wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
Saint Mark, one of the four authors of the Gospels, stands on a tilted floor next to Saint Augustine, a fourth-century theologian. A winged lion, the traditional symbol of Saint Mark, can be seen resting at the feet of the saint.

This panel is a fragment of the same altarpiece to which Saint John the Baptist and Saint John the Evangelist belongs. It has been said that these two paintings formed part of the same altarpiece as three other panels by Machiavelli, but the shapes and sizes do not correspond. However, the lost or unidentified central panel from this altarpiece is likely to have shown the Virgin Mary and Christ Child and, if that is the case, the tilted floor probably continued seamlessly across all the panels. But it's also possible that a sculpture formed the centre of this ensemble. Either way, the orientation of Saints Mark and Augustine suggests that this panel was originally on the right-hand side of the central image, while the other would have been on the left.

Mark was among the Twelve Apostles, and here holds a quill and his Gospel, similar to Saint John the Evangelist in the other panel, who writes in a book. Saint Mark's book is closed, however, perhaps a comment on chronology: the Gospel of Mark dates to the seventh decade AD, while the Gospel of John was probably written around 100 AD.

Saint Augustine was also a celebrated writer. His pearl-studded mitre here contains an image of the Resurrection, as described in the Gospel of Mark. Directly below that image Christ is depicted as the Man of Sorrows, surrounded by further saints in shapes known as quatrefoils. The richly decorated mitre, crosier and gloves identify Augustine as Bishop of Hippo, his home town  (the modern city of Annaba, in Algeria). Clutching the crosier with his left hand, his right is raised in blessing, presumably towards the image of the Virgin and Child in the missing central panel.

Unfortunately, nothing is known about the original layout and context of these panels. The depiction of Saint Augustine suggests their origin in an Augustinian foundation. Scholars have speculated that these panels came from the Florentine church of S. Spirito, but there is little evidence in support of this claim. Another possibility is that they came from the Tuscan hilltop town of Montepulciano, where they were recorded in a private collection in the early nineteenth century, but Zanobi Machiavelli is not documented in that city.

There is a profile sketch of a woman on the back of this painting, which may suggest the wooden panel was originally intended for a portrait. No such portrait by the artist is known -- he specialised in the production of altarpieces and devotional paintings.

Style: Early Renaissance
Towering storm clouds threaten vessels fighting choppy waves on the Zuiderzee -- once an inlet of the North Sea in the north coast of the Netherlands. The man-of-war (battleship) sailing away from us on the right flies the Dutch flag and has the arms of Amsterdam on its stern, as does the smaller boat, a boyer yacht, pitching forward on the wash from the vessels ahead, brown sail taut. The two coats of arms proclaim them as official craft of the city.

Here, Bakhuizen's skill in suggesting the depth, strength and turbulence of the tide is at its highest. He catches the white tops of the waves in a watery ray of sunlight, leaving the foreground almost in darkness. In spite of this bright patch, his waters are chill and dangerous.

In the distance, the gale is so strong that several boats keel over, their white sails straining. To their right, almost hidden in the mist and spray, are the sea walls of the port of Enkhuizen, recognisable by the slender tower of the Zuiderkerk (South Church) -- a beacon to travellers by sea. Enkhuizen was an important fishing port but also one of the main ports of the VOC, the East India Company, the powerful Dutch maritime organisation that traded with Africa and Asia and helped bring the Netherlands its wealth.

The Dutch spent a great deal of the late seventeenth century at war with the French, the Chinese and anyone who threatened their trade with both East and West Indies. Whether the men-of-war in the picture are going into or returning after a battle isn't clear. Sails, normally torn to shreds in a fight, here appear to be unscathed, although the ship on the right has lost part of the main, or central, mast. The sea is rough but the waves aren't enormous, so the loss of the mast wouldn't appear to be the fault of the weather. Not so for the small fishing boat in the centre, pitching and tossing on the waves. Its mast has gone, and the boat is in tow, with the lone fisherman doing his best to steer, his hair flying in the wind.

In spite of the presence of the men-of-war with their flags and bellying sails, Bakhuizen's main feature is the wijdschip ('wide ship'), a much less glamorous vessel in use on the Zuiderzee. It carries passengers and a sailor, legs stretched out nonchalantly, half-hidden by a sail. The sea was the usual mode of transport for the Dutch so they were used to its many moods, but someone does seem to be quite literally having a picnic. An old woman eats her soup only a few feet above the water, the waves splashing the boat but leaving her seemingly unconcerned with anything but her meal.

Style: Baroque
In a vaguely wooded setting, with a bluish clearing to the right, a woman, who is traditionally identified as Venus, sits with two naked cupids pressing into her lap from either side. The whole is very rapidly and thickly painted. Venus’s skirt is painted in thick strokes of pinks and whites swirled together, with dashes of red-brown helping to shape the folds. Her face, which is deep in shadow, has been left unfinished. The legs of the cupid on the left are boldly outlined in the same dark red paint as that in Venus’s skirt.

The composition is intimately related to a more finished work with the title Love’s Caresses (Madame Diaz and her two Sons) (private collection). It can also be linked to numerous other such works by Diaz, and forms part of his extensive output of Venus-type figures, usually accompanied by children, which he produced from about 1846 to 1863. They are almost always seated in forest settings, the groupings framed by trees on either side.  Despite their mythological subject matter, they were also very influenced by depictions of the Virgin Mary  and Christ Child by Correggio.

Critics in the nineteenth century remarked on the artist’s fondness for such subjects, with Théophile Silvestre in 1856 comparing his production with that of a factory, prompted, as he put it, by insatiable demand on the part of the dealers and public. A year later, on the occasion of Diaz’s public sale, a critic expressed a certain weariness with ‘the lack of variety which you meet in the subjects of this artist’s paintings: nymphs and Cupids, Cupid disarmed, The education of Cupid, Cupid’s Caresses, Faithful Cupid etc...’. Nevertheless, such paintings continued to be extremely popular with collectors.

Style: Barbizon
In order to meet the huge demand for his paintings, Giovanni Bellini had a large workshop of assistants who produced works in his style, under his supervision. This one shows the Three Kings (sometimes called wise men, or magi) worshipping the infant Christ. According to the Gospel of Matthew, a star -- which is visible in the sky above Christ here -- guided them from their land to Bethlehem, where Christ was born.

This picture is as much a landscape as it is a narrative painting; landscape had become a key part of Bellini's painting at around this date. The broad view incorporates craggy outcrops to the left and small hills to the right, circled by snaking town walls. In the middle of the valley is a sea or lake enclosed by snowy mountains in the far distance. According to the Gospels Christ was born in a stable, which is here shown as a grotto within one of the outcrops. As was common in Bellini's pictures, the natural features enhance the story: the expansive landscape has space for the long line of the kings' entourages, descending down the hillside path towards the holy family. Andrea Mantegna used the landscape setting in this way in The Agony in the Garden, where we see an army of Roman soldiers descending from a city perched on the top of a distant hill.

This interpretation of the biblical story is novel. It recalls the large-scale history paintings made by Giovanni's brother, Gentile -- they commemorated significant events in contemporary Venetian life and feature a large number of figures painted on a small scale, as here. The kings were from 'the east', which meant that painters could depict them wearing outfits that they associated with cultures in the Eastern Mediterranean and beyond. Many here wear white turbans, similar to that worn by the Ottoman Sultan Mehmet II in Gentile's portrait of him, made when the artist was in Istanbul in the early 1480s. The kings are distinguished by their ornate clothing, perhaps inspired by Gentile's travels. Those shown kneeling wear colourful robes woven with golden thread, while the one standing at the back wears black robes -- black was an expensive fabric in the fifteenth century. The paint surface is considerably worn but the head of the king kneeling at the front is the best preserved part of the picture.

Style: Early Renaissance
This small wooden panel, probably painted by Jacopo di Cione, shows Jesus Christ meeting his disciple Mary Magdalene after his resurrection from the dead. We can identify Mary by her red robe and long blonde hair. The Gospel of John recounts that Mary went to anoint Jesus' body in his tomb but found it empty. She saw a man she thought was a gardener, but when he spoke her name, Mary realised that it was Christ. She tried to touch him, but he said 'Touch me not; for I am not yet ascended to my Father' (John, 20:17). In the Latin translation of the Gospel, Jesus used the words 'noli me tangere' which means 'do not touch me'. Here, the artist referenced Mary's initial incorrect identification, showing Christ holding a gardening tool, a hoe.

The picture was a pinnacle panel in the uppermost part of a large polyptych, a multi-panelled altarpiece. Its original pointed shape with a curved top can only be partially seen, where the arch starts in the indented upper edges. The picture might have flanked another arch-shaped pinnacle showing The Crucifixion (The Robert Lehman Collection, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York), where we can see a very similar figure of the Magdalene holding onto the cross. The polyptych also included Six Angels (The Robert Lehman Collection, The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York) and the Virgin and Child with angels (Szépművészeti Múzeum, Budapest). Column-like structures, called pilasters, created the outer edges of the altarpiece and were probably decorated with The Littleton Saints. These six panels include the Blessed Paola and Blessed Silvestro, two members of the Camaldolese order who were buried in the monastery of Santa Maria degli Angeli in Florence.

The polyptych might have been painted for the chapel of Ognissanti (All Saints) in the church of Santa Maria degli Angeli. Originally, the chapel was dedicated to Mary Magdalene and Saint Lawrence. In 1365, a notary called Franceschino di Berto degli Albizzi left money to the church. He wanted the monks to say prayers for his soul every November. This might have prompted the monks to change the chapel’s dedication to All Saints’ Day which is celebrated on 1 November. Franceschino himself might have been portrayed in the predella, the altarpiece’s bottom tier with The Man of Sorrows with the Virgin, Saint John the Evangelist and a Donor (Denver Art Museum).

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
A bearded saint stands reading a book, his left hand resting on a sword, in this quietly contemplative picture. From his dark hair and beard and his attributes, we know that this is Saint Paul: the sword is the weapon with which he was martyred and the book represents his many writings.

This small panel is one of two which probably came from the top level of a polyptych (a multi-panelled altarpiece) painted in the later years of the fifteenth century by a follower of the great Lombard artists Vincenzo Foppa and Ambrogio Bergognone. Saint Paul here bears some resemblance, particularly in stance and expression, to Foppa's painting of Saint Theodore in the Pinacoteca del Castello Sforzesco, Milan, although Theodore's staff has been swapped for a sword. Like the figure in Foppa's work, Saint Paul may well have originally stood against a gilded background in an arched frame; the black overpaint is a later addition.

Saint Paul was one of the most important of the apostles and was largely responsible for establishing the Christian Church in the decades after Christ's death. He came from a devout Jewish family from Tarsus on the Mediterranean, part of the Roman Empire. The saint initially persecuted Christian converts but was dramatically converted to the new faith on the road to Ephesus (as shown in The Conversion of Saint Paul). He became the most important promoter of Christianity, writing a considerable (though debated) number of the books of the New Testament -- hence the book in his hand.

After several missionary journeys to found churches in Asia Minor and Europe, he was eventually arrested at the instigation of the Jews of Jerusalem, who accused him of teachings against Jewish law. As a Roman citizen, he appealed to the emperor and was sent to Rome, but was executed on the orders of the Emperor Nero.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
Paulus Theodorus van Brussel’s painting is a lush celebration of nature, but also a piece of clever deception: in one vase he shows flowers that are in bloom at different times of the year. To achieve this, he would have used sketches made when the flowers were available, to be added into a picture when required.

His precise drawing and fluid brushwork enabled him to evoke different subtle textures -- spiralling tendrils and curling leaves, spiky stalks, delicate butterfly wings. Sap oozes from a broken tulip stem, its dying yellow and red petals almost sculptural as they reach down over the pink roses lying on the stone shelf. Every tiny thorn, ready to prick the unsuspecting finger, is visible on the rose stem. Transparent raindrops trickle down nearby leaves and the yolk seeps from one of the tiny eggs in the bird’s nest.

Higher up, a bumblebee buries itself into the heart of a white peony. Nearby, a delicate ant practices balancing tricks on a petal; a narcissus seems to peer at it from the depths of the bouquet. Up again, to the left, a large copper butterfly eagerly reaches its antenna to embrace a blue flower. Another butterfly, probably a skipper, treads delicately on an iris placed, as it often is in Dutch flower paintings, at the top of the arrangement: queen of all flowers.

The blooms in the picture are not the individual exotic specimens shown by artists a hundred years or more earlier -- look at the stiff, immaculate blooms in A Still Life of Flowers in a Wan-Li Vase on a Ledge with further Flowers, Shells and a Butterfly by Ambrosius Bosschaert the Elder. Over time, iris, narcissi, stocks and peonies, even the once-priceless tulips, had become easily available, and were treated much less iconically.

Like Bosschaert, van Brussel painted in oil on a copper base. Paint ran more smoothly on copper than on canvas, making it possible to capture intricate detail. Bosschaert placed his flowers in a costly Chinese porcelain vase, giving them status as rare objects; van Brussel has chosen a terracotta urn. While prettily decorated, its heavy, reddish earthenware appears closer to nature and more in keeping with less expensive flowers.

Van Brussel has massed these flowers together in a delightful disorder. He places his bouquet against the background of a garden with classical statues, in the popular, more relaxed, French Rococo style that was introduced to the Netherlands by Jan van Huysum. Van Huysum painted for a French clientele till late in the eighteenth century; van Brussel made this picture in 1792. It is perhaps strange to think of Dutch artists painting in a style popular with the French aristocracy while revolution raged there, opposing all that the aristocracy stood for -- including ravishing oil paintings of flowers.

Style: Neoclassical
The Passion of Christ is narrated in five scenes from left to right, starting with Agony in the Garden of Gethsemane, moving through his betrayal and arrest to the Crucifixion, Deposition and Resurrection.

This is the predella of an altarpiece painted for a small chapel in the castle of Cerreto Ciampoli, near the border between the territories of Siena and Florence. The main panel shows the Nativity with the Annunciation to the Virgin at the top of the pilasters flanking it, so that the whole altarpiece acts as a summary of the most important events of Christ's life, from his conception to resurrection. The coats of arms at either end are those of the commissioners, members of the Cerretani family.

Pietro Orioli was among the most innovative artists working in late fifteenth-century Siena. The Cerretani also commissioned Orioli's most ambitious work: the 1489 Washing of the Feet in the Baptistry in Siena, in which the artist gave full rein to his interest in classicising architecture, naturalistic figures and three-dimensional space. Although made perhaps five years earlier than this altarpiece, the style of the fresco is markedly more innovative. Perhaps the patrons were more concerned to commission works in the latest style for a major urban church in the city where they spent most of their time than for a small chapel outside the city which they perhaps only visited occasionally.

Style: Early Renaissance
A bright orange curtain is drawn back to reveal a young man standing at a window. He rests the fingers of his right hand on the windowsill, and seems to fasten the stole over his black cloak with his left hand. His head is turned to the side, gazing at something or someone outside the depicted space. Two further windows give us a view of a mountainous landscape, a little town visible in the distance. With windows on three sides, the sparse and narrow setting seems like it might be a balcony.

During the fifteenth century there was a steady increase in the production of portraits as they were no longer commissioned solely by rulers or other high-ranking individuals. In Florence, wealthy merchants or members of noble families often wanted to have a portrait made that could be passed down to future generations. Such images would have commemorated the sitter after his or her death. In other cases, inspired by the poems of the fourteenth-century writer Petrarch, portraits were made to mark a marriage or as a token of love. Unfortunately, we don't know anything about this sitter's identity, let alone his motivations. The handkerchief in his right hand may indicate that he is thinking of his beloved.

Raffaellino del Garbo is not really known as a portraitist. He trained with the Florentine artist Filippino Lippi, and assisted him in an important fresco cycle in the Carafa chapel of the Roman church of S. Maria sopra Minerva. Following this, Raffaellino established himself as one of the leading painters of religious images in Florence during the first quarter of the sixteenth century. Two such paintings, roughly contemporary to this portrait, are in the National Gallery's collection: The Virgin and Child with Two Angels and The Virgin and Child with the Magdalen and Saint Catherine of Alexandria.

Because Raffaellino is best known as a painter of religious images, and in the absence of many other portraits as a point of comparison, scholars have only recently attributed this work to him. An inscription on the back actually names the German artist Albrecht Dürer, which may appear far-fetched: although Dürer visited Italy, he was far removed from Florence. But it is true that the sitter's pose, with his hands on a parapet, and his placement at a window, recalls portraits painted north of the Alps.

In spite of his considerable output, Raffaellino is best known today for having trained Andrea del Sarto and Bronzino, whose fame eclipsed his own.

Style: High Renaissance
An elderly bearded man kneels in a landscape, gazing up at the Virgin Mary and Christ Child who float in the sky. Behind him a rather astonished-looking young woman throws up her hands. This is the Emperor Augustus' encounter with the sibyl, a pagan prophetess.

According to medieval legend, on the day of Christ's birth the Roman Emperor asked the sibyl if anyone would ever be born who would be more powerful than he was. She showed him a vision of the Virgin and Child hovering in the sky above Rome, here shown as a Renaissance city. According to one version of the story, as a result of this experience Augustus set up an altar dedicated to the firstborn of God, which later became the nucleus of the church of the Ara Coeli in Rome.

This small panel was possibly once part of a piece of furniture. It is painted in oil on poplar and has been ascribed to a number of different artists, including Cima da Conegliano, Vittore Carpaccio, Giovanni Bellini and Andrea Busati. Its condition makes attribution difficult however. The landscape background, with its bridge of three arches flanked by towers and the grey hill behind, is close to that in The Entombment by Andrea Busati. Both are taken from a Resurrection scene by Bellini (now in the Staatliche Museen, Berlin).

Style: High Renaissance
The Angel Gabriel announces to the Virgin Mary in the companion painting that she will bear the son of God (Luke 1: 26-8). His words, 'Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord be with you', appear in Latin on the scroll. The text starts at the bottom of the scroll and winds its way up around the golden cross that he holds. Some of the words are not visible where the scroll turns away from us. Gabriel's wings appear to have been studied from those of a real bird.

Originally a panel of God the Father blessing was displayed between the two panels. The stone parapet behind the Virgin and the Angel Gabriel continues across both pictures, as does the cloudy sky. The tops of the trees are just visible above the parapet suggesting that the Annunciation is taking place in an upstairs room or loggia. The low vanishing points of this scene and its companion suggest that these panels were intended to be placed very high up.

The two panels are related to four other panels by Gaudenzio Ferrari which are now in the Galleria Sabauda, Turin. The pictures came from a multi-panelled altarpiece (known as a polyptych) of six paintings arranged in two tiers painted in 1508--9 for the church of Sant’ Anna in Vercelli. It was commissioned by the local confraternity dedicated to Saint Anne for the altar of their oratory. The panels depict scenes from the life of the Virgin’s parents, Saint Anne and Saint Joachim, culminating in the Annunciation to the Virgin and the birth of Christ, who appears as an infant with his mother, grandmother and angels in the central panel.

The altarpiece was arranged as follows: main tier, The Virgin and Child with Saint Anne and Angels (Turin) flanked by the Meeting of Joachim and Anne and the Expulsion of Joachim (both Turin); upper tier, God the Father (Turin) centrally placed above the Virgin and Child, flanked by the Angel Gabriel and the Virgin Mary.

Style: High Renaissance