wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
The Virgin Mary gently lifts her newborn son while Saint Joseph, leaning on his staff, looks tenderly at the Christ Child. Two bound lambs are strategically placed in front of Christ, alluding to his future sacrifice on the Cross as foreseen in the Gospel of John: ‘Behold the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world’ (John 1: 29). In the background, the shepherds are shown in an earlier episode in which an angel, announcing the birth of Christ to them, says: ‘You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger’ (Luke 2:12). The column on a pedestal prominently placed behind the Virgin, contrasting with the humble setting of the manger with its precarious straw and timber roof, may allude to the strength of the Christian faith.

The Virgin’s vibrant blue robe stands out against the earth colours around her. She and her baby are brightly lit, especially Christ’s blonde head which is surrounded by rays of divine light. Their pale skins contrast with the tanned shepherds, who were probably painted from live models. All ages are represented here; from the young boys in the foreground to the wrinkled elderly woman, whose sunken mouth indicates that she may have lost her teeth. This naturalism can be seen in other details too, such as the dirty fingernails of the shepherd in the centre.

The painting has in the past been attributed to various Spanish and Neapolitan artists, including Velázquez, Murillo, Ribera and Zurbarán. It is difficult to arrive at a definitive attribution because different areas of the painting are reminiscent of different artists. The shepherd boys and the elderly woman, for example, resemble Ribera’s early paintings and Murillo’s scenes of childhood, such as A Peasant Boy leaning on a Sill. Other elements, such as the bread basket and the lambs, recall Zurbarán’s highly naturalistic still lifes. Further research into the early careers of these artists and their painting techniques may shed more light on who made this picture. It is quite likely, though, that it was painted by a prominent Spanish artist as several early copies survive in Spain.

In 1837 the work was acquired for a great gallery of Spanish paintings that the French king Louis-Philippe was creating in the Louvre. There it was considered to be by Velázquez and hung alongside Zurbarán's Saint Francis in Meditation. After Louis-Philippe was deposed in 1848, the collection was sold in London and the National Gallery acquired both paintings. Curiously, the Adoration sold for ten times more than the Saint Francis, probably because it was considered then to be by Velázquez, and at the time the National Gallery had only one other work by him, Philip IV hunting Wild Boar. Although scholars have yet to agree on who painted this picture, its outstanding quality and gentle atmosphere remain captivating.

Style: Baroque, Academic
This painting, dating from the last decade of Jacopo Bassano's life, is full of drama and movement. The brushwork applied in rapid strokes of thick opaque paint is typical of Bassano's dynamic and impastoed late style.

The Purification of the Temple is described in all the Gospels. Christ arrives at the temple to find it full of money-changers and traders. Goats, cows, and sheep are being offered for sale. In Bassano's painting, a woman in a yellow dress kneels beside baskets of doves and eggs. A man carries a chicken and a rabbit tied to a staff. Christ ‘made a scourge of cords, he drove them all out of the temple, and the sheep and the oxen, and poured out the changers’ money, and overthrew the tables' (John 2:14--15). The blind and the lame came to him in the temple, and he healed them.

Jacopo Bassano has depicted both parts of the story. Christ first appears in the left foreground lashing a whip in the air to clear out the crowd and the livestock, who surge towards the door. The frightened boy with his hands raised expresses the drama of the moment and relates to the figure of Saint John in Jacopo Bassano’s The Way to Calvary. A spaniel leaps away over a pile of bowls.

The money-changer grasping his carpet-covered table on the right has often been thought to be a portrait of the painter Titian. If so, it would suggest that Jacopo Bassano was making a cutting comment about the senior artist's love of money. The chief priests and scribes watch in indignation from a raised platform on the left. Christ appears a second time in the background, healing the blind and the lame.

Although the original colour and texture of the paint has been preserved where white was used some colours have faded, for example the red jacket of the man behind the cow, and the copper greens have darkened. The picture generally has a very dark appearance because, over time, the upper paint layers have become translucent revealing more of the priming layer of nearly-black paint beneath.

The subject of the Purification of the Temple was rare in Italy at this time. Jacopo Bassano had painted an earlier large canvas (Prado, Madrid), and would have known an imposing picture of the subject by Stefano Cernotto in a courtroom at the Palazzo dei Camerlenghi in Venice. Bassano returned to the subject of the Purification of the Temple many times. He had a special interest in painting animals, so Saint John’s account of the event must have appealed to him. It is unusual for other artists to give such prominence to cattle, sheep and goats in depictions of this scene.

Style: High Renaissance
This panel shows Saint Bartholomew and Saint Monica standing side by side on an angular step that encloses a patch of grass. It formed part of an altarpiece, two other fragments of which are also in the National Gallery's collection -- the step depicted here continues across all three. It would have appeared to the right of the central panel, which shows the Virgin Mary holding the Christ Child. A panel showing Saint Nicholas of Tolentino and a bishop saint, which has the same dimensions as this one, would have been on the left.

Bartholomew is often depicted with a beard and curly hair, but it is the curved flensing knife he holds in his right hand that identifies him: he was skinned alive in punishment for his Christian faith. The book he holds in the other hand may refer to the apocryphal Gospel he wrote, but which is now lost. Bartholomew is joined by a female figure whose halo and Augustinian habit identify her as the fourth-century Saint Monica. She was the mother of Saint Augustine, whose autobiography tells us about her life. The presence of Saint Monica suggests that the altarpiece was made for a church that belonged to the Augustinian Order.

The pointed-arch shape of this panel, which might have recalled architectural elements in the original church, is typical of Italian panel painting of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries; examples in the National Gallery's collection include the San Pier Maggiore Altarpiece, Baptism Altarpiece and Santa Maria Maggiore Altarpiece. So, too, is the decorated gold background. The dense net of vertical lines that form the haloes would have shimmered in flickering candlelight, an effect that inspired devotion and guided the attention of the worshipper. But by around 1470, when Zanobi Machiavelli painted this panel, the shape and the gold background would have appeared somewhat old-fashioned, as they had been superseded by naturalistic landscape settings and rectangular picture fields. Pala, altarpieces where the Virgin and Child with saints are depicted on a single unified surface rather than on separate panels, had also become the norm. The fact that Zanobi did otherwise paint pala altarpieces suggests that the unknown patron of this work demanded the pointed-arch, multi-panelled format.

The wooden framing elements that would have surrounded this panel to create a separate compartment are now lost, but they can be imagined on the basis of surviving examples.

Style: Early Renaissance
There are two characters depicted in this painting, one you can see and one you can’t -- unless, that is, you know where to look. The first is Narcissus, the young man staring into the pool in the foreground, whose story is the origin of our word narcissistic. The best known version of this story, and the one which the artist seems to have had in mind, was told by the Roman author Ovid in his poem Metamorphoses.

According to Ovid, Narcissus was the son of a water nymph, conceived after she was raped by a river god. He was a hunter and, more importantly, a man of extraordinary beauty who attracted a succession of potential lovers. But he also had a weakness, a 'pride so cold that no youth, no maiden touched his heart', and he either spurned or mocked each of his suitors in turn. The goddess Nemesis was so appalled that she vowed to punish him. She led him to a sunless pool where, catching sight of his reflection, he fell in love with his own image. Unable to tear himself away, he pined until 'death sealed the eyes that marvelled at their master’s beauty'. His body faded away leaving nothing more than a flower growing on the spot where he lay. Pynas has depicted him here during the first stages of his self infatuation, gazing languidly into the water, his bow and arrows neglected, his hound looking anxiously up at him.

There is also a second character present but neither we, nor Narcissus, can see her. She is the nymph Echo, the most famous of his spurned admirers. Before she met him, she had already been condemned by the goddess Juno to repeat only the last words spoken to her. Following rejection by Narcissus, she pined away until her bones turned to stone and only the distant sound of her voice survived. She is there, Pynas seems to imply, in the resonant rocks and high cliffs above the pool.

And there are other details from Ovid’s story in the landscape. The watery theme of Narcissus’s parenthood is reflected in the cascade which gushes from under the brick arch and five other rushing streams which lace their way between the rocks, some feeding down into the pool of the foreground. Ovid’s description of a sunless pool 'to which no shepherds ever came' and shaded by a coppice is also rendered faithfully: not only is the water in shadow, but we can see the shepherds far away on the hillside to the right of the picture. Pynas has also chosen to embellish the stone sides of the pool with a reference to another of Ovid’s myths. The carving on the side represents the abduction of Europa, a story which appears just a few pages before that of Narcissus.

Although Pynas weaves myths so subtly into the painting, the picture would probably have been valued originally as much for its landscape as its storytelling. Indeed, the story of Narcissus and Echo was frequently painted in the early seventeenth century precisely because it gave artists an excuse to paint landscape, a genre which was becoming increasingly popular both in Rome and in Holland.

Style: Baroque
The 12 small pictures in this group show the 'labours of the months' -- the rural activities that take place each month throughout the year. They were painted on canvas and then each glued to a wooden panel. It is possible that they were made to decorate the recessed panels of a pair of doors. The paintings seem to have been planned in pairs with the figures facing each other, and they are currently displayed in two frames in groups of six.

In what we believe is the final painting of this series, a man wearing a white apron and holding a knife slaughters a grey pig by slitting its throat. The butcher kneels on the pig and holds its snout shut to stop it struggling. It looks as though the pig's trotters have also been tied. Blood flows from the red gash in the pig's neck into a ceramic dish on the ground. The pig seems to be lying on a wooden box or block outside a simple rendered brick building, which may be the same one we see in the months of January and July.

In cycles of 'labours of the months', slaughtering pigs is traditionally associated with December and feasting.

Style: High Renaissance
Saint James kneels in prayer; behind him a vigorous executioner raises his sword. James the Great was the first of Christ's apostles to die for his faith, being put to death by King Herod Agrippa in Jerusalem in AD 44.

This is one of five scenes from the predella of the Pistoia Santa Trinità Altarpiece. Four of them are in our collection: this panel, Saint Mamas in Prison thrown to the Lions, Zeno exorcising the Daughter of the Emperor Gallienus and Saint Jerome and the Lion. A fifth panel, showing the vision of Saint Augustine, is now in the State Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg.

The altarpiece was begun by Francesco Pesellino and completed by Fra Filippo Lippi after Pesellino's death. We aren't completely sure how much was finished when Pesellino died, but the predella seems to have been done by Lippi and his workshop. Like the main altarpiece, the compositions were planned in great detail, but the underdrawing is closer in style to Lippi's Seven Saints than to the underdrawing of the main panel. It seems likely that Lippi did the designs but left the painting of some of the panels to his assistants.

The predella panels were painted on a singe plank of wood which originally measured 221 cm -- larger than the main panel, but close in size to the frontal which Lippi was commissioned to paint in 1460. Either the predella was always meant to stick out at either end or the main panel has been cut down at the sides. There's damage to the paint surface in this picture from nails, driven in to hold the vertical struts of the predella.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
A bishop saint -- Saint Zeno, Bishop of Verona in the fourth century --  is exorcising a demon from a young girl; you can see the little black figure jumping out of her mouth. Her parents watch anxiously. Her father, wearing a crown, kneels beside her: he is the Roman Emperor Gallienus. According to Zeno's legend, after the saint drove this demon out the emperor allowed Zeno and all other Christians freedom to follow their religion in the Roman Empire.

This is one of five scenes from the predella of the Pistoia Santa Trinità Altarpiece. Four of them -- this panel, Saint Mamas in Prison thrown to the Lions, Beheading of Saint James the Great and Saint Jerome and the Lion -- are in our collection. A fifth panel, showing the vision of Saint Augustine, is now in the Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg. They correspond to the saints in the main panel above.

The altarpiece was begun by Francesco Pesellino and completed by Fra Filippo Lippi after Pesellino's death. We aren't completely sure how much was finished when Pesellino died, but the predella seems to have been done by Lippi and his workshop. Like the main altarpiece, the compositions were planned in great detail, but the underdrawing is closer in style to Lippi's Seven Saints than to the underdrawing of the main panel. It seems likely that Lippi did the designs but left the painting of some of the panels to his assistants.

A single plank of wood, originally measuring 221 cm, was used for the predella. This was larger than the main panel but a similar size to the altar frontal which Lippi was commissioned to paint in 1460. Perhaps the predella was always meant to be longer than the panel above it, or perhaps that panel was cut down at the sides at some point.

Like the panel showing  Saint James being beheaded, the paint surface has been damaged by nails, driven in from the front to support wooden struts behind.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
The Virgin Mary sits on an elaborate throne, holding the infant Christ on her knee. She is dressed in blue -- the colour of heaven -- and red, her robe puddling on the stone ledge beneath her feet. She looks lovingly down at the naked Christ Child, who raises his hand in blessing and in turn looks downwards at the viewer. Angels kneel in adoration on either side, while two more on the lower level make heavenly music with pipes and a viol.

This painting of the Virgin and Child enthroned was once the central element of a large polyptych possibly made for the oratory of S. Pietro in Vincoli, Faenza (other panels from the altarpiece are also in the National Gallery's collection). In it, heaven and earth mingle. The Virgin is shown as Queen of Heaven, although she has no crown: behind her is a green silk cloth of honour, such as was hung behind medieval and Renaissance royalty. It forms a canopy over her head, and has been folded so that its creases make a pattern of squares. The cloth evidently runs under the throne -- its front edge hangs down over the lintel of an elegant but implausible stone structure with a doorway at its centre and stone steps which extend into the altarpeice's side panels. At the base, the structure projects forwards to make a seat for the angelic musicians.

An earthly if imaginary landscape is visible through the door -- a rolling plain framed by tall slender trees and populated by a number of exotically dressed figures. A man blows a trumpet, a soldier holds a long spear and two figures stand talking next to a man on a horse. On the shore a boat is moored; in the distance a small island with blue towers and spires rises from the water.

A fascination with complex stepped architecture had long been a feature of Ferrarese painting, as can be seen in Cosimo Tura's The Virgin and Child Enthroned or Francesco del Cossa's Saint Vincent Ferrer. Following the example of his teacher, Ercole de' Roberti, Costa had in 1497 devised a similar, though even more elaborate, architectural structure for the Ghedini chapel (S. Giovanni in Monte, Bologna), with a landscape seen through a doorway beneath the Virgin's throne and fictive reliefs showing biblical and mythological scenes. Here he chose a simpler setting, with two oval reliefs on either side of the doorway. These show the presentation of the Virgin in the Temple and the marriage of the Virgin, the two chief events in her life prior to the Annunciation. Perhaps the Annunciation was represented in some way on the original frame.

Style: High Renaissance
This modello, or detailed oil study, is one of a group of 12 -- ten of which are in the National Gallery's collection -- that Giordano made in preparation for the ceiling frescoes in the Palazzo Medici Riccardi in Florence in 1682--85. This one corresponds with the group in the corner of the barrel-vaulted ceiling of the grand Galleria, between the entrance and window wall.

The main figure represents Fortitude (or Courage), one of the four Cardinal Virtues first identified by the philosopher Plato and later adopted by the Roman Catholic Church. One Virtue is depicted in each of the four corners of the Galleria and they form part of a continuous frieze of allegorical and mythological scenes. In the finished fresco, four of the Medici family depicted in the centre of the ceiling are also given attributes representing each of the Virtues.

Fortitude appears just left of centre here, with two of her emblems: a lion (strength and courage) and a fallen column. The column is an allusion to the Biblical story of Samson: blinded and bound to a pillar, Samson prayed for a final burst of strength and brought down the temple on himself and his enemies. Honour crowns Fortitude with a laurel wreath; he also bears the palm of victory, brought to him by an eagle. This would have had associations with Jupiter, king of the gods, especially since it has arrived on a storm cloud (thunderbolts are another of his attributes). To the left is Constancy, resting on an anchor and proving her powers of endurance by holding her hand in a flaming brazier. The cowering figure wearing a deer skin represents Fear, and the figure reclining in the centre foreground is probably Misery (or Calamity). The heroic figure of Valour, stands on the right; Victory sits on a globe above him, holding a standard and a pomegranate. Peace, meanwhile, with a flaming torch and olive branch, is sharply foreshortened as she descends to earth.

In each of the other areas of the fresco representing the Virtues, Giordano made a key change in the posture of the central figure. In the modelli, each of the Virtues looks downwards; in the fresco, presumably revised at the request of his patron, the Marquess Francesco Riccardi, Giordano has twisted the head and torso of each to look up and back towards the aerial figures above. These alterations better suit the curvature of the ceiling and inject more energy and dynamism into the design, sending the eye up towards the centre of the room.

Fortitude is the one exception. In the fresco she has the same downward gaze as in the modello. Giordano may have painted this fresco first, and only subsequently decided that the pose was too static, making the necessary alterations to the others. He did make a couple of other changes in the fresco: the eagle’s cloud is different, billowing much higher than it does in the modello, and the bird's neck is significantly elongated, so that it looks upwards more dynamically.

Style: Baroque, Academic
A wealthy family enjoy coffee beside a fountain in parkland. The mother offers a spoon from her cup to her little daughter, while the father sits beside them holding the tray as their servant pours coffee from the pot into his cup. The painting is more likely to be a genre scene than a portrait as none of the figures shows any awareness of the viewer, as would be usual in a portrait.

This painting used to be known as 'La Tasse de Chocolat' (‘The Cup of Chocolate’) until it was noticed that the pot is one generally used for serving coffee. This suggestion is supported by the presence of the sugar pot on the tray. Sugar lumps, as shown here, would be added to coffee rather than hot chocolate. When sugar was added to chocolate it was always in powdered form rather than in lumps. As further evidence, when a version of the painting was shown at the 1742 Salon, it was described as: ‘A lady in a garden having coffee with children.’

Drinking coffee was advised in the morning and after lunch. The direction of the light in the painting suggests that this is a morning scene. People who drank coffee for pleasure rather than for medical reasons usually had it served on coffee trays in cups made of porcelain, glass or faience. In this painting, the sugar bowl and the cups and saucers appear to be of early eighteenth-century Saint-Cloud soft-paste porcelain. It has been suggested that the subject matter of this picture indicates the importance that wealthy families attached to educating a child’s taste in coffee drinking.

It is possible that the painting was intended as part of a set for a decorative scheme by one or more artists, but we do not know for certain if this was the case. If so, the picture may have been intended to represent Taste in a series of the five senses.

The fashion for painting Parisian society at leisure had been boosted by the exhibition of Watteau's Gersaint’s Shop Sign (Charlottenburg Palace, Berlin). The poses of the father and mother in Lancret's painting are similar to those of the woman leaning on the counter and the sales lady in Watteau’s work, while the servant holding the coffee pot resembles in reverse Watteau’s shop owner. However, it is unclear whether Lancret was consciously borrowing from Watteau at this late stage of his career. If so, he did it with great imagination to create a painting entirely different in tone and subject matter from anything by Watteau.

The sentiment displayed by the figures, their solid positioning in space, the compositional balance between the triangle made by the family group and the circular form of the fountain and the play of strong colours across the picture’s surface make this one of Lancret's most accomplished paintings.

Style: Baroque, Rococo