wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
Beneath a pitch-dark sky, bizarre and terrifying magic spells are being cast. Monstrous figures, some of them naked, are arranged as if on a stage set, illuminated by scattered pools of light. This macabre scene evokes a witches' sabbath, a gathering where the devil was worshipped.

At the centre of this ghastly image, a witch smokes the corpse of a criminal that hangs from a withered tree, while a hooded figure cuts its toenails. Seated in front of them on a block of stone, another witch holds a mirror and toys with a small wax effigy. A catalogue of magical aids surrounds the naked figure slumped on ground who squeezes blood out of a rag, or possibly a human organ, and into a cauldron. Nearby, a man in armour bends over a white hare burning inside a magic circle. He is accompanied by two other men: one holds up a broom, the other has a sword upon which a human heart is impaled.

On the left, two ghoulish figures exhume a skeleton and force it to sign a document: this was a form of necromancy, the practice of communicating with the dead. A veiled figure wearing a garland performs a mysterious ceremony behind them. On the right, demonic creatures emerge from the shadows. A giant amphibian-like beast with gaping jaws and bones for arms is ridden by a woman in a yellow turban, while a skeletal bird with a sharp beak looms over the swaddled infant held aloft by a screaming witch. She is seemingly about to sacrifice the child to the monster below.

During the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, it was still common for people to be accused of and executed for supposed acts of witchcraft and sorcery. Salvator Rosa settled in Florence in 1640, where he developed an avid interest in the supernatural and became part of a group of intellectuals, actors, scientists and artists who shared his fascination with the occult. There are clear parallels between this picture and Rosa's own satirical poem, La Strega ('The Witch'), which tells of a spurned lover seeking revenge through sorcery. Rosa was a close friend of the Florentine painter poet Lorenzo Lippi, who encouraged his love of the macabre. Both were inspired by the prints of Northern artists such as Hans Baldung and Albrecht Dürer, who also explored themes of witchcraft.

Rosa probably painted this remarkable picture for the Florentine banker and collector Carlo Rossi in around 1646. Such pictures would have appealed to learned collectors who appreciated the bizarre and outlandish, filling their cabinets with natural and artistic curiosities. According to a letter written by Rosa, the painting hung behind a curtain at the end of a long gallery so that it could be dramatically revealed to unsuspecting visitors.

Style: Baroque, Academic
This picture was commissioned to celebrate the marriage of the banker Pierfrancesco Borgherini to Margherita Accaiuoli in 1515. It formed part of a series of that decorated their bedroom in the Borgherini palace in Florence. The group of pictures by Florentine painters, known as The Story of Joseph: Scenes from the Borgherini Bedchamber, includes panels by Bacchiacca as well as Pontormo in the National Gallery's collection. Granacci and Andrea del Sarto also contributed to the decorative scheme, which would have been one of the most sumptuous of the time.

Having been sold into slavery by his jealous half-brothers, Joseph was taken to Egypt and bought by Potiphar, the head of Pharaoh's guard (Joseph sold to Potiphar). Joseph refused the sexual advances of Potiphar's wife, who falsely accused him of rape and had him thrown into jail. When in prison Joseph interpreted the dreams of Pharaoh's butler and baker, who had been imprisoned for offending him. Joseph foresaw that the butler would be reinstated but the baker would be hanged (Pharaoh with his Butler and Baker).

Joseph had asked the butler to mention him to Pharaoh and secure his release, but the butler forgot. Joseph remained in prison for another two years until Pharaoh himself had a dream of seven fat cows and seven lean cows, which none of his advisers could interpret. The butler remembered Joseph, who advised Pharaoh to store grain because seven plentiful years would be followed by seven years of famine. Pharaoh made Joseph his vizier, the second most powerful man in Egypt.

In this episode, Joseph's brothers arrive from Canaan (Palestine) to beg for help in the second year of the famine. They do not recognise their long-lost brother Joseph, who does not speak to them in Hebrew or reveal his identity (Genesis 42: 1--8). The brothers prostrate themselves before Joseph, who sits in command on a classical triumphal chariot. On the right, grain is distributed from Pharaoh's stores.

The inscriptions on the chariot allude to Christ's title of Salvator Mundi ('Saviour of the World'). Joseph has saved the Egyptians from starvation. A parallel was often made between the lives of Joseph and Christ, with Joseph's story anticipating Christ's.

The next episode in the story is told in Joseph receives his Brothers on their Second Visit to Egypt by Bacchiacca.

Style: High Renaissance, Mannerist
A sick person wearing a white veil and gown lies in bed; it appears to be a woman. A man kneels beside her. He's barefoot, and has fringes of grey hair around his balding head and a grey beard. Another man stands at the bed head, holding a pink shirt. On the left, a child holding a pair of shoes turns to look up at a woman in a yellow gown with a basket over one arm. Another man, also barefoot and in a greyish mantle, stands next to them. A view through a window or doorway is visible behind him.

This is probably the raising of Tabitha (Acts 9: 36--41), one of the miracles performed by Saint Peter after Christ's death. Tabitha, also known as Dorcas, was a disciple of Christ who lived in Joppa (now Jaffa, in Israel). She had done many good works during her life and when she died, her friends sent for Saint Peter. They brought him to the room where Tabitha's body had been laid, where 'all the widows stood by him weeping and showing him all the coats and garments which Dorcas had made'. Peter knelt beside the bed and prayed, and said 'Tabitha arise' -- she opened her eyes and sat up.

The style has features in common with the work of  the Brunswick Monogrammist: stocky figures, often seen from the back, with round heads and sloping shoulders, and theatrical gestures.

The painting is not in good condition. The panel itself has had a number of additions which appear to be replacing lost original wood; presumably the edges were badly damaged. Some of the colours have changed: the bedspread and the robe of the man on the left were originally green, but have a copper-containing glaze which has turned brown. The man's head is not original, although the mantle over his shoulder, at his left wrist and between his left hand and left foot probably are.

Style: High Renaissance
Afternoon (L'Après-Dinée) is the third in  Lancret's series of paintings The Four Times of Day. A gentleman and three ladies, who resemble those in Midday but are perhaps now a little older, are gathered around a tric-trac table in a woodland glade. Tric-trac was a game similar to backgammon. It may be only a coincidence but Lancret’s painting was made at about the same time as the publication in 1739 of the first edition of Soumille’s book Le Grand Trictrac, which describes the rules and techniques of the game.

Gaming was enjoyed both in the afternoons and the evenings in affluent French circles at this time. However, games of luck including gambling were prohibited other than in private houses and on a moderate scale. Tric-trac was a game of skill rather than merely luck, so it did not fall into this category.

The gentleman and a lady are playing at the table -- the lady has just thrown the dice from her horn cup and has a double, which carries the potential for extra points. She appears to have moved her scoring peg to the fourth or fifth hole (the equivalent of 48 or 60 points), while the man’s scoring peg is only on the second hole (24 points). The gentleman looks back over his shoulder at one of the ladies and gestures to the counters on the board, perhaps to ask advice on his next move or to question the rules.

The series of paintings was etched and engraved in reverse by Nicolas de Larmessin III and presented to the Académie royale de peinture et de sculpture in 1741. The verse on Larmessin’s print of this painting translates as: ‘This game demands study and luck / Love also depends on chance and its cares: / When there’s an argument in a case like this, one seeks witnesses / In other circumstances three’s a crowd.’ The verses also suggest a parallel between a game of tric-trac and a love affair. The painting continues the themes of time and love expressed in the earlier pictures of the series.

Lancret made adjustments to the composition during painting, possibly adding the lady in pink last of all.

Style: Baroque, Rococo
The careful painting of intricate details in this small panel, made for private contemplation, transforms it into a precious object as well as an aid to devotion. Even the reverse, painted to imitate marble, was not neglected, indicating that it was made to be portable rather than fixed to a wall. The owner might have taken it with him on his travels as a focus for prayer when away from home. It may have been hinged to another panel to form a diptych, which could have been closed like a book to protect the images within.

The Virgin Mary holds the Christ Child in her arms. She is seated on a green cushion placed upon a marble box-like seat -- its surface and the step supporting her feet are decorated with coloured marble inlays outlined with gilding. The front is carved with acanthus leaves and rosettes recalling Roman sarcophagi (marble tombs) which were usually elaborately decorated. The corbels that jut out beneath the upper surface are similar to those found supporting roofs in ancient buildings and seem to suggest that, like a tomb, the structure has a lid. Two angels hold up a red cloth, embroidered with gold thread, creating a makeshift throne. The combination of tomb and throne may be intended to make a theological point about Christ’s dual nature as human and divine. As a human he was crucified and died but as a divine being he was resurrected, majestically triumphing over death. Here Christ is still a baby, his little foot resting upon his mother’s wrist as he reaches to touch her face. Her expression is sorrowful, however, as though she is contemplating his future sacrifice.

When this painting was acquired by the National Gallery in 1968 it was thought to be by Duccio di Buoninsegna, the most well-known fourteenth-century Sienese painter. Recently, technical investigation using infrared light has enabled us to see the drawing beneath the painted surface. Comparisons of this drawing with those found under paintings firmly attributed to Duccio, such as The Virgin and Child with Saint Dominic and Saint Aurea, and Patriarchs and Prophets, show how different they are. It compares well, however, with the drawing found on The Betrayal of Christ from the Santa Croce altarpiece -- Ugolino's only surviving signed work.

As accomplished artists from the same city, Ugolino and Duccio would certainly have known each other’s work well.  The Christ Child’s tender gesture recalls small panels by Duccio including the picture known as the Stoclet Madonna in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. Examination of the underdrawing shows that the artist changed his mind while painting and diverged from Duccio's version slightly by turning Christ’s face towards the viewer, perhaps to allow a more engaging view. This little panel has been dated to 1305 to reflect the fact that it resembles Duccio’s work at around this time when, as here, his contours and colours were soft and muted.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
This picture, painted in fresco, was part of a series of eight paintings which decorated the walls of the palace belonging to the ruling Sienese nobleman, Pandolfo Petrucci. He commissioned the frescoes, three of which  survive in our collection, to celebrate the marriage of his son to Pope Pius III's niece.

The figure in blue and gold armour is Coriolanus. Once a high-ranking Roman general, he was banished from the city in 491 BC, taking refuge with the neighbouring Volsci. This picture shows him back in Rome after leading the Volscian army to victory against the city; his soldiers have pitched their camp on the banks of the river Tiber in the distance. Hearing of his role in the battle, his mother Volumnia and his wife Vergilia -- shown here holding their baby, who tucks his hand into her dress -- led a deputation of women to beg for his mercy and to spare the city. Plutarch, one of several Roman authors to write about this event, describes how Volumnia made a speech that convinced Coriolanus to withdraw the Volscian troops. In honour of their bravery, the Romans built a new temple dedicated to Women's Fortune.

Coriolanus was faced with choosing between his family and his new allegiance to the Volsci, and Signorelli has made his emotion at the sight of his family clear. His arms are open, ready to embrace his elder child, the exuberant little boy who hurtles towards him while casting an anxious glance back towards his grandmother. This touching detail invites the viewer to identify with Coriolanus' dilemma.

Signorelli has made great efforts to make the figures look like ancient Romans. The elaborate draperies and the gilded armour are imaginative impressions of classical-style dress; the laurel wreath Coriolanus wears around his head is a reference to the wreath of victory worn by conquering heroes. Even his children, with their playful gestures and poses, recall the carvings found on ancient Roman sarcophagi (stone coffins).

The patron, Pandolfo Petrucci, may have identified with such a scene: he was banished from Siena briefly in the 1490s and went into self-imposed exile in 1503, only one year before he acquired the buildings that he would transform into his palace.

Style: High Renaissance
On the Greek island of Patmos Saint John the Evangelist is having a vision, which he records in writing: he sees the Woman of the Apocalypse (Revelation 12: 1--4 and 14). He sits with an oversized book in his lap, his quill pen poised, and looks towards the tiny illuminated female figure hovering in the clouds above him.

Alongside her we can see a dragon -- the devil -- ready, as Saint John writes, 'to devour her child' as soon as it is born. She is given 'two wings of a great eagle', faintly visible behind her, to help her escape. The eagle is one of Saint John's attributes and one sits beside him.

This woman is often understood to be the Virgin Mary, the mother of Christ. The Virgin as Woman of the Apocalypse is linked to the doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, the belief that Mary was herself conceived without sin. This painting is paired with The Immaculate Conception, which shows the Virgin standing on a moon and surrounded by stars, like in the vision we see here.

As in all of Velázquez's early works, the figures he paints in his religious scenes appear to be based on real people. Saint John's angular face is unusually youthful -- he is traditionally depicted in paintings as a grey-bearded old man. The background is dark but you can just make out a sea and mountains in the distance.

There are haphazard brushstrokes in the sky, on the upper right: Velázquez had a habit of wiping excess paint from his brush in the background. They are now visible because the paint used to cover them up has become more transparent over time. The pinkish tone of John's mantle would originally have been a more intense red colour.

There are several paintings in the National Gallery that depict this subject. Saint John on Patmos by a Netherlandish artist, for example, shows the saint seated in similar surroundings having the same vision.

Style: Baroque
This woman, resplendent in scarlet, seems to be perfecting her drawing skills. She is engrossed in sketching a stone bust, propped up with what seem to be pieces from a broken sculpture; hanging over the edge of the table is an engraving. Copying sculpture and images such as this was part of an artist’s training, and in the background we can also see an easel. Behind it, the books on the shelves, the globe, the classical arch and the carved column evoke a wider world of learning and intellectual enquiry.

This is not a painting which records a moment in the life of an art student in a real studio. Metsu used the same props -- the bust, the etching and the pink skirt -- as well as the same model in similar poses in other paintings set in different contexts.

This particular composition may have been appreciated for several reasons. Images of women quietly absorbed in their work were particularly popular at the time and were valued as images of virtuous housekeeping in a well-run home. Often they were maids or women of modest means doing domestic chores in the kitchen, but while women did work as artists in seventeenth-century Holland, this room is too grand to be a painter’s studio. The woman’s fur-trimmed jacket and gold-hemmed dress are expensive -- certainly not working clothes. So here we have an image which goes beyond a simple lesson on virtues considered ideal for women. It elevates artistic practice by stressing its intellectual context and also, by inference, it celebrates women in the role of artists. This was a rare confirmation, though Metsu himself did paint another female artist in a picture (now in a private collection) which also includes an easel, a piece of sculpture, books and a globe.

Looking closely at the print lying on the table here may tell us something about Metsu’s own training as an artist. Despite the fold in the paper, he has left just enough of the print visible for it to be identified. It is an etching by Lucas Vorsterman of a painting by Gerard Seghers: Christ at the Column before the Flagellation. Seghers was a Catholic artist from Antwerp. He was known for his religious scenes -- which would not have been popular with the Calvinist Protestants of Leiden, where Metsu was born, or Amsterdam, where he was now working. However, Metsu was probably baptised a Catholic and may have been trained in Utrecht by Catholic painters. Perhaps he too learned his craft by sketching similar prints of religious scenes.

Whatever the truth of the matter, there is also a deeper, less personal resonance inherent in this painting. It draws attention to the connections and overlaps at the core of artistic training and tradition. Metsu has painted a woman learning how to draw. She is copying the work of a sculptor as well as an engraving copied from a painting by another artist. There isn’t just the work of one artist represented here, but contributions from five.

Style: Baroque
This panel is part of the predella of a large altarpiece, which is made up of a central panel showing the Virgin and Christ child with panels on either side showing narrative scenes of the lives of saints. It shows Saints Andrew and Thaddeus holding scrolls. Both are old men with beards. Their haloes are decorated with a now-damaged floral design and outlined with two circles of single dots, finished off with small pyramids of dots that look like rays of light.

The predella was cut into three some time before it entered our collection. The largest section shows paintings:ng4250_5|Christ with eight [[glossary:apostles|apostles]] and another small section shows paintings:ng4250_8|[[glossary:st_simon_of_cyrene|Saints Simon and Thomas]]. Predella panels often featured scenes of the lives of the saints but in this altarpiece those scenes occupy the side panels. A series of half-length images of the apostles with Christ was a suitable alternative.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
This is the outer face of the right-hand shutter of an altarpiece made for the Benedictine abbey at Werden. The outer face of the left-hand shutter also shows four standing saints.

Saint Jerome, dressed in red cardinal's robes, pets the lion that was, according to his legend, his companion from the moment he removed a thorn from its foot. Next to him are Saint Benedict, founder of the Benedictine Order, and Saint Giles, a Benedictine monk. Both wear black robes -- the habit, or uniform, of the Order. The small deer by Giles's side was his only companion during his years living in a forest; according to his legend, he saved it from a hunter's arrow. Finally, Saint Bernard of Clairvaux stands reading. The latter three all carry abbots' staffs in recognition of their role in founding monasteries.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
We have a magnificent view of the Grand Canal and the annual regatta which attracted many visitors to Venice each year. First held in the early fourteenth century, the regatta usually took place on 2 February, the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin, and coincided with the Carnival, one of the oldest festivals in Venice. In the foreground and among the distant crowds we can see figures wearing traditional carnival costume -- the distinctive white mask (bauta), black cape and black tricorne hat.

The course of the regatta stretched the entire length of the Grand Canal to the Ponte della Croce, back to the finishing line at the Volta del Canal. At the lower left we can see the white structure of the Macchina della Regatta, the temporary floating pavilion made of painted wood, plaster and papier mâché. It was created specially for the event and was where prizes were awarded to competitors.

All eyes are on the one-oared gondolas (battelli) racing up the middle of the canal. Just right of centre two craft swing around the bend, tilted and almost touching; the boatmen strain against their oars, trying to catch up with the leaders who are approaching the Rialto Bridge in the distance. Another boat enters the scene on the far right. Spectators watch from the Macchina and cheer from windows hung with multi-coloured banners and from the vessels lining the banks of the canal. Lavishly decorated bissone (eight- or ten-oared boats) carry Venetian nobles, who recline on velvet cushions, and rowers in colourful uniforms. Some of these boats are adorned with mythological figures and animals, others have an oriental theme.

Canaletto has captured the drama of the event, with spectators and architecture laid out at a steep angle that recedes sharply into the distance and focuses our attention on the race. The animated crowds and the boats jostling for position create a feeling of excitement. From up close the ripples on the canal's surface look sketchy, but when you stand back this detail gives the water depth and movement.

This work and its companion piece, The Basin of San Marco on Ascension Day, are among the grandest views of Venice that Canaletto made for the wealthy visitors who flocked to see the city and the impressive public festivals and ceremonies held on its waterways. Canaletto and his studio painted many versions of this view, both with and without regattas taking place -- see an earlier version of this regatta scene in the our collection -- as this was a popular image among tourists.

Style: Baroque, Rococo