wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
Seven saints talk and interact as though Lippi was painting an animated portrait of a group of historical figures. In fact, they all lived at a different times in history, and this gathering is purely imaginative. It might be intended to represent the saints gathered together in heaven, although they are shown in a wooded hillside.

Lippi has used traditional symbols to identify each figure. The group is framed on either side by two saints dressed in the habits (uniform) of the religious orders to which they belonged. On the far left is Saint Francis, founder of the Franciscans in the thirteenth century. His meditation on the suffering of Christ was so profound that he himself developed the wounds of the Crucifixion; here they emit rays of heavenly light. Mirroring him is Saint Peter Martyr, the knife embedded in his skull a reminder of his death.

The barefoot saint in the centre is Saint John the Baptist. He holds a slender cross, a reference to his prophecies about Christ and his ministries. He sits between Saints Cosmas and Damian; the little golden boxes on the ledge behind them are their medicine boxes, a reminder that they were doctors. Cosmas appears to be having a divine vision and raises his hands towards heaven, while Damian presses his palms together in prayer.  Next to them are Saint Lawrence, on the left, and Saint Anthony Abbot, on the right. Saint Lawrence was burnt to death on a grill, which became his symbol -- it rests against the bench by his side. Saint Anthony Abbot is shown as an old man with a wooden crook, because he lived as a hermit in the wilderness.

The painting and its pair came from the Palazzo Medici in Florence and the saints shown here have connections with members of the family. Saint John the Baptist, shown in the centre, represents Giovanni di Bicci, who had established the family's wealth in the fourteenth century. Giovanni had four sons: Cosimo, Damiano, Antonio and Lorenzo, represented here by Saints Cosmas, Damian, Anthony Abbot and Lawrence. Cosimo’s sons Piero (later known as Piero the Gouty) and Giovanni are represented by Saint Peter Martyr and Saint John the Baptist (again); Piero's father-in-law was called Francesco, which explains the presence of Saint Francis. Saint Lawrence might also have a connection to Cosimo's grandson, born in 1449, who became known as 'Lorenzo the Magnificent'. His other grandson, Giuliano, is not represented, though Saint Julian appears in another painting commissioned by the Medici. This suggests that our picture was made before Giuliano's birth in 1453.

We don't know who exactly commissioned the panel. Piero the Gouty may have done so, to celebrate the birth of his son Lorenzo. Or it might have been ordered by Pierfrancesco di Lorenzo di Giovanni di Bicci, whose name saints Peter and Francis frame the composition.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
Two horses run wild across a flat, earthy plain against a cloudy sunset. The horse to the left of the scene is more thinly painted over the brown base colour so that it smoulders yellow in the dusky light; the one advancing wildly toward the viewer is highlighted in cream and white, reflecting another, brighter light source. According to an inscription on the cartellino in the bottom left, these are ‘the horses of Achilles’ (equi/aquillis), Xanthus and Balius. They were the immortal offspring of the harpy Podarge and the god of the west wind, Zephyrus, who may be represented by the winged head with its cheeks filled with air to blow out.

According to the Iliad, an epic poem by the ancient Greek poet Homer, Poseidon, god of the sea, gifted the horses to King Peleus, who then gave them to his son, Achilles. According to legend, when Achilles was an infant, his mother -- the sea nymph Thetis -- dipped him in the waters of the Styx, a river of the underworld with the power to make someone immortal. But to do so, she held her son by his heel, leaving this one spot untouched by the water. Achilles became a seemingly invincible soldier, fighting in the Trojan War and killing the Trojans’ best warrior, Prince Hector. He was eventually killed by an arrow, shot into his vulnerable heel by Hector’s brother, Paris.

Exactly which part of the Homeric myth this painting depicts is unclear: the horses are not tethered to Achilles’ chariot, but running free in a barren expanse. Homer relates how Achilles’ closest companion, Patroclus, could control the two horses, and when he was killed the animals grieved on the battlefield. This may well be the moment shown here: the horse in the foreground certainly appears agitated, with its widened eyes, dishevelled hair and flared, red-flecked nostrils. But it could equally be an image of the wild immortal horses with their wind-god father before they were granted to Peleus. A similar horse to the one on the left appears to have been painted in the sky and then overpainted as the artist changed the picture’s composition.

Whatever its subject, the picture is certainly intended to showcase the artist’s competency in convincingly painting horse expression, anatomy and movement -- a notably difficult skill which both the Flemish painter Anthony Van Dyck and his teacher Rubens mastered in their numerous depictions of horses. The painting was traditionally thought to be by Van Dyck, and certainly displays the liveliness of his studies of Andalusian horses. Cleaning of the painting in 1966, however, revealed that it was probably painted at a later date by another artist in the style of the great master. Elements of the paint handling, and the pink, blue and yellow colours of the background, recall the style of the Venetian painter Titian, whose work deeply influenced Van Dyck and many of his contemporaries and followers.

Style: Baroque, Stuart
Christ's body has been taken down from the Cross and is being carried on a shroud to his place of burial. His head rests limply on his shoulder, his pale, foreshortened body the focus of a whole retinue of grieving figures, each expressing their sorrow in different ways. At the back is the Virgin Mary in blue; next to her in a turban is presumably Nicodemus or Saint Joseph of Arimathaea. The kneeling women on the right is perhaps Saint Mary Magdalene and one of the young men might be  Saint John the Evangelist. Although not described in the Gospels, this variant on the Entombment was occasionally depicted in Renaissance and Baroque art. An example by Michelangelo is also in our collection: The Entombment.

Despite the small scale of this picture, the composition is monumentally conceived and the scene is imbued with a deep sense of pathos. It is painted on copper and the artist has exploited the material's reflective properties by painting a night scene, contrasting the darkness of the cave with the flickering light of the flaming torch falling on the figures. The figures are placed centrally and close to the picture plane, increasing the viewer's emotional involvement: we feel we are there, among Christ's family and friends, sharing in their grief.

This picture was once attributed to Ludovico Carracci but is now thought to be by Sisto Badalocchio, a pupil of Annibale Carracci. Badalocchio may have drawn inspiration for his composition from a work by Annibale, and it has been suggested that a painting now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, may be Annibale's original. According to Annibale's two principal biographers, it was commissioned in 1594 by Astorre di Vincenzo Sampieri, a canon of the cathedral of Bologna, as a gift to an unidentified collector in Rome. Sampieri apparently left the choice of subject to Annibale, who decided on the burial for the opportunity it gave him to create a picture 'filled with expression, with tears, with movement ... variety in showing young and old men and women and similar learned contrasts'. The picture was so successful that Sampieri decided to keep it for himself and sent a copy made by the young Guido Reni to Rome instead. The popularity of Annibale's design is demonstrated by the existence of numerous copies -- at least ten survive, ascribed to different artists, including a fine example in Dulwich Picture Gallery, London. Badalocchio may have used Annibale's design as a starting point for our painting and for his large canvas of 1618 for the Oratorio della Morte in Reggio Emilia, which exists today only in fragments in the Galleria Estense, Modena.

Style: Baroque, Academic
This painting depicts an episode from Ovid’s Metamorphosis (book 7: 835--862), a Latin poem of well-known stories and characters from Greek mythology. Cephalus is horrified to find his wife, Procris impaled and slumped against a tree, after he has accidentally killed her with his spear. He thought she was a wild animal -- the deer fleeing over the horizon was his intended prey.

Earlier in the story, Procris suspects Cephalus of infidelity and follows him to a forest and hides when she hears him approach. She has previously given him the spear and a magic dog that were a gift to her from Diana, goddess of the hunt.

The discoloured and worn paint surface, and extensive repainted areas that include most of the figure of Cephalus and part of Procris, makes it difficult for us to appreciate the painting’s original appearance. It was probably painted by an assistant in Claude’s studio: the lack of perspective and detail in the landscape as well as the clumsy figures -- Cephalus stands in a stiff pose and has an oversized hand -- suggest the artist was perfecting his skills. This composition is probably a copy of an original work by Claude painted in around 1646, although its location is unknown.

This scene has been painted over an earlier painting of a large female figure which is faintly visible. To the right of Procris and Cephalus there are several diagonal lines which are the outline of her legs. The canvas originally formed part of a larger painting, which was cut down and re-used to paint the scene we see here.

Style: Baroque, Academic
An opulently dressed young woman stands in an imaginary architectural setting. She is brightly lit compared to the dark classical columns and bottle-glass window above her. Her dress of crumpled crimson silk has detachable sleeves, which are embroidered with meandering textured bands.The style of the dress, especially the puffs at the tops of the sleeves, suggests a date in the mid- to late 1540s.

The young lady wears a pearl necklace from which is suspended a gold cross with four dangling pearls, and a blue stone or enamel ornament in its centre. Around her waist is an ornamental chain with hollow perforated gold beads between the links. She may be holding a pomander containing sweet smelling herbs, a tiny book, a scent bottle or locket in her hand at the end of the chain.The yellow paint of the gold chain looks dark; it may have become translucent, showing the crimson of the dress beneath. A similar effect can be seen on the right arm of the cross where it is painted over the red dress.

The lady's facial type and expression, the colour of her flesh, the hatched grey brushstrokes in the shadows around her eyes and under her chin, and the softly boneless anatomy of her left hand are all typical of Paris Bordone's work. So is the glimmer of light in the lady's eyes: her irises with their very large pupils are crossed by a short, slightly curved line of white impasto.

In the upper left of the painting is an opening into what appears to be a brightly lit courtyard with an impossibly precarious, twisting flight of stairs. The staircase relates to a design published by Sebastiano Serlio in his book of architecture. A man in a dark costume stands at the top of the stairs apparently watching the woman below. In the nineteenth century the setting was described as a 'portion of the hospital at Genoa' and the sitter was said to be a member of the Genoese Brignole family.

The lady appears to have hastily opened her translucent shawl and tucked it carelessly into her dress, revealing her flushed bosom in a way that may have been intended to appear provocative and enticing. Her sideways glance and the bold gesture of her hand on her hip might suggest that she was not as demure as her cross implies.

This is probably the portrait of a particular young woman. It is inscribed 'AETATIS SUAE / ANN. XVIII' on the architecture above her right shoulder, showing that she is 19 years old. Another painting by Bordone, the so-called Violante (Alte Pinakothek, Munich), which has a similar bold sideways glance and pose, is now generally regarded as the portrait of a courtesan or of an ideal beauty for which a courtesan modelled.

The National Gallery's picture may have been made to hang to the left of a painting of a young man, possibly the lady's lover or betrothed. This would explain the woman's sidelong glance and the light falling from the right, which is very unusual in Bordone's work. It may be the portrait of 'a most lascivious woman' sent by Bordone to Ottaviano Grimaldi with Grimaldi's own portrait (Palazzo Rosso, Genoa).

Style: High Renaissance
This painting on canvas, together with another group of heads, is a copy of part of Correggio's destroyed fresco, The Coronation of the Virgin, from the apse of S. Giovanni Evangelista in Parma. A number of fragments of Correggio's original fresco are also in the National Gallery's collection: Head of an Angel, Heads of Two Angels and another Head of an Angel.

This picture is a copy of the figures on the right of Correggio's fresco, behind the figure of Saint John the Baptist. The saint's lamb (representing Christ, who will be sacrificed for humanity) is held by the infant angel in the copy, although John the Baptist himself is not included.

When the apse was rebuilt in 1587, a replica of Correggio's Coronation of the Virgin was painted in the apse by Cesare Aretusi. This painting is likely to be an early copy made before Correggio's original fresco was detached from the apse of S. Giovanni Evangelista in the 1580s. When it was in the Farnese Collection in Rome it was believed to be by Annibale Carracci. Annibale wrote a letter to his cousin Lodovico from Parma on 28 April 1580 saying that he was engaged in copying heads by Correggio from 'the cupola'. He may have been referring to either the cupola of S. Giovanni Evangelista or the cupola of the Cathedral, for which Correggio signed the contract in 1522.

Annibale was probably copying frescoes at Parma by Correggio in both 1580 and 1586, and it is possible that he painted two sets of copies of Correggio's apse fresco -- one set now in Naples, the other in Parma. The Parma set may have been made for Aretusi to use when painting the replica fresco when the apse was rebuilt. However, we do not know whether the National Gallery copies were made by Annibale Carracci as it is difficult to identify the artist's own style in a copy.

Style: High Renaissance
From the mouth of a harbour or estuary, Jan van de Cappelle subtly leads our eye out to sea. A couple of fishermen are working with nets in the shallow waters of the foreground while the ship in the centre, flying the red and white flags of the city of Dordrecht, sets out.

It is a wijdschip (a type which worked in coastal waters) and it may be carrying, or preparing to unload, cargo from the ship in the distance which appears to be hove to -- that is, its sails set to keep it steady and stationary. This is a much larger, three-masted fluitschip, the most important merchant vessel of the time and used for trading with the East Indies, which was the source of much of Holland’s wealth during the seventeenth century. It too flies a Dordrecht pennant at its masthead, though the colours of the huge flag on the stern are unclear.

Style: Baroque
A small, beady-eyed sparrow on one side of a set of scales heavily outweighs the gold and pearls which a weeping woman, two tears glistening on her cheeks, places in the other. Clearly, in the real word, this couldn't happen: the bird would be much the lighter than the jewellery. But this picture does not seek to depict the real world -- it's an allegorical painting, and the artist invites us to decode the message behind the central image of the impossible scales.

Nearly 400 years after the painting was made we can never be sure of the accuracy of our interpretations, but it almost certainly implies that no matter how much gold and how many pearls the woman loads onto the scales, their value can never match that of the sparrow. A bird could be symbolic of many things, but here it mostly likely represents virtue and true love -- qualities which may also be reflected by the image of the two embracing putti carved into the stone next to it.

Why, then, is the woman weeping? And why too is there an image of another putto -- or perhaps Cupid -- in the niche behind her? The position of his arms and declining head closely match hers, and he too appears anguished. As well as the jewels, her expensive clothes and the costly ostrich feather in her hair suggest a wealthy lifestyle, and the implication is that this has been gained through prostitution. It is a trade-off she now regrets.

This painting also has jewel-like qualities. It is slightly smaller than a paperback novel and is painted on a copper plate, which allowed the artist to create an exceptionally fine, bright finish. This style of highly meticulous small-scale painting was a speciality of Schalcken, which he learned from his teacher, Gerrit Dou, in Leiden. Another painting of very similar size (now in the Rijksmuseum, Amsterdam) by Frans van Mieris the Elder, who was also taught by Dou, shows a woman releasing a sparrow from a box. It is an allegory of the loss of virginity and was once in the same collection as Schalcken's. It is possible that Schalcken’s picture was intended as a companion painting to represent the woman's grief at her loss.

Style: Baroque
Mary Magdalene leans on a large book and holds the pot of ointment with which she anointed Christ's feet. According to legend, she retreated into the wilderness of Provence, in southern France, to avoid human contact. She lived there alone, unreachable by man, and was brought bread by angels who sang to her.

In her penitence in the wilderness she has abandoned all her jewels and finery and her hair is in disarray. She is a voluptuous penitent: her simple blue cloth has slipped down, revealing her breasts and reminding us of her past life when she was reputedly a prostitute. Correggio allows us to see her in this remote location where no one else can reach her. She turns to look at us, with one naked foot crossed over the other, as though we have just interrupted her reading. Her gaze is open and direct, meeting our eye in an intimate moment.

Correggio’s depiction of a full-length Mary Magdalene in a landscape is very original. She is seamlessly integrated into her wild setting, anchored in a cross shape formed by her limbs and the rocky ledge, in the centre of the composition. Correggio has depicted the ivy, dandelions and plants surrounding her in meticulous detail. The dandelion was associated with the bitterness of the Passion. Two of the flowers with ragged pale petals in the foreground appear to be pinks, which were also associated with the Passion. The other plants -- such as evergreen ivy suggesting immortality -- may have had similar associations with Christ.

This is probably a relatively early work by Correggio, but it is not in good condition. With her sweet face and fair hair, Mary Magdalene looks like Correggio’s Diana in his frescoes for the Camera di San Paolo (Chamber of Saint Paul) in a convent in Parma, painted in 1518--19. Her body also resembles Correggio’s nude Three Graces for the same room, and may have been painted around the same time. Several other versions of the composition are known, but this appears to be the best of them. A change made to the picture during painting has been considered as evidence that it is definitely an original by Correggio, but some regard it as a copy of a lost original.

As with many small early works by Correggio, there is not much information about the origins or history of this picture prior to the beginning of the last century. A painting by Correggio in the collection of King Charles I was described as Mary Magdalene ‘standing and leaning, being a little intire figure, which has been too much washed.’ (This means that the painting had been over-restored.) However, the description may have been referring to a slightly larger version of this picture.

Style: High Renaissance
The subject of the painting is the assassination of the Dominican friar and Inquisitor Pietro da Verona on 6 April 1252. The story is told in the Golden Legend, a thirteenth-century book by the Dominican friar Jacopo de Voraigne which recounts the lives of saints. Pietro was killed in a wood by Cathars -- considered heretical -- who struck him in the head with a hatchet and wounded him in the chest with a sword. Known henceforth as Peter Martyr, Pietro da Verona was made a saint by the Catholic Church in 1253 and developed a flourishing cult. He became a particularly important figure for members of the Dominican Order, ranking alongside their founder Saint Dominic.

Here he reaches towards a burst of heavenly light, accepting his murder for the cause of Christ, as his assassin pins him to the ground and draws back his dagger ready to strike. According to a witness, with his dying breath Pietro called out the words of Christ on the Cross: ‘Into your hands, oh Lord, I entrust my soul.’ His last action was reportedly to write ‘Credo’ ('I believe') in his own blood on the ground. Here, cherubs prepare to descend from the clouds with his martyr’s palm. In the woods, other assailants attack Pietro’s companion, who is wounded but escapes. The murderous events are at odds with the peaceful landscape -- peasants load firewood on to their mule, while others in the adjoining meadow herd cattle, oblivious to the nearby crisis.

The painting is strongly influenced by Venetian depictions of this subject. The horizontal format and the setting before a line of trees recalls at least two versions of the subject by Giovanni Bellini and his workshop, one of which is in the National Gallery's collection. The motif of the peasants with their mule in the woods and the pose of the second Dominican friar also seem to relate to these precedents.

During the nineteenth century this painting was believed to be by Giorgione but is clearly from a later period. It has been dated to the 1540s on the basis of the assassin’s distinctive costume. The subject was particularly famous in Venice because of its treatment by Titian in an altarpiece of 1525--30 for the church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo. Titian’s altarpiece was destroyed in a fire in 1867 but is known from copies and engravings. The pose of the assassin and Peter Martyr in the National Gallery’s painting are related to those in Titian’s composition but in reverse. However, in Titian’s painting the trees sway wildly whereas in the National Gallery’s picture the bucolic landscape contrasts with, rather than reflects, the drama of the assassination. The landscape is similar to those in other paintings in the National Gallery's collection attributed to Bernardino da Asola.

The painting has suffered damage in many places and been extensively restored, especially around the area of the assassin and the cherubs.

Style: High Renaissance