wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
Three male heads at different stages of life are paired with three animal heads: the elderly bearded man in the red cap with a wolf; the middle-aged man with a lion; and the young man with a dog. A Latin inscription divided to correspond to the three heads is written above them. It translates as: ‘Learning from Yesterday, Today acts prudently lest by his action he spoil Tomorrow.’ The meaning and purpose of this painting has been the subject of much debate.

Valeriano’s Hieroglyphica, published in Venice in 1556, proposed as an emblem of Prudence a serpent with the three heads of a dog, a wolf and a lion. So it may be that the painting is an allegory of Prudence. However, the composition was extensively revised during painting. The animal heads were added at a late stage and are fairly summarily executed.

X-ray images and infrared reflectography reveal that the composition was painted over a different figure, seemingly wearing a wide collar and seen from the back looking to the left. Furthermore, alterations were made to the head of the old man at left during its execution. The execution of the heads is of varied finish and quality, with the central one being the most subtle and vibrant. Some observers have seen the intervention of a studio assistant, especially in the head at the right, as well as the animals. Such variety of finish is not unusual for Titian, however, and it is hard to imagine why he would have called upon assistants for such an unusual and comparatively simple composition.

The somewhat inexpressive young man closely resembles the heads added at a late stage, perhaps by an assistant, to Titian's Vendramin Family. The painting has generally been considered a late work, but is not inconsistent with Titian's painting style of the late 1540s, for example the Sisyphus in the Prado Museum, Madrid, and the central head is similar to Titian’s work of that period, notably the Vendramin Family.

The painting is lit from the right, which is unusual in the work of a right-handed artist, suggesting that it may have been made for a specific location, and perhaps meant to be seen from afar. One possibility is that it was intended for the attic frieze of the Camerino (chamber) of Gabriel Vendramin, recorded in contemporary sources as by Titian, where a heraldic composition and symbolic subject would have been appropriate. A triple head but with two young faces is carved on one of the pilasters on the facade of Palazzo Vendramin at S. Fosca in Venice. It is also possible that the painting was made as a cover for a portrait (a Venetian innovation that was popular in north-east Italy from the 1520s), or possibly even as the door of a cupboard.

It has been suggested that the painting may be autobiographical in nature and represent Titian (left), his son Orazio (centre) and nephew Marco Vecellio (right), which would date the picture to the late 1560s. However, although the three heads match the relative ages of the three members of Titian's family fairly well, they don’t especially look like them.

Style: High Renaissance
This is a very small and very unusual painting, showing a view of the Nieuwe Kerk in Delft as though through a wide-angle lens. We look roughly north-west over a canal from the corner of two streets, the Oude Langendijk and Oosteinde. The grey shape just to the left of the church is the town hall. Both these buildings look much the same today, but the canal has been filled in and the houses on the right have been knocked down.

Views of particular streets and buildings were popular in seventeenth-century Holland, and especially in Delft, where Fabritius worked. The exaggerated perspectives the artist created make this one unusual. The church seems to loom towards us and the bend in the cobbled street seems to reflect the curve of a glass lens.

The effect is most strongly emphasised in the two musical instruments, set out on the table by a man who sits watchfully in the shade. He is probably a maker of, or dealer in, such instruments, and this is his stall. Fabritius may have had an aesthetic appreciation of the shape and form of the instruments, but he also wanted to use them to create a visual illusion. He uses a dramatically foreshortened view along the strings and fingerboard of a violin (or possibly a viola da gamba) so that the instrument appears extremely close to us. It follows the line of the street behind, which leads away from the centre of the picture, drawing our eye to the bulbous back of a lute leaning up against the wall. There we also see Fabritius’s signature carved into the wall as though it were a piece of graffiti.

Together, the impression of the instruments' closeness, the church as centrepiece in the middle ground and the lines of sight disappearing off into the distance on either side have led many art historians to conclude that Fabritius designed the image to create a specific optical illusion. It was probably made to be fitted into a viewing box and looked at through a lens or peephole. This would have created an impression of depth, so viewers were deceived into believing they were looking at a three-dimensional scene. This was known as a trompe l’oeil effect (or trick of the eye) and several artists of the time specialised in such illusions. There's an example in our collection of what is known as a 'perspective box' of this type: A Peepshow with Views of the Interior of a Dutch House by Samuel van Hoogstraten. It has two sight holes which allow a view of an interior and was probably made about five or six years after the Fabritius painting.

What hasn’t been definitively proven is exactly how Fabritius’s view was intended to be mounted and looked at. It may be that it was made to be pasted onto a curved surface inside the box, or perhaps viewed through a lens which created a particular optical distortion.

Style: Baroque
We are looking at a miraculous event. An elegantly dressed huntsman has been stopped in this tracks by an apparition: a large stag with a Crucifix between its antlers. This is Saint Eustace, whose story was told in the Golden Legend, the famous medieval collection of saints' lives. A Roman soldier named Placidus was out hunting when he had a vision of a stag with Christ on a shining cross between its antlers. He converted to Christianity at once and changed his name to Eustace.

He doesn't look like a Roman soldier here, though. Instead Pisanello has depicted an Italian prince, in a fantastic blue hat, out hunting with his hounds. We do not know who this painting was for, but its small size suggests it was for the private enjoyment of an aristocrat. Although he was rarely shown in Italian art, Saint Eustace personified the ideals of the medieval knightly class, for whom hunting was not just a hobby but an enormously important activity. It was seen both as a metaphor for the soul's search for God and as a virtuous activity which kept men busy -- and therefore out of temptation's way. Most importantly it was the primary training for war, which was aristocracy's most important function.

Pisanello was especially famous for his ability to show animals. The huge number of his surviving drawings include various studies for the creatures in this painting, some taken from model books, some taken from earlier artists and some from live and dead animals. This painting is full not just of various dogs -- some seemingly taken from the lavishly illustrated hunting treatises which were very popular in the fifteenth century -- but also birds, a hare and even a bear; all are amazingly lifelike. He paid meticulous attention to detail, comparable to that of contemporary Netherlandish artists such as Jan van Eyck. Look closely and you can see the spiked wheels on the saint's long rowel spurs and the way the horse's shoes turn up at the ends to give extra grip on wet ground.

One very strange feature is the blank scroll at the front. There is no sign it ever had any text and its meaning remains mysterious, though a similarly placed scroll on Saint Jerome in a Landscape by Pisanello's pupil Bono da Ferrara contains the artist's signature.

Sadly this painting has suffered considerably from deliberate damage, from changes in the glossary:pigments and from restoration. It was once taller and had a less claustrophobic feel: a later copy in the Cini Collection, Venice, shows a landscape with hills and sky at the top. Many of the colours have darkened, obscuring details, and the surface is worn down and has been extensively retouched. The saint's clothes and many of the animals have been repainted -- like the horse, which was originally whitish-grey but has been darkened by retouching. But you can get a sense of the painting's original quality from the flowers and foliage around horse, which are still in good condition.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance, International Gothic
Scholderer made several portraits of Luise Steurwaldt, whom he married in London on 11 February 1872. Here he has portrayed her almost in profile, leaning back against a shawl draped over her chair. She holds a Japanese fan on her lap but looks straight ahead of her as though lost in thought and unaware of our presence. The palette is almost monochrome, consisting of greys and creams with a hint of golden beige in the shawl and the background which is echoed in Luise’s auburn hair. The red edge of the fan and the red of the pavilion design shown on it, pick up the red of Luise’s lips and the blush on her cheeks.

The portrait, probably made in 1872--3, is skillfully painted with great economy: the rapid opaque brushstrokes suggesting the folds of fabric are barely blended, and the translucent sleeves of Luise's blouse over her bare arms beautifully observed. In style the portrait is influenced by the pared-back portraits of Henri Fantin-Latour, such as Mr and Mrs Edwin Edwards of 1875, on loan to the National Gallery from Tate.

The pose and restrained palette are also reminiscent of Whistler’s famous profile portrait of his mother, which was painted in London in 1871 and exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1872 as Arrangement in Grey and Black: Portrait of the Artist’s Mother (Louvre Abu Dhabi). It is possible that Scholderer knew Whistler’s portrait as he was living and working in London from 1871 to 1899.

This work is closely related to Scholderer’s larger and much more highly finished painting (Städelsches Kunstinstitut, Frankfurt) in which Luise wears the same costume but holds a European fan, rather than the Japanese one shown here. The Frankfurt painting, for which this may be a study, is dated 1873 and was exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1875. In it Luise reclines against her silvery striped shawl but turns to face the viewer, directly meeting our gaze. The black fan – the darkest element of the painting among the palette of silvery greys – draws our gaze as a second focal point: her dark eyes. Whereas in our painting Luise seems distant and dreamy, in the Frankfurt painting she appears alert and as though about to speak, creating quite a different mood.

This painting was bequeathed to the National Gallery, along with Lilacs by Dr J.V. Scholderer, the son of the artist.

Style: Impressionist
The Virgin Mary appears to the patron saint of Spain, Saint James the Greater, who wears red and green and wears a barely visible pilgrim's shell on his left shoulder. He extends his arms ready to receive the statuette of the Virgin and Child and the column of jasper on which to place it. These objects are carried by a swirling mass of putti surrounding the Virgin like a golden halo. The celebratory nature of the apparition is emphasised by the angels making music among the clouds. In the earthly sphere below Saint James is surrounded by the apostles, some of whom are sleeping while others appear as ghostly figures bewildered by the sight.

Although the sky suggests a daytime scene, the apparition was said to have taken place at night while Saint James was praying with the apostles next to the Ebro River, which passed through the Spanish city that subsequently became Zaragoza, and is shown in the bottom left corner. The Virgin instructed Saint James to build an oratory on the spot where he had his vision to house the statuette on the jasper column, which came to be known as the Virgen del Pilar (Virgin of the Pillar), and she became the patron saint of Zaragoza. Several churches housed the sculpture before the current Cathedral Basilica of Our Lady of El Pilar was erected in the late seventeenth century.

Bayeu taught the young Goya and, like his pupil (and later brother-in-law),  he was born and active in the region of Zaragoza. He painted this scene there, inspired by Antonio González Velázquez’s fresco of 1753 in the dome over the central chapel of the Basilica of El Pilar. The paintings are compositionally similar, with the Virgin at the centre surrounded by putti and flanked by Saint James and the apostles, but they are quite different in style. Bayeu’s fluid brushwork and bright colour palette are more akin to those of the Italian artist Corrado Giaquinto, who was based in Madrid from 1753 to 1761. Giaquinto’s work was displayed at the city's Royal Academy of San Fernando and at the Royal Palace, where he was court painter. Bayeu would have seen Giaquinto’s paintings during his short stay in Madrid in 1758, before returning to Zaragoza to focus on church and convent commissions. He also painted other versions of this subject and frescoed the ceilings in the Basilica of El Pilar.

The free handling and small format of this picture might suggest that it is a sketch for a larger painting or fresco. The existence of a highly finished preparatory drawing in a private collection, however, suggests that it was probably made as an independent work of art and was intended for private devotion. Also unusual for a preparatory sketch is the fact that the canvas is signed and dated by the artist on the reverse.

Style: Neoclassical
A man looks out at us with his shirt opened to reveal his neck, disfigured by a goitre (a swelling caused by an enlarged thyroid gland). Despite suffering this medical condition, he has an amused expression and the artist has portrayed him sympathetically. He is evidently poor, as can be seen by his ragged clothes – the blue jacket he wears has been roughly stitched at the seams.

This painting’s style and subject matter are typical of Giacomo Francesco Cipper, an artist who was active in Lombardy in the early eighteenth century. The freedom of the paint handling is startling: the artist has applied thick impastoed brushstrokes (for example, on the man’s temple) and has purposely left the reddish-brown ground exposed to form the shadows in the darker areas (for example, around his eyes). The painting’s ‘blotchy’ -- almost impressionistic -- appearance is achieved by not blending the daubs of paint, and the animated brushwork gives movement and life to the figure, as does the off-centre pose, and tilt of the head.

This characterful portrait is one of a pair with Head of a Man in Red, also in our collection.

Style: Baroque, Academic, Rococo
Looking across the basin of San Marco, this vast view captures the scale and splendour of a ceremony taking place along the waterfront. In the foreground, boats carrying animated figures in colourful outfits have been carefully arranged to lead the eye into the painting towards the impressive state barge or Bucintoro, with its red roof and golden carved decoration. In the bottom left corner, a man holding a yellow parasol  gives his passengers a tour of the lagoon and gestures towards the activity on the quayside.

The annual ceremony of the Wedding of the Sea is about to take place. The upper deck of the Bucintoro is crowded with figures. A procession of state dignitaries and foreign ambassadors makes its way towards the state barge, past the Doge's Palace with its pink and white facade; the golden umbrella just visible in the crowd belongs to the doge (the head of the Venetian state). During the ceremony the Bucintoro was rowed out onto the lagoon, where the doge would cast a blessed ring into the water to symbolise the ritual marriage of Venice and the sea. This long-standing tradition had originated as a celebration of Venetian naval domination over the Adriatic Sea and became the grandest event in the Festa della Sensa, a festival marking the Ascension of Christ.

Traditional gondolas and golden parade craft surround the Bucintoro. Their passengers sit or stand in the open to view the spectacle, or else shelter from the sun under striped canopies. Some wear a white mask and black cloak, a costume traditionally worn during the annual Carnival of Venice. Canaletto conjured up this eager audience with great precision. The figures in the tightly packed vessels merge with distant crowds made up of careful dots of paint; look closer and you can see more spectators along the balconies of the Doge’s Palace and at the top of the elegant campanile (bell tower) beyond. These details help to convey the sense of anticipation and excitement -- we can imagine the hum of voices, the splashing of oars and the clunking of boats as they rest against each other.

This public celebration took place in front of the Doge's Palace and the surrounding buildings of San Marco, one of the city's most famous and recognisable areas. Passing through the web of boat masts, you can see the entrance of the Grand Canal and, on the far left, the spectacular domed church of S. Maria della Salute. A hazy light illuminates the facades of the buildings, picking out varying shades and subtle textures, and casts beautiful, soft reflections on the water.

This picture, painted in around 1740, was intended to be hung alongside Canaletto’s A Regatta on the Grand Canal, an equally elaborate scene of Venetian pomp and festivity.

Style: Baroque, Rococo
Christ’s birth is celebrated as the glorious revelation of God on Earth in this unique and colourful image by Botticelli. No fewer than 20 angels -- all carrying leafy olive branches, a symbol of peace -- preside over the revelry.

The event takes place in a glade within a forest; the stable where, according to the Gospel writers, Christ was born, is represented imaginatively as a thatched roof pitched over the opening of a rocky cavern. The infant Christ reaches up towards the Virgin Mary, oblivious of his visitors -- the Three Kings on the left and the shepherds on the right, who have been ushered towards him by angels. The golden dome of heaven has opened up and become visible from earth; it is circled by 12 angels holding olive branches entwined with scrolls and hung with crowns which swing as they dance.

The meeting of the divine and the human in the newborn Christ is shown symbolically in the dance-like embrace of three pairs of angels and men who form a rhythmic frieze in the foreground. Among their feet, winged demons and horned little devils scuttle for shelter in the underworld through cracks in the rocks. This is an unusual sight in a nativity scene but it is key to the understanding of Botticelli's mystical creation, as revealed by the inscription at the top. In this, Botticelli interprets contemporary political events -- which he calls 'the troubles of Italy' -- in the light of the biblical Book of Revelation, which foretells the details of the end of the world and Christ's second coming. The 'troubles' are probably a reference to the invasion of the French, who took Naples in 1494 and Milan in 1499, and to the civil strife in Florence itself. Botticelli has associated these events with chapter 11 of Revelation, which describes the invasion of the Holy City by Gentiles and the devil being unleashed. Christ's return to earth would bring an end to this period of upheaval and the devil would be buried, as in this picture.

The apocalyptic message of the inscription reflects the teachings of Girolamo Savonarola, the popular and radical preacher whose sermons were causing a stir in Florence from the 1490s. After the death of Lorenzo de' Medici and the expulsion of his son Piero, Savonarola's power in the city -- now leaderless -- grew even stronger, and Botticelli is thought to have been a keen follower. Savonarola saw the French invasion as divine retribution for the moral demise of the Italian states and was equally critical of what he saw as the overly luxurious lifestyle of the citizens of Florence. He isolated the city from its closest allies, particularly the Pope, and was eventually publicly executed in 1498.

After the political turbulence of the previous decade and the death of his spiritual and moral guide, Botticelli in this picture looks forward to the fulfilment of peace and to man's reconciliation with God, as initiated by the Incarnation and expected to be achieved fully, according to the Book of Revelation, with Christ's return.

Style: High Renaissance
This panel comes from the uppermost part of a large multi-panelled altarpiece made for the high altar of the church of Santa Croce, Florence. There were originally six of these pinnacle panels, four of which survive. There are two others in our collection, of Isaiah and Moses; one, showing the prophet Daniel, is in the Philip G. Johnson collection in the Philadelphia Museum of Art.

The panel depicts an Old Testament king, David, and was originally placed above a panel showing Saints Bartholomew and Andrew. There is only the faintest trace of the inscription that identified him -- it's on the left, next to his shoulder. This led to his previous misidentification as Aaron, the brother of Moses, who led the Israelites out of captivity in Egypt. Technical analysis has revealed that David's crown is made of gold and silver leaf which have been beaten together to create a duller shade of gold.

The crown indicates his status, as does his cloak, the white lining of which is painted with dark patches to resemble ermine, which was typically worn by royalty. He makes a blessing gesture with his right hand, and holds a scroll in his left. It bears a damaged inscription in Latin, translated as: 'One of the sons of your body I will set on your throne' (Psalm 132: 11). These words are a promise from God to David, who was traditionally thought to be the author of the Psalms, that his dynasty would be long and fruitful. Jesus Christ was thought to be descended from David, which gave him a royal, and divinely blessed, lineage (Matthew 1: 1--17).

Like the other pinnacle panels in our collection, this has holes in the areas to either side of the pointed arch for decorative framing elements to be slotted in.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance