wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
The infant Bacchus, god of wine, drinks from a bowl into which a satyr squeezes grape juice representing wine. Paintings commonly show Bacchus as a drunken adult, but to show him drinking alcohol at this young age is unusual. Ovid's Metamorphoses describes how the six nymphs of Nysa take care of the infant  Bacchus in their cave and nurture him with milk (Book III: 314–15). But here there is only one woman, dressed in blue, and Bacchus is not given milk.

The painting probably shows an earlier episode, in which Bacchus’s aunt Ino watches over him (Book III: 313–14). She could be the seated woman. Her husband, Athamas, the son of the wind god Aeolus, could be the man holding Bacchus. The two young boys behind them may be their sons. The story has a tragic outcome: Juno is jealous of Ino’s pride in Bacchus and sends Ino and Athamus insane, which causes Athamus to kill one of his sons. Poussin may be alluding to this sad story in the dark clouds and goat, since goats who had eaten grapes were sacrificed.

Poussin painted an earlier version of this subject (now in the Louvre, Paris) and also The Childhood of Bacchus (now at the Musée Condé, Chantilly). The muscular poses in this painting show Poussin's study of classical sculpture. The colourful draperies contrast with the tanned skin tones and subtle shades of the foliage, and were inspired by sixteenth-century Venetian painters such as Titian and Bellini.

The original owner of this painting is unknown. It was painted in around 1628, at a time when Poussin was living in Rome and was popular with the prominent art collectors Cardinal Francesco Barberini and Cassiano dal Pozzo. The canvas is quite worn and an additional strip of canvas has been added to the top of the painting. The blue pigment used for the woman's clothing has lost its vitality and at some point a girdle of vine leaves was added to the standing man, which has now been partially removed.

Style: Baroque, Academic
In this picturesque landscape the bright blue sky and leafy trees reflect the warm climate. The path and river lead our eye towards the town in the distance with its buildings nestled into the mountain.

On the left, a seated man washes his feet in a fountain. The woman who is seated beside a shepherd on the right is pointing towards a large column, which may be part of a temple. Large basins like the one we see here were often placed near temples so that worshippers could wash their feet as a purifying ritual before entering. The shrine or small statue attached to a tree beside the road is an unusual detail. The sword and scabbard above the statue may belong to the man lying on the ground, indicating that he has recently retired from military life.

This landscape could be inspired by a description of the Vale of Tempe in the area of Thessaly in Greece, published in the Varia historia by the classical author Aelian: 'In the valley there are infinite glades, shaded completely by the leaves of the trees, which in the summer offer pleasant refuges for travellers … There are numerous springs and fountains running with cool water, delicious, and very agreeable to drink.’ This scene revives aspects of classical art: the solid appearance of the people and their drapery recalls ancient statues. This is particularly apparent in the figure of the woman walking towards the right.

When the painting was acquired by the National Gallery, the man washing was thought to be Phocion, a successful politician in ancient Greece who was mentioned in the famous stories written by Plutarch. But this is now considered unlikely, and the picture is not believed to illustrate a scene from ancient literature.

Painted in around 1648, this work may have been owned by Jean Pointel, a Parisian merchant who was one of Poussin's most important patrons. Little is known about where the picture was before it arrived in England, where it was bought by Sir George Beaumont in 1785. It was among the first paintings to be purchased by the National Gallery in 1826.

In 1821 the English landscape painter John Constable wrote that this was 'the most affecting picture I almost ever stood before.'

Style: Baroque, Academic
A little boy in red stockings and an elaborately embroidered gown looks on as Joseph places a gold ring upon the Virgin's finger. A priest -- wearing a heavily-gilded and jewelled cloak, and a white hat with a gilded border -- joins the couple's hands; the Virgin and her attendants, in equally splendid gowns, are accompanied by minstrels playing trumpets and drums, known as nakers. The haloed figures in simple robes are Mary's parents, Joachim and Anna.

The story of the competition leading to the Virgin's marriage comes from a thirteenth-century text known as the Golden Legend. Her suitors presented wooden rods at the Temple and the man whose branch miraculously blossomed was to be the victor. Joseph is barefoot; his rod has sprouted leaves and the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove has landed on it. Behind him, unsuccessful suitors hold their barren rods. On the far left of the scene one of them breaks his over his knee in frustration.

The artist of this little panel has signed it in gold: NICHOLAVS. BONACHVRSI. DE SENIS. ME P[I]NXIT ('Niccolò di Buonaccorso of Siena painted me'). Niccolò was one of the most gifted Sienese painters but very few of his works survive. Those that do are painted as here, with exquisite detail and vibrant colours. The Marriage of the Virgin was not a common scene in Siena but it was popular in Florence, suggesting that this work was made for a Florentine patron. This might explain why Niccolò included his hometown in his signature.

Colourful details match the celebratory nature of the event: striking chequered red, yellow and blue carpet woven with birds has been laid upon the green and yellow stone of an open courtyard. Beyond the town is a lush orchard. A palm laden with dates towers over the central arch in the distance. A pine tree and an orange tree are visible through the balustrade -- decorated with tri-lobed arches -- that encloses the scene. Similar delicate architectural features, resembling those found in fourteenth-century churches, adorn the windows of the upper storeys of the surrounding buildings. The gilded frame with its multi-lobed arches and decorative details complements the painted architecture.

It is likely that this panel formed the central image in a series of three paintings depicting scenes from the life of the Virgin. The other scenes show the Virgin as a child in The Presentation of the Virgin (Uffizi, Florence) and  The Coronation of the Virgin by Christ after her death (Lehman Collection, Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York). All three are also decorated on the reverse with silver leaf and painted with the same diamond pattern suggesting the backs were intended to be visible. They may have been joined together to form a portable altarpiece but no evidence of any hinges remains.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
A wooded bank and lake open onto a vista of trees and pasture. At the left two boys are fishing. A fishing rod leans on the bank, and the right-hand boy is peering into a basket, perhaps at his catch. The scene is purely imaginary, and would have been painted in the studio. It is in fact the last in a series of four versions of the same composition, all with the title Fishing for Crayfish. This canvas is broadly handled, thickly and loosely painted, with rapid, sketchy brushwork particularly a feature of the sky. In handling the work can be compared with Corot's late landscapes, particularly in the painting of the trees and sky. Like Corot, Daubigny sketched the trees in thin paint before painting the sky around them, lastly adding foliage with touches of green.

The most striking feature is the treatment of the sunset at the right. The sky is tinged pink at the horizon, and the fiery colours of the setting sun -- yellows, peaches, pinks and red -- are reflected in the water between the trees. Daubigny added these at a late stage in painting, as the touches of paint appear to have been squeezed between the dense tree trunks.

The artist painted a number of sunsets as part of his repertoire of river landscapes, and a similar effect can be found in his Landscape with Cattle by a Stream. In another late painting, The Cooper (private collection), which he showed at the Salon of 1872, he again explores the effect of light shining through gaps between tree trunks. The critic Jules Claretie compared the effect to that of fireworks: ‘this sun which pierces the foliage of the trees makes its mark and bursts out of the frame like fireworks’.

Style: Barbizon
A crowd of saints dressed in glowing colours gather on an elaborately decorated floor. Their crowns and haloes glisten with burnished gold, and gold embroidery edges their robes and vestments. This is the company of heaven as imagined in fourteenth-century Italy. Many hold objects or wear clothes which would have allowed the Renaissance viewer to identify them immediately: saints, who were seen as able to intervene with God on behalf of sinful humankind, were shown with attributes that related to their lives or deaths.

This painting was part of a very large and complex polyptych (a multi-panelled altarpiece) painted by Lorenzo Monaco for the monastery of San Benedetto fuori della Porta Pinti in Florence. Other panels from the same altarpiece are also in our collection.

Like many early Renaissance paintings, the altarpiece has suffered drastic changes in appearance over the centuries. The saints are looking at the coronation of the Virgin at the centre of the altarpiece; there were more adoring saints on the other side. These are now separate, but they were originally constructed and painted as a single panel (you can just see -- on the far right of this painting -- the wings of angels who surround the Virgin's throne). We don't know exactly when it was split into three, but at that point two vertical bands about seven centimetres wide were lost between the side and main panels. These missing sections have been reconstructed in the gallery on structural elements of the modern frame.

San Benedetto was a Camaldolese monastery and the saints chosen were those who were important to the monks. On the far left is Saint Benedict, founder of the Benedictine Order. He holds a book inscribed with words from his Rule, or code of practice, which the Camaldolites followed, and wears white in place of his usual black, as did they. Beside him, in a pink robe over a hair tunic, is Saint John the Baptist, patron saint of Florence. He was a hermit and a role model for the austere Camaldolites. Next to him is Saint Matthew, whose book has words from his Gospel. In the back rows are other patron saints of Florence, along with Saint Francis, founder of the Franciscan Order; Saint Stephen, with the rocks of his martyrdom balanced on his head; and Saint Paul, carrying the sword with which he was beheaded.

The bright colours and gilding are typical of painting in Florence around 1400. Although the figures are painted to look three-dimensional, and the throne and floor are shown in a basic linear perspective, the light does not fall consistently from one direction and the drapery folds are arranged across the picture in rhythmic patterns. Lorenzo Monaco wasn't trying to show a real space, but was using decorative effects to evoke the kingdom of heaven.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
Loosely painted in vibrant colours against a plain brown background, a still life of fruit is set on a tabletop covered with a crisp white tablecloth. Monet places two brightly coloured apples in the foreground, one red and the other red and green, shimmering with touches of white paint. In the wicker basket lined with vine leaves, four pears are meticulously stacked. A fifth stands to the left, partly behind three bunches of plump grapes. Monet carefully places a source of light to the left of the composition, as the shadows of both apples and pears fall sharply to the right.

The work was painted in 1867 when Monet was 27 years old. Like his contemporaries Edouard Manet and Paul Cezanne, in his early works Monet took inspiration from the 18th-century artist Jean-Siméon Chardin (1699-1779). Rediscovered in the 1860’s, Chardin was greatly admired for his modest still lifes consisting of humble domestic objects such as fruit, poultry, pots and kitchen utensils, placed on a table or ledge. Like Chardin, Monet would depict homely objects, but unlike that artist he would often depict his still lifes on top of white table linen. This simple cloth was possibly inspired by Manet’s still lifes of the 1860’s, in which he also included draped linen. Where Chardin’s still lifes are austerely arranged, Monet would intricately stage the fruits to create a dynamic composition. Here, the triangular pile of pears is placed strategically in the wicker basket, adding a diagonal line to the otherwise horizontal arrangement. In addition, the artist also carefully balances the variety of colours, contrasting the red and green apple with the yellow pears and multi-coloured grapes.

But why would Monet choose to paint a still life at a time when he was also working on more complex group portraits and vibrant seascapes? It is possible that he did so because they were a genre popular with dealers and collectors. In the same year, his submissions to the influential Paris Salon were rejected. Possibly, to conform with the more conservative trajectory of the Salon jury and Parisian collectors, Monet chose a subject and style he knew would be appreciated. Another possibility is that the work was painted simply on a rainy day, when the artist couldn’t go outside. After all, for most of 1867, Monet was living in Saint-Adresse on the Normandy coast, where wet summers are no exception. Whether a strategic choice or the result of bad weather, Monet’s still lifes are a remarkable fusion of traditional genre and personal vision.

Style: Impressionist
A bishop saint, a mitre on his head and his crosier leaning casually against his shoulder, stands reading a book. This is Saint Nicholas of Bari, an enormously popular saint who is thought to have lived in the fourth century, and about whom almost nothing certain is known. His popularity was based on the miracles recounted in his legendary Acts: he was reputed to have given bags of gold to three girls as dowries to save them from prostitution, and to have revived three boys who were murdered in a brine-tub by a butcher.

This is the right-hand panel of an altarpiece by the Sienese painter Benvenuto di Giovanni, other parts of which are also in our collection: The Virgin and Child and Saint Peter. In some ways the altarpiece looks more traditional than Benvenuto's Borghesi altarpiece, an earlier work for the church of San Domenico in Siena (1475/1477--78). The Borghesi altarpiece has a fully painted background and pala format, which had become popular during the later fifteenth century, while the National Gallery altarpiece is a triptych with figures set against a gilded background. This more traditional form was presumably the preference of the commissioner, although Benvenuto has modernised it by giving all three panels a rectangular format, unlike the ogee tops of his Montepertuso triptych of 1475 (now in the parish church of Vescovado di Murlo, near Siena).

The artist was also keenly interested in achieving a greater naturalism and sense of monumentality. Both saints are very large by comparison with the Virgin and Christ Child in the centre, while Nicolas's flowing cope, bowed head and slightly bent knee give a feel of the plasticity and mass of a three-dimensional form. His crosier even casts a shadow on the marble of the parapet and his foreshortened book with its fluttering pages creates a sense of perspective. The decorative parapet unites all three panels into a single, coherent space in spite of the burnished gold background. At the same time, the level of detail reflects the strongly decorative qualities of Sienese painting in the late fifteenth century, for example the careful rendering of the cloth of gold cope and the fringed strip of embroidered saints along its edge, the extraordinarily delicate embroidery on the saint's white gloves and the shadows cast by the pearls on the mitre.

Style: Early Renaissance
This man may be a member of the Averoldi, an important family from Brescia, who once owned the portrait. He wears a red wool tunic with a striped weave. The lack of tailoring and softness of the fabric does nothing to conceal his paunch.

The lining of the cloak or coat appears to be fox fur. Moretto has accurately observed and depicted the patches of grey within the white belly fur and their repetition, indicating the number of pelts used. The white in the fur and the striped pattern of the fabric were painted wet-in-wet, a technique favoured by Moretto. Fox was not a very valuable fur and is less common in male portraits of this period than the more luxurious lynx or snow leopard, seen in Moretto's Portrait of a Young Man. The sitter may have been a man of simple tastes, or wished to appear as one.

The style of dress and hair, and the somewhat routine approach, suggest that this is probably a late work by Moretto, dating from the mid-1540s. The way in which the cloudy sky has been painted is similar to that in Moretto's painted shutters of about 1540. It is very unusual for a three-quarter-length portrait at this date to have a background consisting entirely of sky.

The man appears to be kneeling on his left knee with his hands joined in prayer. His pose suggests that the painting was once part of a larger canvas or ensemble. The canvas has been cut down on both sides and the upper edge, although we cannot tell by how much. The portrait may be a memorial for a family burial chapel, or perhaps a donor portrait from a much larger altarpiece. However, the direction of the man's gaze, towards us rather than ahead at a sacred scene, would be unusual in a donor portrait. An old copy of the picture, the whereabouts of which is unknown, shows the man kneeling before a crucifix and an open book of psalms on a carpet-covered table. However, these additions may not relate to the original format of the National Gallery's painting.

The light source is from the right, which is unusual in a portrait and suggests the painting was made for a specific location. It may be that it was designed to hang on the side wall of a chapel, or at least near a religious image towards which the sitter directs his prayers. There are only a few independent portraits of sitters praying, but Girolamo Bedoli's painting of youths at prayer at Castle Howard, Yorkshire, is an example which may have hung in a small chapel or domestic oratory. It is also possible that the National Gallery's picture was part of a larger painting of a whole family at prayer, as we see in Titian's Vendramin Family.

The painting is quite damaged. It may have been over-cleaned during the nineteenth century, and the paint surface was crushed during relining in 1962. There is quite a lot of cracking, and some of the old retouchings where damage has been repainted have since discoloured. This is especially noticeable in the white cuffs. The varnish has also darkened, affecting the green of the cloak and rose of the tunic.

Style: High Renaissance
The nineteenth-century painter Johannes Bosboom is best known for his paintings of the interiors of churches, cloisters and synagogues, in which the figures often wear seventeenth-century costumes. He trained with Bartholomeus Johannes van Hove, a painter of theatre sets and town views.

Bosboom's pictures are in the tradition of church interiors by seventeenth-century Dutch artists such as Pieter Saenredam, Emanuel de Witte, Hendrick van Steenwyck the Younger and Jan Brueghel the Elder. Although Bosboom shared a fascination for the quality of light with his seventeenth-century predecessors, his dynamic, loose brushwork is very different to their meticulous, carefully delineated images.

Bosboom made a number of sketches and paintings of this church, the Bakenesserkerk in Haarlem, which dates from the fifteenth century and was partly rebuilt in the seventeenth century. This painting shows the south aisle and figures in seventeenth-century costume. Although the eye is initially drawn to the red cloak of the man on the left, the primary focus of the painting is the play of golden light through the windows and across the creamy stone and plaster walls of the church. The light glimmers on the brass chandeliers, highlighting some and silhouetting others. A service appears to be underway on the right, where women in white coifs sit in pews and apparently listen to a cleric preaching from a pulpit.

Bosboom’s rapid, dynamic brushwork suggests these effects of light and atmosphere with daring economy -- the sunny windows are stroke upon stroke of impastoed white, while the features of the standing woman are merely implied by two dots of brown. From close up the scene and pictorial depth dissolve into a richly textured surface of opaque paint, but from a distance an entirely believable sunlit interior with an imaginary cast of seventeenth-century characters is conjured.

This picture is similar to a larger one (Amsterdam Museum, Fodor Collection) which is thought to have been painted by Bosboom in about 1860. The National Gallery's picture is more broadly painted, and therefore probably dates to about 1870--5. It is signed at bottom left.

Style: Realist
Saint Fabian, on the left, and Saint Sebastian tower above two tiny kneeling figures wearing black hooded robes with long white veils and holding objects that look like paddles. Certain religious groups used instruments like this for self-flagellation -- the practice of whipping yourself as a punishment for sin.

Saint Fabian was pope in the third century and was killed by the Roman Emperor Decius. He is shown dressed in papal robes and tiara -- the three-tiered crown. His white cope is woven with golden thread and studded with pearls. Saint Sebastian is shown naked but for a translucent loin cloth. He has curly blonde hair, wiry calf muscles, bony knees and a muscular abdomen. He is pierced by 20 arrows, each wound oozing droplets of blood. The vibrant red pigment of the droplets is one of the best-preserved elements of the picture. According to the Golden Legend, a thirteenth-century compilation of the lives of the saints, Saint Sebastian was tied to a post and shot by Emperor Diocletian's soldiers: 'They shot so many arrows into his body that he looked like a porcupine.' He miraculously survived this torture but was later beaten to death.

Both saints were both thought to protect Christians against the plague and they share a feast day on 20 January -- so they were often shown together. Sebastian converted many people to Christianity and in doing so they were cured of their diseases.  Centuries later in the northern Italian town of Pavia, the citizens suffered a deadly plague which was stopped only when they built and dedicated an altar to Saint Sebastian.

During the eighteenth-century in Siena, the city in which this picture was made, a religious group called the Bianchi had an altar dedicated to Fabian and Sebastian, also hoping for protection against plague. So the kneeling figures we see could be members of the Bianchi, though they were renowned for wearing all white -- but we just don't know for sure.

The original use of this picture is mysterious: there are no signs that it ever formed part of an altarpiece, and there is no evidence to suggest that it was ever attached to other panels. Independent panels were popular in Siena for private prayer but this panel is too large to have been used for that. It is almost a metre in height, and the frame is original except for at the bottom edge where it has been replaced.

The panel has been thinned down on the reverse and so it is possible that it was painted on both sides. If so, it may have been used in religious processions where both sides would have been visible at once. The damage to the lower edge -- which led to it being replaced -- might have been caused by a pole, inserted so the picture could be carried as a banner in processions.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance, International Gothic