Hachette's books, even though Hachette controls the copyright, Amazon controls the lock. Amazon now runs that negotiation. They have all the negotiating leverage, and what happens is the rightful share of the investor is expropriated by the platform.

On digital copyright law reform

We can easily see how you would make a digital locks rule that didn't do this crazy thing. What you would say is that "it's against the law to break a digital lock if you're violating copyright, and if you're not violating copyright, it's not against the law to break a digital lock." And that would solve the problem pretty handily because then we could make tools that let people do things that are illegal, but that the manufacturer doesn't want them to do, which is a time-honored tradition whether that's plugging things into your cigarette lighter in the car that the manufacturer never intended for you to do or using your blender to mix paint. You know what we do with our stuff is our own business, and if we break the law then maybe we get punished, but just using a product in an unintended way shouldn't be a felony.

All Tech Considered

Sci-Fi's Cory Doctorow Separates Self-Publishing Fact From Fiction

Book Reviews

You Don't Have To Be A 'Nerd,' But It Helps

On new models of monetizing online content

Once we give up on the idea of applying copyright to normal people and we limit it to the industry, we know how to regulate the industry because we know where they all live. Historically, the way we have managed contexts in which it no longer became possible to control individual uses was to just let people pay once to use everything and then use statistical analysis to figure out who the money went to. So if you're at a radio station, you drop the needle, you don't call the record label to find out how much it's gonna cost you to play a song. You just pay a single fee, and then you figure out statistically at the end of the quarter whose music was played, and the money is dispersed that way. And the important thing is [that] as imperfect as this solution is, it's way more perfect than adding censorship and surveillance to the Internet in the name of making sure that people listen to music the right way.

Read an excerpt of Information Doesn't Want to Be Free

Digital Millennium Copyright Act

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Internet piracy

In the latest bids for states to compel companies to label foods that contain genetically modified ingredients, Colorado voters decided the issue in their state today.

Proposition 105, was defeated by a roughly 2-1 margin Tuesday.

Oregon voters also considered a measure, but it is still too close to call — the no vote leading the yes vote by two percentage points with more than 80 percent of the vote counted.

The issue has been both contentious and expensive. Last week, Oregon Live reported:

"The measure has already made history, becoming the costliest ballot measure fight in Oregon history. Opponents have raised just over $16 million — also a record for one side — and backers have raised nearly $7 million."

While more than half of U.S. states have contemplated similar GMO legislation, the only one that has come close to requiring a label is Vermont. The state's law, approved this year, still faces legal challenges, and it's not slated to take effect until 2016.

In Hawaii, Maui County voters considered an initiative that went far beyond labeling. By a slim margin, voters decided to temporarily ban genetically engineered crops.

"The county's first-ever ballot initiative targeting global agriculture companies Monsanto and Dow AgroSciences attracted nearly $8 million from opponents," Honolulu Civil Beat reports, "making it the most expensive campaign in Hawaii's history."

That the expense equates to "more than $75 per registered voter in Maui County, which has a population of just around 160,000."

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