wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
In Book II of the Metamorphoses, a poem by the Roman writer Ovid, Callisto was one of the virginal companions of Diana. She was raped by Jupiter, ruler of the gods, and became pregnant.

One day, while out hunting, Diana and her companions decided to bathe in a stream. Callisto was forced to undress -- her pregnancy was revealed and Diana expelled her from the group. She gave birth to a son, Arcas, and was transformed into a bear by Jupiter's jealous wife, Juno. Years later, her grown-up son was out hunting when he came upon his mother, still in the form of a bear. Not knowing who she was, Arcas was about to kill her when Jupiter changed them into constellations, the Great Bear and Little Bear.

in this painting, Diana, already largely undressed, is seated on a rock in the lower right corner, surrounded by her attendants. A bow, two quivers of arrows and items of clothing lie on the ground beside her. She is gesturing to the group on the other side of the stream, where several nymphs are forcing Callisto to take off her clothes. Other nymphs with bows and spears stand watching, or are already naked and ready to enter the water.

The discovery of Callisto's pregnancy was a favourite subject with European patrons and artists from the fifteenth century onwards, perhaps for the opportunity it gave to show a number of nude female figures. It was painted on a grand scale by both Titian (Diana and Callisto) and Rubens.

Paul Bril was born and trained in Antwerp and the roots of his style were deeply Flemish, harking back to Pieter Bruegel the Elder and Joachim Patinir. After moving to Rome in 1575 he came into contact with the work of Italian artists, in particular Annibale Carracci and his followers; the encounter modified his style profoundly, which became calmer and more classicising.

In the early 1620s Bril collaborated with Domenichino, Guercino and Giambattista Viola on the frescoes in the Stanza dei Paesi in the Villa Ludovisi. Under the influence of the Bolognese school he also produced a number of  landscapes in which broad tranquil settings are inhabited by mythological figures, usually, as here, placed in the lower foreground.

Style: Baroque
Van den Eeckhout's painting tells an Old Testament story of kindness, hospitality and trust towards travellers. In 1991, it was presented to the National Gallery by Mr Herman Shickman in gratitude to the British people who showed hospitality to his mother, a refugee from Germany in the Second World War.

In the seventeenth century, the people of the Dutch Republic paid great attention to the Old Testament, seeing a link between the Jews, who had overcome great hardship to gain freedom, and themselves, in their recently won independence from Spanish rule. Pictures portraying scenes from the Old Testament were popular, and biblical characters seen as real. This is why artists such as Rembrandt and his pupil van den Eeckhout often used people from their neighbourhood as models and painted them 'warts and all' in their pursuit of realism.

The figure wearing the enormous turban is Eliezer, chief servant of Abraham, the first of the Jewish patriarchs. Abraham wanted a wife for his son, Isaac, and sent Eliezer to find a bride in a neighbouring country. Eliezer prayed for help in finding her, and God told him to stop at a well to ask for water for himself and his camels. Whichever young woman offered it first would be chosen. The painting shows the moment when, without his asking, Rebekah shyly offers Eliezer a drink. She holds the heavy jug in front of her, perhaps a little defensively, but the hand Eliezer holds out to her is gentle and reassuring. Rebekah consents to return with him to become Isaac's wife, and lives, so the Bible tells, happily ever after.

Unlike the Bible story, van den Eeckhout seems to point to a difference in status and circumstances between the two main characters by dividing the painting in two. Although a traveller and a stranger -- his camel nods a weary head behind him -- Eliezer is dressed in a richly decorated robe and his retinue is impressive. Rebekah wears pearl earrings and white linen under her shawl but she is plainly dressed compared with the old man.

Eliezer's servants are all male. Each is given a status and a character, from the camel driver looking round towards the man with the large basket, to the servant in yellow livery. Rebekah has no servants. There are women around her but too far away to give them a real identity or a relationship with her. They keep a curious, perhaps jealous, eye on events while carrying on their work –- hauling a heavy bucket, pulling on an authentic-looking rope and pulley, minding the sheep.

Van den Eeckhout paints the landscape with the warm browns, yellows and mossy green often favoured by Rembrandt, but it too is divided. Behind Eliezer, softly rolling hills stretch away to a distant knoll where there are silhouettes of trees and camels. Behind Rebekah, the towering mountain is rough, bleak and deserted. Yet their two worlds meet. The tawny brown of the mountain echoed in Eliezer's robe links them, as does the hand stretched out with such sensitivity towards the naïve young girl facing an enormous step that will change her life.

Style: Baroque
Boudin grew up on the Normandy coast, and retained an affection for its breezy seascapes, spending some time painting there each summer. Although he began his artistic career as a marine painter, he found a ready market for his rapidly executed small paintings of beach scenes featuring crowds of holidaymakers. The majority of them depict Trouville, which by the mid nineteenth century had developed from a fishing village into a fashionable holiday resort. Of the 11 paintings Boudin exhibited at the Paris Salon between 1864 and 1869, nine of them showed Trouville.

Here, a group of well-dressed visitors gather around a flagpole on Trouville’s famous sandy beach. We see them from a distance, rather than close-up, and they are arranged across the sand, some sitting and some standing, like figures in a frieze. Boudin has chosen not to show their faces, but their poses and gestures suggest animated conversation. Between the misty blue of the sky and the brown tones of the sand, an emphatic white dress is visible in the centre, with touches of bright red and blue among the figures to each side.

This work records a bright but cloudy day – the overcast sky blends gently into the sea. Boudin was fascinated by  changing weather and light conditions and made numerous pastel studies of skies on the Seine estuary that were much admired by the poet Charles Baudelaire. Characteristic of Boudin's approach are the delicate broken brushstrokes, which create a sense of atmospheric freshness.

Boudin was Monet’s mentor and close friend, recognising his talent and encouraging him to paint in the open air. In the summer of 1870 the two painters were working side by side at Trouville, and the seated figures to the left of this painting suggest comparison with Monet's The Beach at Trouville produced that year, which may show Boudin's wife dressed in black seated beside Monet's wife. Monet evidently liked Boudin’s painting, as he bought it along with another Boudin in the National Gallery’s collection, Beach scene, Trouville 1870--4.

Style: Impressionist
An unidentified male saint in a quatrefoil medallion turns the pages of a book. We are not sure exactly who he is, but he was probably meant to be one of the Four Evangelists, the authors of the Gospels.

Unlike the vast majority of medieval and Renaissance paintings in our collection, this picture was not painted on a panel or even a linen support. It is a fresco, and was painted on the wall of a public building. It is one of three fragments which possibly came from the Palazzo del Podesta in Assisi. They were perhaps once part of the framing of some large composition.

They were probably painted in the first half of the fourteenth century and have recently been attributed to the so-called Master of San Crispino, who decorated the Oratorio di San Crispino at Assisi in the 1330s.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
When this small painting on wood was bequeathed to the National Gallery it had the title Vespers, although it had previously been titled Young Girl with Flowers when listed with a Paris dealer in 1900.

The composition is very similar to a picture titled Sunday Afternoon (Zondagmiddag), which Jacob Maris had painted a few years earlier, in 1863. Formerly in the William Van Horne Collection in Montreal, that painting's current location is unknown, but a lithograph of it was made by Frederik Weissenbruch. This shows a girl, who is slightly older, seated outside an ivy-covered house. A church spire can also be seen in the distance on the left. However, the girl in Sunday Afternoon is knitting, and her dress is of finer quality.

In this picture, painted in 1867, Maris has replaced the knitting with a rather worn straw hat, which the girl is decorating with flowers. She is also wearing jewellery (a necklace and earrings) -- perhaps because of a visit to the church. The same girl may have posed for A Girl feeding a Bird in a Cage, which was painted in the same year. The church itself is in Montigny-sur-Loing, a small town on the southern edge of the forest at Fontainebleau, some 50 miles south of Paris. It also appears in View of Montigny-sur-Loing (Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen, Rotterdam), which Maris painted in 1870.

Maris reused many of the features in both pictures in another painting, Girl-Knitting on a Balcony, Montmartre (Gemeentemuseum, The Hague), painted two years later in 1869. This painting returns to the earlier image of a girl (seen in profile) knitting, but also includes a straw hat, which has been placed on the ground.

Style: Realist
Before the 1880s Renoir painted very few nudes. The National Gallery owns a rare exception, A Nymph by a Stream, which depicts his lover at the time, Lise Tréhot, as one of the mythical nymphs or naiads described in classical art and literature and also eighteenth-century French painting. But the artist’s journey to Italy in 1881, where he was absorbed by Roman sculpture and Renaissance painting, rekindled his interest in depicting nudes in a way that echoed the classical tradition. He began painting them far more often and this intimate picture (which is only about 39 by 29 cm) is probably one of a series made during the second half of the 1880s.

His attraction to the nude coincided with that of Edgar Degas, his friend and fellow artist. Degas had explored the form for many years and in 1886, in the last Impressionist Exhibition (in which Renoir also exhibited), he showed several new pastels depicting naked or partially clothed women washing themselves.

The tradition of depicting the subjects unaware that they are being watched went back to ancient Greek myths, such as that of Diana and Actaeon and to biblical stories of Bathsheba and Susannah. But Degas and Renoir differed in their approaches to it. Degas masked the link to earlier traditions by focusing on depicting ordinary women in contemporary interior settings, sometimes viewed from a strikingly unusual angle. His After the Bath, Woman drying Herself was probably made a few years later, but it is typical of the sort of poses he preferred. It is also very similar to the pose Renoir has chosen in this painting (and one which is reminiscent of other Degas pastels). He has also added some recognisably contemporary touches, such as the striped fabric of the towel or discarded dress that the model is sitting on, and the fact that her hair, which she is fixing (or unfixing), is in one of the fashions of the time. The depiction of hair under her arm is something which would have been seen only rarely, if at all, in such paintings before the mid-nineteenth century.  But by showing the figure seated on a rock by a pool or a stream -- suggested here by the flash of bright blue on the left-hand side of the picture -- rather than a contemporary interior, Renoir is reflecting the longer tradition of classical nudes much more explicitly.

Renoir was also fascinated by how best to capture the sensuousness of his subjects.  He wrote: 'I look at the nude; there are myriads of tiny tints in flesh. I must find the ones that will make the flesh on my canvas live and quiver.' In this painting, he sets the predominantly pink flesh tones against the greens of the background, which makes them appear all the more vibrant -- these are complementary colours, which seem more intense when placed together. The sense of quiver or vibrancy he sought comes perhaps from the blurring effect of his brushwork, which suggests rather than precisely delineates the model and her surroundings.

Style: Impressionist
The third scene in the series of six paintings by Hogarth titled Marriage A-la Mode is set in the consulting room of the French doctor M. de la Pillule. Viscount Squanderfield is accompanied by a sickly looking little girl and a woman with a folding pocket-knife who is probably the girl's mother and madam.

The woman's sleeves are cut from the same gold brocade as the little girl's skirt which, as well as the apron, is far too long, suggesting she may be wearing her mother's clothes. The tattoo 'FC' above the woman's left breast was inflicted on convicted prostitutes, and it seems she has consigned her daughter to the same profession. Her dress is too gaudy to be ladylike and she has black spots on her face to indicate that she, like the Viscount and the doctor himself, is infected with venereal disease. She appears furious that the Viscount has infected her daughter. Whether it was he who infected the child is far from certain but it seems likely he will have to pay handsome damages.

The little girl stands between the Viscount's open legs, while he sits with a pill box beside his groin, suggesting that she is 'his' girl and that they are both there to be treated for a sexually transmitted disease. Brandishing his cane, the Viscount seems to be protesting that the doctor's pills don't work. The pills are quite clearly black, matching the black mark on the Viscount's neck that Hogarth uses to denote syphilis. The main treatment for venereal disease at this time was pills made from mercury. Veneral disease was rife during this period and easily caught, but not so easily cured.

The doctor himself is riddled with the disease -- the sunken bridge of his nose, his bulging forehead, thick lips, probable toothlessness and deformed legs are all consistent with an advanced degree of congenital syphilis. The skull on the table is pocked with small black holes which indicate erosions caused by the disease. It seems unlikely that the doctor's pills will work if he cannot cure himself.

His consulting room is full of extraordinary objects which suggest that he practises as a physician, surgeon, barber-surgeon, apothecary and chemist. The alarming metal machines on the right are described in the open book as used for setting shoulders and drawing corks. The cabinet behind the Viscount displays a narwhal horn, a pile of bricks, a barber's shaving bowl, a large urine flask, a head that might act as an apothecary's shop sign, a giant's femur, a stuffed crocodile and an ostrich egg, among other curiosities.

The skeleton in the cupboard seems to be propositioning the anatomical model, associating illicit sex with death -- and suggesting that something is going on behind the Viscount's back. The tripod on the top of the cupboard above the anatomical model's head is a presage of the three-sided gallows tree which will feature in the final scene of this series of paintings. It may also refer to the anatomical model's own origin -- the only corpses which anatomists could lawfully obtain were those of executed criminals.

Style: Baroque, Rococo, Georgian
This is the final scene of Hogarth's series of six paintings, Marriage A-la-Mode. The wretched Countess, dogged by the scandal following Silvertongue's arrest, trial and sentence to death for the murder of her husband the Earl, has returned to her penny-pinching father's house in the City of London, overlooking old London Bridge. A newly printed broadsheet with the words 'Counseller Silvertou.../last dying speech...' lies at her feet. On it is an image of the three-sided gallows at Tyburn -- foreshadowed by the tripod in the third scene -- where Silvertongue has been hanged by the neck.

Her lover dead, the Countess has drunk laudanum -- probably the entire contents of the bottle now lying empty on the floor. An old nurse lifts the Countess's child to kiss his or her mother goodbye (it was common at the time to dress boys in skirts until they were about eight years old). It's all too clear that the child has congenital syphilis to an advanced degree, as indicated by the black spot on its cheek and sunken bridge of its nose. Its legs are also deformed by the disease and encased in surgical boots and braces. This group of mother, nurse and child parodies the final scene in many a novel of virtue rewarded, above all of Samuel Richardson's Pamela, which Hogarth had been invited to illustrate. The Countess's child is unlikely to live long, bringing to an abrupt end the family tree so proudly displayed by the Earl of Squander in the first scene.

Suicide was a crime in England until 1961, and a suicide's possessions had to be given up to the Crown until 1822 -- the Alderman prudently removes a ring from his daughter's finger rather than troubling himself to say goodbye to her as she takes her final breaths. In grabbing her arm, he prevents his daughter from returning her own child's embrace. He is dressed as he was in the first scene; he is a man of neither fashion nor taste. The pictures in his house are all of Dutch low-life scenes with broad bourgeois jokes.

The table is set for a meagre meal: a boiled egg sits upright on a plate of rice; the starved dog gnaws at the ear of the pig's head which, with its upturned nose and gaping mouth, echoes the expression of the dying Countess. The silver punch bowl on the table -- probably presented to the Alderman after a period of office rather than bought -- is the only luxury item in the room. The still life on the cloth-covered table may be a deliberate parody of Chardin's work, which Hogarth may have seen in Paris.

The apothecary, who wears a posy in his buttonhole, appears to have a stomach pump and bottle of syrup in the pocket of his black coat. He is making a great show of accusing the half-witted servant of procuring the Countess's bottle of laudanum, but he may have been treating the Countess himself with it and now fears blame because she has drunk the lot.

The doctor wanders out behind the Alderman -- there is nothing more he can do. He appears to admire the whole row of fire buckets hanging on the wall in the hallway, each lettered with 's' for sand. The Alderman, unlike his dying daughter, never starts a fire he can't extinguish.

Style: Baroque, Rococo, Georgian
This panel once formed the left shutter of an altarpiece in the Benedictine abbey at Liesborn in north-west Germany. The right-hand shutter is also in the National Gallery's collection.

This painting shows, from left to right, Saints Gregory, Maurice and Augustine. The gilded clasp that fastens Saint Gregory's robes is decorated with the scene of the Annunciation (the moment the Archangel Gabriel told the Virgin Mary that she would conceive the son of God). Saint Maurice is dressed in armour: he was a Roman soldier. He led his legion to convert to Christianity, and they were all martyred for refusing to sacrifice to pagan gods. Maurice was often shown with Saint Exuperius, a member of the same legion, who features at the centre of the left-hand panel. The scholar Saint Augustine is on the right, holding a heart pierced by an arrow. This is a reference to his writings, in which he described how God had pierced his heart with the arrow of his love.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
This small oil sketch or modello relates to an altarpiece that Giovanni Battista Tiepolo painted for the chapel at the palace at Nymphenburg, outside Munich, in around 1735 (now in the Alte Pinakothek, Munich). It was made so the patron could see what the altarpiece would look like, but it's so highly finished that it can be regarded as a complete work of art in its own right. The final version was among the first paintings by Tiepolo to reach Germany; he spent the majority of his career working in Venice and elsewhere in Italy.

It was probably commissioned by the Archbishop-Elector of Cologne, Clemens August, which would explain the presence of Saint Clement, his namesake, who kneels in the foreground, a vision of the Trinity above him. He is outlined against a great coffered semi-domed room, and the Trinity in the upper right push forward from a cloudy sky. Here, as in many of Tiepolo's altarpieces, a pale light pours in through the classical arch in the background, drawing our eye towards the action in the foreground. God the Father and Christ, who wears a shroud and holds the Cross, are seated on a cloud, its graceful curve much like that of the classical arch. The dove of the Holy Ghost hovers next to a frenzy of cherubs, who gaze intently towards God the Father and Christ. A winged angel with a three-barred patriarchal cross sits upon the altar steps, following Saint Clement's gaze.

Tiepolo was celebrated for his use of colour and light.  Here, swathes of bold primary colours -- the red of the carpet, the yellow gold of Saint Clement's vestment and the blue of the angels' draperies -- mark the earthly, holy and celestial parts of the painting. These colours are offset by the tiny, sparkling decorations on the silver censer, which was used to burn incense during religious worship, at the bottom right. A silvery cloud carries the holy figures upward in a spiral of movement. The kneeling saint, too, appears to be moving upward, towards his vision. The effect is both highly dramatic and elegantly refined.

The artist made several changes to the composition of this sketch, the most significant being in the figure of Saint Clement: he was initially taller and did not raise his head towards his vision. There are very few changes between this modello and the altarpiece, though in the latter the frame obscures the statue of Faith carrying the Bible and holy cross.

Style: Baroque, Rococo