wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
A young saint has been locked up with four lions. This is Saint Mamas of Caesarea, a Greek martyr who was tortured and executed for his faith by the Roman Emperor Aurelian. According to his legend he was imprisoned and then thrown to lions -- although not at the same time, as here. In some versions he later tamed a lion which remained with him as a companion (Saint Jerome, who also appears in this altarpiece, did the same).

This is one of five scenes from the predella of the Pistoia Santa Trinità Altarpiece. Four of these -- this panel, Beheading of Saint James the Great, Saint Zeno exorcising the Daughter of the Emperor Gallienus and Saint Jerome and the Lion -- are in our collection. A fifth panel, showing the vision of Saint Augustine, in now in the Hermitage Museum, St Petersburg.

The altarpiece was begun by Francesco Pesellino and completed after his death by Fra Filippo Lippi. We aren't sure how much was finished by Pesellino's death, but the predella seems to have been done by Lippi. Like the main altarpiece, the predella 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.

A singe 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.

Saint Mamas is very rarely shown in Tuscan painting and he is given a very prominent position in the main panel. He was included at the special request of Pero ser Landi, the treasurer of the confraternity of priests who commissioned the panel, who was especially devoted to him. Landi was in disgrace -- for financial mismanagement and for making too many trips to Florence to see how the painting was getting on -- by 1457, before the commission was given to Lippi. By that time it was presumably too late to edit Saint Mamas out of the composition.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
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 are currently displayed in two frames in groups of six.

A barefoot young man sits holding a sheaf of corn he has cut in one hand and his scythe in the other. The sleeves of his blue jacket are rolled up and a straw hat shades his face, suggesting that this little painting represents one of the summer months. We think it may be June, when grain crops are harvested in northern Italy, where this picture was painted.

Style: High Renaissance
A still-burning ember from a long-extinguished clay pipe lies on a stone shelf. The pipe projects from the open visor of an overturned helmet, and crosses an overturned hourglass. These objects are meant to be seen upright; to see them upset in this way is designed to be disturbing.  The hard, white line of the pipe coming from the black void of the visor also gives a feeling of unease. This is a still life, but not the usual serene composition of priceless objects made for quiet contemplation.

The costly items beside the helmet catch our attention, but the seemingly precarious arrangement does nothing to suggest harmony: there is nothing tranquil here. Jan Jansz. Treck shows a wine jug made of gleaming Rhenish stoneware and a polished black lacquer box. He has included musical instruments -- a recorder, a viol and its bow -- and a silk scarf made with rich colours and silver and gold thread. But a line that descends from the jaw of the skull and down through the recorder ends in a drawing of a man upside down, tipping off the shelf. The scarf is creased up and also likely to drop to the floor. The seal of a document dangles in space and the lacquer box seems almost like a deep black hole in the centre of the composition.

Placed on a casually folded book of music are a straw and a shell containing liquid for blowing bubbles; this was, at the time, a well-known symbol for the brevity of life. And slipping down between the jug and an old book is the title page of a play by the seventeenth-century writer Theodore Rodenburgh, the translation of which is ‘Evil is its Own Reward’.

Above them all is a grinning skull, also overturned, stained with age, some of its teeth missing, and wearing the straw remains of 'the garland that withers on the brow'. Treck's complex but sombre picture is a vanitas, a type of still life that holds a moral message. The name comes from the biblical verse: 'Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher, vanity of vanities: all is vanity' (Ecclesiastes 1: 2). Ecclesiastes is one of the most morally instructive books in the Old Testament and was studied and preached on in seventeenth-century Holland.

This was intended as a philosophers' picture, to be examined, discussed and interpreted by its viewers. They would have appreciated the detail and accuracy of each item in the painting, admired and understood how the artist used light and shade to present the texture of each precious article. They also would have understood that the painting is a warning both to them and to the less aware: life is short and human ambition, luxury and greed -- the wearing of glamorous garments, drinking wine and smoking -- are worthless in the face of inevitable death. We, like the bubbles and the smoke, disappear into thin air.

Yet while the painting reminds us of the vanity of all human endeavour, it also drives home the point that while the actors, the artists, the poets and the music makers may one day die, the arts -- and Treck’s painting -- will endure.

Style: Baroque
This is the final scene in the series of paintings The Four Times of Day by Lancret. The painting was etched and engraved in reverse by Nicolas de Larmessin III as part of his series The Four Hours of Day, completed by February 1741.

By the silvery light of a spring or summer moon a group of women are bathing together in a woodland pond. The secluded bosky setting makes them look like the moon goddess Diana and her nymphs. Two of the women stand in the pond up to their calves. One is about to splash another lady who is lying on the ground with one foot in the pond, apparently testing the water. The other lady standing in the water covers her breast with her chemise and looks to her right as though she has heard a noise among the trees. One lady rubs her foot, apparently about to get out from the flat-bottomed boat, while another in the boat wrings out water from the hem of her shift.

Attached to the boat is a cane or metal framework, which could be draped with cloth to provide a degree of privacy for its occupants. Lancret would have known such boats called toues that were moored in the Seine. They were covered by a large awning and had a small ladder enabling occupants to climb down into the water to swim or simply to stand in the river, supported by underwater platforms. When the picture was painted, it was still believed that water penetrated the body and so affected its organs and functions, which may explain why the women are entering the pond so cautiously even though it is evidently very shallow.

Evening is in poor condition. Larmessin’s print suggests that it was once  much more animated and finely detailed. The ladies are all bathing almost entirely covered up in a modest scene that avoids any public indecency. It is possible that Lancret himself covered the previously exposed breasts of the figure seated in the foreground, and of the one standing immediately behind her. However he left exposed the breast of the lady who is furthest away.

Lancret painted a number of scenes showing women bathing – the woman in the background here also appears in his L’Eté of about 1722--5 (Hermitage, St Petersburg), Women bathing of about 1718 (Wallace Collection, London) and Les Plaisirs du Bain (Louvre, Paris) probably of the 1730s. The modest gesture of this frequently repeated stooping figure may have had its origin in the Venus de’ Medici (Uffizi, Florence), an antique marble statue well known in France though prints and through copies made in marble and bronze for Louis XIV.

Style: Baroque, Rococo
This portrait is full of gentle curves and lustrous surfaces: an ornate silver ewer stands behind a woman whose shimmering drapery falls in folds around her. She fixes us with a piercing gaze as she leans against a table and toys with the closed fan in her right hand. We don't know the woman's identity, but her elegant costume alludes to her wealth and status. She is outdoors, or possibly standing at the edge of an architectural portico or archway, and the sky behind her is cloudy.

This portrait was long attributed to the celebrated Neapolitan artist Francesco Solimena, but this changed when it entered the National Gallery's collection in 1955 -- it was thought instead to be the work of an anonymous painter from Naples. However, recent conservation and cleaning revealed the painting’s high quality, and it has now been reattributed to Solimena. Another picture, A Female Figure resting on a Sword was accepted as being by Solimena when it entered the Gallery's collection in 1926, but it is now thought unlikely to be by him or his studio.

Solimena was not only a portraitist but a painter of mythological and allegorical subjects, such as Dido receiving Aeneas and Cupid disguised as Ascanius and An Allegory of Louis XIV, both painted much earlier on in his career. This portrait can be dated to about 1740, when Solimena was around 80 years old. Though he adopted a darker, more sombre style in his later works, rich colouring heightened by light effects characterised his paintings throughout his career.

The portrait once belonged to the Hungarian art historian Frederick Antal, who fled to Britain from Germany when the Nazi party took power in the 1930s. It was bequeathed to the Gallery in his memory by his wife.

Style: Baroque, Rococo
This painting depicts the mythological story of the abduction of Europa, daughter of the King of Tyre, as recounted by the Roman poet Ovid in his Metamorphoses. While playing on the seashore one day, Europa was approached by a docile bull. Draping a flower garland on its horns, she unsuspectingly climbed onto its back. The bull, who was in fact the god Jupiter in disguise, carried her off to Crete -- we see the moment of her abduction here.

Guido Reni's biographer, Carlo Cesare Malvasia, cites three versions of this theme painted by Reni for great personages: one for the Duke of Guastalla, another for Charles I, King of England, and a third for King Wladislaw of Poland. The Guastalla painting has been identified as the version now in the National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa, dated to 1636--7; the Charles I Europa is now considered lost, if in fact it ever existed. The National Gallery painting has been identified as that which, according to Malvasia, was made for the King of Poland shortly before 1640, during Reni's final years. Early in 1640, the King wrote to Reni from Warsaw: 'it is not possible for us to express by any means other than our letters how pleased we are with the Europa... and how great is the esteem we have of your renowned ability.'

Here, we see the moment before Europa's alarm at being abducted turns to love. She went on to have three sons with Jupiter: Minos, Rhadamanthys and Sarpedon. Cupid is shown in the upper right with arrow primed, ready to help matters along. The myth, with its dark erotic undertones, was one of the most popular mythological subjects in painting, although the inclusion of Cupid -- absent from the Ottawa composition -- makes this example rather unusual. Cupid is also present in Veronese's The Rape of Europa, though there he is more a bystander than an active participant.

The luminous tonality and cool, pale colouring of this painting are in keeping with those associated with the artist's late style, supporting the theory that this is the work painted around 1640 for King Wladislaw. Literary sources of the time describe this period as Reni's ultima maniera, or final manner, during which his palette became notably lighter. He rendered his figures in broad strokes of pale opaque colour, giving careful attention to the statuesque elegance of poses and draperies. During this time, according to Malvasia, Reni moved away from the 'forced shadows' or shadows that 'are caused by the light that is too artificial' (as exemplified by the chiaroscuro technique used by Caravaggio and his followers). Malvasia continues: 'instead he used soft and pleasant shadows such as those produced by a clear and open light.'

The Rape of Europa formed part of the collection of the late Sir Denis Mahon, one of the great scholars, advocates and collectors of seventeenth-century Italian painting, campaigner for the arts, and major benefactor of the National Gallery. The painting was transferred to the National Gallery by the trustees of the Art Fund and of the Sir Denis Mahon Charitable Trust in 2013, along with an additional 24 works which were already on long-term loan to the Gallery.

Style: Caravaggist, Academic
A hare's carcass hangs from a fixing on a wall, a wound bloodying its soft, furry stomach. Its untethered leg flops lifelessly toward an overflowing basket of fruit, below which three dead birds -- a brace of partridges and a jay -- are displayed top-to-tail. A precious blue and white porcelain bowl containing strawberries is nestled in the pile of apricots, pears, peaches, plums and grapes, over which perches an African grey parrot. The bird playfully pinches a strand of the grape vine in its beak.

Although rather coarser than his usual work, the painting is probably by Jan Fyt, a Flemish still life, animal and flower painter. The artist has created a composition of opposites placed side by side: of flora and fauna, and of life and death. Though the exotic parrot, presumably a pet, is alive and well, we are reminded that it will eventually meet the same end as the game strung up and piled unceremoniously near it. This contrast is continued in the colour scheme of the blood red velvet table cover and the pure white cloth. Furthermore, the juicy claret-coloured grapes are given a prominent position on the same horizontal plane as the hare's bleeding wound, possibly a reference to the Eucharist and the blood of Christ.

Style: Baroque
A group gathers around a manger to adore the newborn Christ. On the right, the Virgin Mary and Joseph gaze reverently at the infant, alongside two small angels. On the left are two young boys and an old, barefooted man: they are the shepherds mentioned in the Gospel of Luke (2: 8--20). The boy wearing a hat and one of the angels appear to have seen or heard something outside the painting, possibly the arrival of the Three Kings.

The scene takes place in the ruins of a classical building rather than in the stable described in the Bible. Such ruins were often used in depictions of the Nativity to symbolise the decline of the old pagan world with the rise of Christianity. The chipped marble of the columns and the vines growing over the stone heighten the sense of the buildings’ disrepair. The arch both protects the figures and leads the eye towards a distant building and a delicately painted rural landscape.

The artist has employed a sumptuous palette, contrasting the bold red of the Virgin’s dress with the delicate pink and green hues of the angels’ robes. The humble setting is amplified by the bare ground and the ruins’ pale, earthy tones. Strong shadows in the foreground draw our attention towards the bright, radiant light falling on the Christ Child, as well as to his delicate halo. Further contrasts are found between the beautiful, idealised Virgin and the more naturalistic shepherd, whose tattered clothes and dirty, wrinkled feet remind us of his poverty. This naturalism became extremely popular in the early seventeenth century through the works of Caravaggio; the idea to silhouette the donkey against the wall to the right may have its origins in the work of Orazio Gentileschi, a follower of Caravaggio who worked in Paris. A major pentimento is visible just above the wings of the angel in green where the Virgin's head was originally painted in an earlier version of the composition.

A painting of this size would have been made for private devotion in someone's home, not for a church. It combines refined elegance with carefully observed naturalistic detail: compare, for example, the beautiful, idealised Virgin with the older shepherd’s tattered clothes and dirty, wrinkled feet. Although we aren’t sure which of the three Le Nain brothers -- Antoine, Louis and Mathieu -- painted the picture, the complexity of the subject and the scale of the composition make it one of the greatest produced by them.

Style: Baroque
Two men seated at a corner table examine a newspaper. The figure facing us points to an article, which he reads through a small magnifying glass. His right wrist is clasped by his older, monocle-wearing companion, seen in profile.

Although we are placed close to them, as if we might overhear what is being said, the exact nature of their interaction is unclear -- perhaps the central figure is pointing out a news item to his companion, who grips his arm in response. Degas seems more interested in the men's poses and gestures than telling us who they are. Several preparatory sketches in one of his notebooks dating from 1867--74 show him exploring different poses for two similar men, both from the front and in profile, although no sketch corresponds to this painting.

This small picture is essentially a drawing on cream-coloured wove paper (mounted on canvas), which has been coloured in with essence. This is oil paint from which most of the oil has been removed with blotting paper, which is then diluted with turpentine to give the effect of watercolour. Pencil marks -- some of which you can clearly see under the thinly painted newspaper and as a ruled line marking a vertical axis in the upper centre -- indicate that Degas drew the scene first and that he also made changes to the poses. For example, the right arm of the older man originally curved round his chest, away from us. His companion’s right hand was initially drawn clenched, with his fingers curled under the table, but was repainted in a pointing gesture.

Degas gives greater attention to the hands than he does to the faces, which remain sketchy. These recall the caricatures of Daumier, whose work Degas admired and collected. Degas uses a limited range of colour -- primarily thinly applied pale greys and yellows and more densely painted browns and blacks. Small touches of pure white highlight particular details and areas -- the shirt collars and cuffs, the gleam of the magnifying glass, the newspaper and the table’s edge.

Dating from around 1869--71, this is an early example of Degas's cafe or cafe-concert scenes, which became an important theme in his exploration of modern life subjects. Degas lived for most of his life in Montmartre, an area of Paris popular with artists, writers, actors and musicians. Cafes were an important part of Parisian social life, and also provided artists, including Degas, with a rich source of visual spectacle (such as cabaret), characters and ‘types’.

Avant-garde artists had their favourite venues. In the late 1860s Degas often accompanied Manet on his almost daily visits to the Café Guerbois. After the Franco-Prussian War of 1870--1, Manet changed his allegiance to the Nouvelles Athènes, where Courbet had been a regular in the 1850s. Degas and other artists often joined him there every Thursday. Although not as celebrated as these two cafes, the Café de Châteaudun shown here was also a popular venue for artists.

Style: Impressionist, Realist
The subject of this painting has been much debated, but it is generally thought to show an imagined view of a past and primitive society. Cranach made a number of similar paintings from 1527 to 1535, though other versions show a more densely populated scene.

Two pairs of men are fighting, but the presence of women with children adds a disturbing sense of domesticity to the violent scene. The woman reclining on the grass appears unaware of -- or unconcerned by -- the fighting behind her, as if Cranach is implying that violence is a common occurrence. The two standing men are separated from the rest of the figures by their darker skin tones and long beards; their weather-beaten appearance and unkempt facial hair could suggest they are the most wild of all the figures. The two other men, lying on the ground with their arms raised defensively, are in positions of vulnerability.

Since the twentieth century it has been assumed that the origin of the subject lies in a classical source, and there are a number of texts that Cranach could have used as inspiration. The Ancient Greek author Hesiod wrote about the evolutionary ages of man -- the Golden Age, Silver Age, Bronze Age and Iron Age -- and described the people of the Silver Age as weak and uncaring (hence why the painting has been given this title). Cranach most likely knew Hesiod's work through an adaption of the text by a contemporary German humanist writer. In his Metamorphoses, Roman poet Ovid sets out the deterioration of man from the Golden Age, and describes forest dwellers who live away from the rest of society during the Bronze Age and Iron Age. Despite the similarities with these two texts, Cranach was likely drawing on a number of literary and visual sources, as well as contemporary ideas about and perceptions of earlier civilisations.

Style: High Renaissance
Even as a young man, Rembrandt was interested in the depiction of old age and aged people. He painted them as if every etched line, every crooked bone, every little brown mark on every hand were important, badges of their owner's longevity, experience and wisdom.

In this painting, a cold, grey light creeps through an open window into a room that is itself very old -- no glass in the window, a heavy wooden shutter, an open fire. The shadows are deep. There's just a glint of light on an earthenware pot tipped on its side and on the back and side of an old man sitting by the window. He sits wrapped in a long robe with a fur collar, the ruffled neck of an old shirt cupping his wrinkled cheek and grey beard. His head is bound in a white headdress with a black cap on top. He is very still: his hands are clasped on his lap and his head lowered as if deep in thought. This is Tobit. An apocryphal story tells us that he was a good and holy man, but that God made him blind to test his faith.

Tobit's wife Anna is closer to us but turned away. She looks down at her hands, busy winding wool on a frame, an occupation that requires great patience. The flames from the fire and her fingers are the only things moving. It is as if the whole room is waiting. The ivy clinging at the window suggests endurance, patience -- 'holding on'.

The old couple are waiting for their son Tobias, who has gone on a long journey with their dog to find money owed to Tobit in order to ease their poverty. Tobias has many adventures, finds a wife and meets the Archangel Raphael, who helps him fight a huge fish. At last he returns home with the money, the wife, and the fish's entrails, which prove a cure for Tobit's blindness -- as the Archangel promised.

The tale was popular in Rembrandt's time. Tobit's faith was honoured and the Archangel Raphael was venerated as the protector of travellers and as a healer. After the return of a son after a long, dangerous journey, a picture of Tobias and his family could be commissioned as a thanksgiving, as Rembrandt's painting may have been, although rather than the return of someone loved, the sensitive portrayal of Tobit and Anna celebrates old age, faith and patience.

Style: Baroque