wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
The removal of Christ's body from the Cross takes place in what appears to be a shallow gilded niche. The solid background offers no respite from the horror of Christ's pale and emaciated dead body, his bloodied forehead and wounds, and the intense grief of his family and companions. The setting, with its stiff geometric decoration around the arch, may be intended to resemble contemporary carved tabernacles, which included this kind of elaborate tracery and contained sculpted figures within.

The effort required to manipulate a body stiff with rigor mortis is emphasised by the awkwardness of the poses of the two men on the ladder. A nimble boy at the very top attempts to support Christ's weight while clinging on to the arm of the Cross, hooking one ankle over it to prevent himself from falling headlong. Joseph of Arimathea, who had offered up his family tomb for Christ, supports his upper body; the movement of his cloak, which unfurls in an improbable cascade, expresses the energy of the feat. Christ's corpse is finally gathered by Nicodemus, the elderly Pharisee, who, according to the Gospels, believed that Christ was the Son of God.

The mourners are shown weeping, the teardrops glistening on their cheeks. The Virgin Mary's knees have given way beneath her and she is slumped on the ground, supported by Saint John the Evangelist, the figure with wild hair in the red cloak. Mary Magdalene clasps a tense, bony hand to her head in shock and grief. She too is barely able to stand. Her attribute -- a pot of ointment with which she anointed Christ's feet in recognition of his divinity (Luke 7: 36--50; John 12: 1--8) -- is at the foot of the Cross. The episode was regarded as foretelling Christ's death, as ointment was also used for corpses. A skull lies next to it, a reminder that the place where Christ was crucified was called Golgotha, meaning the place of the skull; this was where, according to tradition, Adam was buried. Christ, known as the second Adam, had come to redeem mankind from Adam's sin through his resurrection.

Viewers of this panel, which was probably made for use in private worship (though we cannot be sure), would have been certain of Christ's resurrection even though this intense painting presents an unflinching depiction of the horror and sorrow of his death.

Style: High Renaissance
After being condemned to death, Christ was forcibly crowned with a wreath of thorns. This was the Roman soldiers' attempt to humiliate him as, amongst other things, Christ was accused of claiming to be ‘the king of the Jews’.

Close-up views of Christ in this moment, when he was tortured before the Crucifixion, were very popular in the fifteenth century. They confronted viewers with Christ's suffering -- here, blood dribbles through his hair and down his neck -- encouraging their empathy and leading to deeper devotion. The square format of this picture is unusual. The frame is original, and is affixed to the painting; both it and the reverse are painted blood red, a reference to Christ's torture and crucifixion.

The inscription on Christ's halo -- not always included in images like this -- is the abbreviated Greek version of Christ’s name, meaning 'Jesus Christ of Nazareth'. The inscription in Latin around the edges comes from the New Testament book of Philippians (2:10): 'that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of things in heaven, and things in earth, and things under the earth'. The same verse is sometimes inscribed on the plaque of Saint Bernardino, a fervent preacher active in Siena in the fifteenth century who promoted devotion to the name of Jesus. The connection is not surprising given that the artist, Matteo di Giovanni, was from Siena.

When it was purchased by the Gallery in 1854, the painting was thought to be by the fifteenth-century Umbrian painter, Niccolo di Liberatore, known then as Niccolo di Foligno (Foligno being his hometown). Some years later it was recognised as a work by Matteo, but this idea was rejected when it was cleaned in the mid-twentieth century; it was then suggested that the painting was actually made in modern times. The restorer was sceptical about the picture surface which he noted was ‘unpolished’. The painting's finish is certainly not glossy, but this matt appearance can be found in the work of other Sienese painters of the period, such as Benvenuto di Giovanni’s Virgin and Child and one of Matteo’s other works in our collection, Saint Sebastian.

Technical analysis undertaken in 2009 confirmed that the pigments used are the same as those commonly used in the fifteenth century; the green in the crown of thorns, for example, is made from a particular type of the mineral called malachite, which is also found in many of the Gallery's fifteenth-century paintings. The underdrawing here, in which strong parallel lines indicate areas in shadow, is very similar to that in other paintings attributed to Matteo.  This is particularly evident along the right side of the neck.

Style: Early Renaissance
When this painting was purchased as an El Greco in 1919, the National Gallery was accused of buying a picture by a madman: people were shocked by the acid colours and distorted forms that the artist used to heighten the drama of his picture.

El Greco was very successful in his own lifetime, however, and employed numerous assistants to help him produce enough works to satisfy the demand for his pictures. This one was probably painted by his studio after El Greco's original, now in the Toledo Museum of Art, Ohio.

The scene shows Christ's struggle between his humanity and his divine mission. He has retreated to Gethsemane, an olive grove just outside Jerusalem, to pray; only a few olive tree saplings make reference to the setting. Christ knows he will soon be arrested and killed. He fears death, but understands that his sacrifice will redeem mankind. El Greco expresses Christ's spiritual and emotional torment through his surroundings, where the natural and the supernatural do battle. A full moon glows, illuminating the surrounding clouds, while another source of light -- a much brighter, supernatural light -- shines down on Christ.

A heavenly vision of an angel holding a chalice has appeared before him. In the Gospel accounts of the episode, Christ prays that he will have the courage to drink from the 'cup of suffering'. In the distance we can see Roman soldiers making their way to arrest him; the Crucifixion is inevitable. The picture endorses the importance of the sacrament of the Eucharist -- the cup also represents the chalice that holds Eucharistic wine -- and obedience to God's will.

Three of Christ's disciples are shown cocooned in what could be clouds or a sort of cave. They are the ultimate sign of human weakness: they have not been able to stay awake to support Christ. Their unusual oval enclosure might be a reference to the Byzantine painting tradition which El Greco, a native Cretan, had been trained in, where figures are enclosed in abstract shapes to separate them from other parts of the narrative.

El Greco made the original painting upon which this is based when he was in Toledo, a town about 40 miles from Madrid where he had settled by 1577. El Greco and his studio produced several versions of this composition, suggesting it was popular among his clients. They clearly admired the artist's ability to communicate the beliefs of the Catholic faith so vividly through his expressive painting style.

Style: High Renaissance
A friar stands on a marble plinth, holding a lily -- a symbol of his chastity -- and a book. This is a thirteenth-century saint, Anthony of Padua, who wears the grey habit of the Observant Franciscans, a strict branch of the Franciscan Order known in England as the Grey Friars. He once formed part of the lower left side of a large polyptych (multi-panelled altarpiece), painted between about 1456 and 1461 by Giorgio Schiavone for the funerary chapel of the wealthy Roberti family in the church of San Nicolò in Padua.

The Franciscan Order was founded in the thirteenth century. Its friars took religious vows but were not confined to a monastery -- they lived in towns and cities, where they provided educated preachers and teachers for a growing urban population. Franciscans took vows of poverty and travelled from place to place, preaching and living on what they were given by their listeners. The three knots on the belt symbolise their vows of poverty, chastity and obedience.

Born into a wealthy family in Lisbon, Saint Anthony was an educated man -- he had studied theology and Latin before joining the Franciscan Order. Renowned both as a preacher and a teacher; he had lectured at universities in France before settling in Padua. Anthony died in 1231 and was declared a saint the following year. Almost immediately, building work was begun on a large church dedicated to him in Padua; he became the city's glossary:patron saint.

Anthony’s learning is symbolised by the book, which perhaps would also have reminded medieval viewers of one of the best-known stories about his life. According to his legend, a valuable book of psalms -- Anthony had annotated it for use in teaching his students -- was taken by a novice who wished to leave the Order. When Anthony prayed, the thief not only returned the book but rejoined the Franciscans, and Anthony himself became the patron saint of lost things. The book itself is very similar to the one in Schiavone's A Female Saint; perhaps the artist had such a book in his studio.

The saint's bare toes peep out from under his robe -- Franciscans wore sandals in both summer and winter -- and one juts out over the edge of the plinth, linking the sacred space of the altarpiece with the real space of the viewer. The plinth is painted at an angle to suggest three-dimensional space and Saint Anthony casts a shadow on it, as if he were a solid figure rather than a painting.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
This large painting tells the dramatic New Testament story of Saint Paul at the moment of his conversion to Christianity. The saint, originally called Saul, had persecuted the Jewish people in Jerusalem who followed the 'New Way', as early Christianity was known.

On the road to Damascus Saul was struck down by a vision of Christ, who spoke to him: 'Saul, Saul, why persecutest thou me?...  I am Jesus. Rise and enter the city. There you will be told what to do.' When Saul stood, he was blind; he was taken by the hand into the city, where he waited. After three days a man came to him, touched his face, and told him that he'd been sent by Christ to fill Saul with the Holy Ghost. Saul's sight was restored, he was baptised with the name Paul and he started to preach the Christian message.

Dujardin has captured the moment of terror when the skies split open and heaven was revealed. The flying cloaks -- like great birds -- of two of the soldiers with him give the impression of a great wind carrying Christ's voice down to Saul. Saul's horse rolls to the ground, taking him with it. Other horses plunge and rear; a beggar in a loincloth tumbles, almost falling under their hooves. Although the tumultuous grey clouds billow and the skies behind are a threatening yellow colour, Dujardin represents heaven with a chubby little cherub. He brandishes a torch of fire, but also an olive branch, symbol of peace -- softening the message that has panicked the people below.

The drama of the scene is heightened by the flashes of light that catch the tangle of limbs, the metal of helmets, Saul's white turban and his horse's shining, dappled rump, and the ashen face of the beggar. The composition was clearly inspired by a sixteenth-century print by Antonio Tempesta, which Dujardin must have known. It shows the chaos of the moment with terrified horses, flying cloaks and weapons and a single beam of light from heaven.

Dujardin was more famous for portrayals of the Italian countryside, like A Woman with Cattle and Sheep in an Italian Landscape, than for religious works. In the Netherlands religious paintings weren't shown in the interiors of the austere, whitewashed Calvinist churches, so the picture may have been commissioned by a wealthy, devout private patron for a domestic setting. This painting of a crucial moment in Christian history is considered one of his masterpieces.

Style: Baroque
This picture, together with its companion piece Dancing Girl with Castanets, was made to decorate the dining room of the Paris apartment of one of Renoir’s most important clients, Maurice Gangnat. Of the two dancers, this figure has the more static pose. She stands with her weight slightly on her back foot, as though she is more focused on tapping out the rhythm on her tambourine while the other woman dances with her castanets. She taps only lightly, using her fingertips rather than the heel of the hand.

Renoir used Georgette Pigeot, a dressmaker who often posed for him, as a model for the figure. Her flowing costume shimmers with colour, and,  like her counterpart’s, has elements of oriental or near-Eastern style, not only in the short, gold-coloured bodice and blue and gold slippers, but in what seem to be her harem pants. These loose trousers tied above the ankle became fashionable in Paris around this time.

Style: Impressionist
This scene is an allegory of the harvest. Ceres, goddess of the earth and fertility, gathers corn with a group of winged infants, known as putti. During the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, Ceres was commonly shown crowned with a garland of corn. She often appears as one of the Four Elements (Earth) or one of the Four Seasons (Summer).

The work was probably commissioned by Claude de Bullion (1570--1640), a government official, for his Paris residence. Vouet decorated the walls and ceiling of a gallery at this house and provided paintings for the rooms at either end between 1634 and 1635, which may be when this work was created. In 1765, the French courtier Antoine-Joseph Dezallier d'Argenville (1680–1765) described three paintings by Vouet in a small study on the first floor. They showed The Hunt symbolised by Diana and Actaeon, the Wine Harvest by Silenus and satyrs, and the Corn Harvest, which may be this painting.

It is likely that studio assistants contributed to this painting given that it was placed in a room at the end of a gallery and perhaps in a subsidiary position in panelling over a door. Some parts of the composition look as though they were painted by assistants: there is a lack of finish with visible and loose brushstrokes in some areas of the landscape, the two peasants cutting corn and the putti in the foreground. The figure of Ceres has been painted with more skill and is probably by Vouet himself. The area intended for the figure of Ceres was left unpainted by the assistant responsible for painting the surrounding cornfield and trees. The identity of Vouet's assistants remains uncertain: the landscapes were perhaps painted by Frederick Scalberge and Pierre Patel (about 1605--1676), and the figures partly the work of Nicolas Chaperon (1612–1656).

Vouet spent his early career in Rome and travelled to Paris in 1627 at the request of King Louis XIII (1601--1643). In the 1630s, when this painting was probably created, Vouet was at the height of his success in Paris with an established studio of assistants.

Style: Caravaggist, Academic
This small roundel comes from a large polyptych painted by the Florentine artist Giovanni dal Ponte for the high altar of the church of San Giovanni Evangelista in Pratovecchio in Tuscany. San Giovanni was a Camaldolese nunnery, a strict reformed branch of the Benedictine Order. Other panels from the altarpiece are also in the National Gallery -- it's one of the most complete early Renaissance polyptychs in the collection.

In this roundel, the Archangel Michael holds a sword and scales. The scales are for weighing souls at the Last Judgement and the sword for fighting the devil, as can be seen in Saint Michael by Carlo Crivelli.

There is no very obvious logic for the smaller saints and scenes in the San Giovanni altarpiece, though some might have connections with nearby Camaldolese houses. Michael might be been an allusion to the church of Sant'Angelo (also called San Michele) in the neighbouring hamlet of Poppiena.

The roundel sits above Saints Bernard, Scholastica, Benedict and John the Baptist and below The Archangel Gabriel.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
This small canvas mounted on panel shows two imaginary portraits of figures from Ancient Greece. The main figure, whose bearded face is shown in profile, is the lyric poet Pindar (518--438 BC). Behind him, and in shadow, is Ictinus, the architect of the Parthenon, who lived in the mid-fifth century BC. To help us identify them, Ingres has given each the tools of his trade: Pindar, wearing a wreath of laurel leaves -- a mark of his achievement in poetry -- holds a lyre and Ictinus holds an architect’s ruler. If you look closely, you can see that Ingres has added a border of varying width to the canvas to accommodate the final composition.

Ingres had included a very similar portrait of Pindar in his monumental painting The Apotheosis of Homer, a ceiling decoration he completed in 1827 at the Louvre, Paris. The painting shows a group of over 40 figures in front of an ancient Greek temple, arranged symmetrically around the enthroned poet, Homer. When first exhibited, the painting was described as 'Homer receiving homage from all the great men of Greece, Rome and modern times'. Pindar, standing on the right of the picture, offers Homer his lyre.

More than 200 preparatory studies for The Apotheosis of Homer have survived. These reveal the wide range of sources Ingres used for the painting. The figure of a bearded man wearing a toga and carrying a lyre is probably derived from the figure of a man playing a kithara (an ancient Greek lyre)  on a Greek vase illustrating The Crowning of a Kitharist. An engraving of the vase was included in the catalogue of the collection of classical vases owned by Sir William Hamilton (1731--1803), a British antiquarian and ambassador to Naples. Published in four volumes in 1766--7, this richly illustrated catalogue -- many copies of which were hand painted -- was one of the great achievements of archaeological scholarship and a rich source book for artists and designers, including Ingres, who shared the Neoclassical taste for outline drawing. Here, Ingres does not emulate the outlines of the illustration, but instead paints Pindar using the smooth translucent glazes of oil paint. He does, however, retain the profile format for Pindar’s head.

Although Pindar was included in the 1827 Louvre ceiling painting, Ictinus was not. It is possible that this double portrait of poet and architect relates to a revised version of The Apotheosis of Homer, which Ingres never completed. A highly detailed drawing (in the Louvre) for this later version, sometimes referred to as Homère Déifié (Homer Deified), which  Ingres worked on intermittently between 1843 and 1865, does include Ictinus, although standing on the other side of Pindar. There are several small paintings, including Pindar and Ictinus, that relate to either The Apotheosis of Homer or to Homer Deified, but without exactly matching either. It is likely that Ingres painted these to sell as pictures in their own right.

Style: Neoclassical
An elderly man, his face weathered by age and his clothes ragged and patched, leans on a crutch. He looks down towards a globe or sphere, on which a scene of a country inn at dusk is painted. In his right hand he holds an earthenware pilgrim-bottle or flask – such a bottle could be attached to the waist of a traveller or pilgrim by cords (visible here hanging along the left side of the flask’s belly). These types of bottles were produced across Europe and in widespread use during the seventeenth century. The painting may have an allegorical meaning, perhaps alluding to the wisdom of the aged traveller who has seen the world.

This painting has been in Britain since the early nineteenth century. It once formed part of the distinguished collection of Sir Francis Cook at Doughty House in Richmond, where it was thought to be Spanish and attributed to Diego Velázquez. More recently it has been considered north Italian, its style being associated with the Lombard painters Giacomo Francesco Cipper and Giacomo Ceruti who both specialised in painting low-life scenes of beggars, street-sellers and vagabonds.

The picture has recently been attributed toPietro Bellotti (1625–1700), a painter of portraits and character heads who also acted as the superintendent of the Gonzaga family’s art collections and galleries in Mantua. The painting's subdued colour range and confident handling of paint, combined with the figure's expressiveness and portrayal of advanced old age, all find parallels in Bellotti's works. Born in Brescia in northern Italy, Bellotti travelled extensively to Venice, Milan and Munich. His reputation extended as far as Spain, where several of his paintings ended up; members of the Spanish court in Venice and Milan commissioned works from him in the 1650s. The fact that our painting is thought to have come from Spain – a label on the back says it was owned by Louis-Pierre de Montbrun, a famous general who served in Napoleon's army in Spain – would fit with the work having been made by Bellotti for a Spanish patron.

Style: Baroque, Academic
This characterful portrait is one of a pair with Head of a Man in Blue, also in our collection.

A man looks out, his eyes sparkling and head slightly cocked. His mouth is open, as if he is in the middle of speaking, and we can see that he has both crooked and missing teeth. A cheerful demeanour animates his face, as do the wisps of hair poking out from under his hat and the upturned tufts of his moustache.

The style and subject of this picture are typical of Giacomo Francesco Cipper, an artist who made a speciality of painting low-life scenes. The man here is evidently poor -- the sleeve of his red jacket is coming away at the seam, and the cloth has been roughly stitched along his shoulder -- but the artist’s portrayal is very sympathetic. The paint has been quickly and loosely applied without blending the daubs of colour, giving this work (and its pair) a ‘blotchy’ -- almost impressionistic -- appearance. The lively handling of paint contributes to the sense of immediacy.

Style: Baroque, Academic, Rococo