wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
A strong, determined woman is pushing a reluctant youth into a chariot on the left. This is Aurora, goddess of the dawn, who has fallen in love with a mortal, the hunter Cephalus, whose hound and spear lie on the ground lower left. He resists her advances, for he is already in love with Procris, daughter of the king of Athens. In the centre, Cupid scatters rose petals on the couple. An elderly bearded figure slumbers on the right: this may be Tithonus, Aurora's aged husband, or -- as is the case in Nicolas Poussin's Cephalus and Aurora -- the river god Oceanus, marking the site of the rising and setting of the sun (the place from which Aurora emerges). The tale of Cephalus and Aurora is taken from Ovid's Metamorphoses (7: 701--14). It became a well-known story during the Renaissance, when the Metamorphoses was translated into Italian verse.

This is one of two large drawings  made in connection with the ceiling decoration of the Gallery in the Palazzo Farnese in Rome, which was begun in 1597. The vaulted ceiling and end walls were covered with a riotous juxtaposition of gods and goddesses, nymphs and satyrs, trompe l'oeil architecture, statues, bronze medallions and writhing seated nudes. The project, centred around the classical theme of the loves of the gods, was largely designed and executed by  Annibale Carracci, with the assistance of his older brother Agostino. This drawing and A Woman borne off by a Sea God (?) are the designs for two large paintings above the centre of the long sides of the Gallery, thought to have been painted by Agostino. Other related preparatory studies make it likely that Agostino was also largely responsible for the design and execution of this cartoon, although Annibale may have contributed the very naturalistic dog in the foreground.

Cartoons were used to transfer images onto a wall or ceiling before they were painted in fresco. This full-scale cartoon was cut up into sections, so that each one could be transferred onto a patch of fresh plaster which was applied to the ceiling and painted on in a single working session. The outlines of the design were incised into the plaster using a sharp instrument called a stylus. The artist would have tried to complete whole figures or sections of the design in each session, so that the joins would not be visible in the final painting.

Style: Baroque, Academic
One of the great achievements of the best Dutch artists of the seventeenth century was their ability to capture a moment in time. Whether the image is of a woman sweeping a kitchen, a group of men in conversation around a meeting table, or a riotous scene in a tavern, you get the sense that you are sharing a real moment with them. Rather than a deadpan composition, the painting is somehow alive.

This tiny portrait is an example of just this effect. The young man has turned towards us and settled his elbow over the back of his chair. He seems to be waiting for us to say something. His pipe is paused, slightly away from his mouth, and he meets our gaze with an easy, relaxed look. Perhaps he has just taken a puff: the tobacco is glowing and a wisp of smoke twists upwards from the bowl.

Maybe it is this sense of a pause in his pipe smoking which creates the feeling of a moment captured -- it is always hard to explain why some paintings are more effective than others in this respect. The exquisite detail definitely adds to the atmosphere. Even though this portrait is just 19 x 15cm, Dou has teased out the pattern and the highlights of the gold braid on his hat, the reflections in his eyes and even the texture of the skin on his left hand. But he also adds the occasional dash of brilliance. The glimpse of his shirt where his jerkin has become unbuttoned has been suggested with a single stroke of white paint.

Dou’s father was a glass engraver, so perhaps his attention to minutiae was inherited or ingrained at an early age. His creativity with oil paint, however, was learned in Rembrandt’s studio, where he was an apprentice from 1628 until 1631/2.  He certainly made a success of his abilities and founded the so-called Fijnschilders ('fine, or small-scale, meticulous') group of painters in his home town of Leiden, where he specialised in minutely painted scenes of everyday life. Such was his fame by the 1660s that Charles II invited him to visit London. He declined, preferring to stay in his home town.

Until recently this picture -- which was probably painted in about 1635--40 when Dou was in his mid-twenties -- was considered to be a self portrait. The pipe perhaps replaced the brush which Dou saw when he looked in the mirror. The long wavy hair, the moustache and tuft below his lip, and the hump in the nose have similarities with portraits that we know are of Dou. But they are too generic for us to be sure of a secure identification and it is more likely that what we are looking at here is a tronie -- an image of a stock character -- which were highly popular in the Netherlands at the time.

Style: Baroque
Images showing the Adoration of the Kings were particularly important in Florence. The event was marked on 6 January at the feast of the Epiphany, and every five years the citizens of Florence paraded through the streets dressed up as the kings and their entourage. This celebration was organised by a religious confraternity dedicated to the Epiphany, a group which was sponsored by the wealthy ruling Medici family. The Medici were particularly invested in the feast and the imagery of the Adoration because it showed princes recognising the divine kingship of the infant Christ and worshipping him in humility.

This painting, which may have been made as part of a piece of furniture, reflects the popularity of the subject in Florence as well as these festive processions. The vast entourage of the kings, including horses in decorated harnesses, is densely packed into the left part of the image. Parts of the crowd are unruly; near the back a white horse rears his head away from a fight involving his rider who wields an axe. The figures on the other side of the wall -- in the vicinity of the infant Christ, seated on the lap of the Virgin Mary -- talk amongst themselves, while others bow or kneel in reverence.

At the front of this group kneel two of the kings. One bows before Christ, bending to kiss his foot in homage, while the other makes to remove his crown in respect of the baby's greater majesty. The third king approaches, dressed in white, carrying his gift for the infant in a gold vessel. A young man wearing blue and red hose, who has also removed his hat, cranes his neck to gaze into the sky. He might be looking towards the star which, according to the Gospel account, had led to kings to the site of Christ's birth.

We know that Botticelli and Filippino sometimes worked together in the same workshop and they seem to have collaborated on this picture. The bustling, animated crowd on the left is most certainly by Botticelli: the foreground figures with their heart-shaped faces and fleshy chins are particularly characteristic of his work. Well known for the grace and elegance of his figures and draperies, Filippino was most likely responsible for the group of figures in the central foreground, which includes a kneeling man and a slightly bowing figure rolling up his billowing sleeve, as well as the man at the front who points towards the kings. Their largely plain draperies hang in long, heavy folds that appear natural rather than decorative, their simplicity in keeping with Filippino's style.

The landscape, with wooded hills and a winding river with a single boat leading to the townscape of tall buildings, is derived from a Netherlandish painting by a follower of Jan van Eyck (The Stigmatisation of Saint Francis, Philadelphia Museum of Art). It may have been known to Florentine artists through drawings made after the painting, a common practice which here shows the popularity of northern European motifs in Florence.

Style: Early Renaissance
This is the outer side of the left-hand shutter of an altarpiece from the Benedictine abbey at Werden, near Cologne. It would have been visible when the shutters were closed over the central part of the altarpiece, which has not been traced. The outer face of the right-hand shutter is also painted with four standing saints.

The inner faces of the shutters show scenes from the life of Saint Hubert, who is also shown here, with two other bishop saints. The miniature stag on the Bible he holds refers to his miraculous vision of Christ, which prompted his conversion. Furthest to the left is Saint Augustine, who holds a heart pierced with an arrow, a symbol of God's love. Next is Saint Ludger, who founded the abbey at Werden in about 800 and was made Bishop of Münster shortly afterwards. The saint dressed in armour, carrying a banner and a shield, might be Gereon, a Roman soldier who was martyred along with the other members of the so-called Theban Legion.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
Shepherds kneel and stand in order to praise the baby Jesus, watched by Joseph and the Virgin Mary (Luke 2: 15--16). The stone archway frames an earlier episode: the same shepherds fall over in surprise as an angel appear in the clouds to announce Christ's birth to them (Luke 2: 8--14).

Following an old tradition in painting, Poussin includes both parts of the story and paints them as if they are happening at the same time. The architecture separates the foreground scene from the activity in the background. The stable is built within the ruins of a classical building with columns that frame the scene, symbolising the collapse of paganism and the triumph of Christianity.

The shepherds and women eagerly await their turn to meet the baby Jesus. Their poses and gestures reveal their excitement: one shepherd prays while another moves towards him and is about to kneel, and a woman holds her hands against her chest. Behind them, two men point towards the foreground scene.

A young lady enters the scene carrying a 'birth tray' of fruits as a present to the new mother -- these were popular in Italy, and appear in Renaissance paintings of the Nativity. She hurries forwards, her flamboyant drapery billowing behind her as she moves. Its vivid blue, and that of Mary's clothing, stands out against the men's ruddy skin and the copper stone of the buildings. Poussin's interest in classical antiquity is clear in the rigid drapery folds and the shepherds' muscular appearance, which are based on ancient statues. This scene includes many intricate details: Christ's straw bed, the cherubs' flowers and each feather of their wings, and a variety of fruit.

This subject was painted frequently during the seventeenth century. The National Gallery owns several examples by the Le Nain Brothers, Barent Fabritius, Giovanni Baptista Spinelli and Guido Reni.

Style: Baroque, Academic
In this painting by Garofalo we see the meeting between the infant Christ and his cousin, Saint John the Baptist. Christ has risen from his cradle to greet John and accept a goldfinch from him. The goldfinch is traditionally associated with Christ's Passion because of the legend that one flew down and took a thorn from Christ's crown of thorns and its own head was marked red with Christ's blood.

John the Baptist is held by his mother Saint Elizabeth, the Virgin Mary's cousin. The older man whose hand is raised in amazement between the two children is Elizabeth's husband, Zacharias. Elizabeth and Zacharias miraculously conceived their son when they were both elderly.

Both Christ and the Baptist stand on the sides of an elaborate golden cradle of a classical design. The cradle's foot is decorated with two bearded cherubim with intertwined tails. There is a similar cradle in The Holy Family dated 1533 by Garofalo, now in the Royal Collection (Hampton Court). It is likely that the National Gallery's painting is a little earlier and dates from the 1520s.

The bearded man on the right leaning his head on his hand, covered with his orange cloak, is the Virgin Mary's husband, Saint Joseph. The male saint behind Saint Elizabeth has the distinctive haircut (tonsure) and habit of a monk. He must be a much later follower of Christ and therefore couldn't have been present in the episode depicted. He may be Saint Francis, although his habit is a cream colour rather than the usual brown of the Franciscan Order.

Above the meeting, God the Father appears among a throng of musician angels. They seem to have sailed into the room on a bank of clouds through the open window. God points up towards the golden light of heaven, through which we can make out a multitude of faces belonging to the saved souls in heaven. His triangular halo represents the Trinity: God the Father, Christ and the Holy Ghost.

The view through the window is of a north Italian town of Garofalo's time. A shepherd sits on the grass minding his sheep while two people stand and converse on a path. Garofalo may have included this contemporary view to emphasise the presence of the holy figures and God himself in everyday life.

The prominence of the cradle in this painting suggests that Garofalo knew one or more of Raphael's works, several of which feature a similar composition. Garofalo may have seen Raphael's original paintings or engravings of them. In Raphael's Holy Family of Francis I, dated 1518 and sent to France in that year (now in the Louvre, Paris), Christ springs from a similar cradle and Joseph, behind the Virgin, looks on with his hand on his cheek. The heavenly choir in the clouds suggests that Garofalo had also studied Marcantonio Raimondi's engraving of Raphael's first composition for the Saint Cecilia Altarpiece (Pinacoteca Nazionale, Bologna).

The painting almost certainly came from the collection of the Duke of Ferrara. It was transferred from panel to canvas, probably in the early nineteenth century, and has been cropped on all sides.

Style: High Renaissance
A biblical heroine, Judith, stands beside a mythological hero, Hercules, depicted as an infant; though seemingly unrelated, both are examples of fortitude. Judith, a Jewish widow, is shown holding the head of Holofernes, an Assyrian general. According to the apocryphal Book of Judith, while the Assyrians were besieging her city of Bethulia, Judith put on her finery and went to the enemy camp. When Holofernes invited her to his tent and tried to seduce her, she took advantage of his drunken stupor and beheaded him with his own sword. She carried his head home in triumph, and it was hung from city walls. On the right, the infant Hercules strangles two serpents sent by the jealous goddess Juno to kill him.

According to classical and Renaissance authors, courageous deeds were more impressive if performed by weak or undistinguished persons, such as women or children. Here the painter shows a woman and a child, both naked to stress their vulnerability.

The figure of Judith seems to be based on woodcuts by Lucas Cranach the Elder, and the idea of showing nude figures against a black sky could have been suggested by the paintings of Cranach or Albrecht Dürer. The Master of the Mansi Magdalen was a follower of Quinten Massys but also copied from Dürer's engravings and woodcuts, and borrowed from prints by other artists, including Cranach, Albrecht Altdorfer and Marcantonio Raimondi. The style of this picture seems consistent with that of the 'Mansi Magdalen' (Staatliche Mueseun, Berlin) itself and the related Salvator Mundi (Philadelphia Museum of Art). All three may have been produced around 1530.

Style: High Renaissance
Saint Bartholomew sits alone in the wilderness. His expression is one of grim determination, at once horrified and resolved. Enveloped in the folds of his mantle, he turns towards us, unable to look at the knife clasped in his left hand. This will be the tool of his martyrdom, for Bartholomew was flayed alive.

One of the twelve apostles, Bartholomew was said to have preached the gospel in India and in Armenia. When he refused to make a sacrifice to the local gods, he was horribly killed, first stripped of his skin and then beheaded. Gruesome depictions of Bartholomew’s martyrdom were popular in seventeenth-century Naples and often showed the act of flaying in progress.

This painting’s power comes from how extremely it has been pared back. Bartholomew is the sole protagonist in this almost monochromatic, intensely psychological picture. Stark light illuminates the mantle and the flesh, which provides the only colour in a work otherwise composed of silvery grey tones. We are not confronted here with violence: rather, it is the threat and imminence of violence that is so menacing. White highlights gleam on the blade and handle of the knife; the rope, which will be used to bind the apostle, dangles ominously above. Instead of witnessing Bartholomew’s flayed flesh, the picture is dominated by the creamy mantle, whose folds are so elaborate that they cannot help but make us think of skin. Whether in the crisply delineated edges of the fabric or the strong sense of outline created by pulling the white paint right up to the flesh, everything seems to allude to layers and unpeeling, the act of incision unseen but ever-present. The skin itself is beautifully painted, the visible brushmarks on the shoulder, for example, giving it a strikingly realistic texture.

One of the leading Neapolitan artists of the seventeenth century, Cavallino was renowned for his harmonious colours, virtuoso brushwork and dramatic compositions. Extraordinarily little is known about his life, and only one of his paintings is signed and dated. He was strongly influenced by Jusepe de Ribera (1591–1652), and seems to have mostly worked for private patrons, producing small, sensitive paintings of mythological and Biblical subjects.

This life-size depiction of Saint Bartholomew, with its drama and intensity, is one of Cavallino’s masterpieces. Although we do not know for whom he painted it, its size and grandeur suggest it was an important commission. It probably dates from the latter years of the artist’s life, in which he became increasingly focussed on the emotional power of his works.

Style: Baroque
In a quiet, dark room, a little girl folds her hands to say grace. She looks straight ahead as she has been taught to do when at prayer by her mother -- her gaze is fixed so that nothing can tempt her away from her devotions. Emblem books and instruction from the church laid emphasis on the importance of the family in the teaching of morals and guiding the spirit of the child to the right path -- for a girl, marriage, motherhood and the family. This was best done, it was thought, at the family table when food was served.

The little girl's brother stands behind her, his hands beneath his wide-brimmed hat; perhaps they are folded too, ready to pray. He looks out at us, inviting us to see them as an example of the pious family, content with their lot however humble. The father sits in the shadows, cutting a loaf of black rye bread, the door open behind him. The family isn't wealthy. The single toy is a home-made sailboat built from the wooden sole of a shoe. The food is sparse. The earthenware soup tureen hardly holds enough to feed a family of four -- but grace must be said in gratitude for what little they have. The mother stirs the tureen, her eyes lowered modestly, intent on her task. She's neat and clean. A shaft of light from an unseen window catches the white of her shift and her bonnet, her hair tucked out of sight, as one day the little girl's fair curls will be tamed and held captive too.

So here is an orderly, devout household, the adults training the children in godly ways -- until you come to the dog. Typically, a dog licking a bowl on a kitchen floor in a painting of this period was a sign that all wasn't well in the family -- that it was slovenly and therefore probably immoral. Another reading of the image is that the little girl isn't thinking of her prayers but that her gaze is fastened on the soup. The boy's hands aren't folded beneath the hat, he isn't about to join the prayers, he's simply staring. Neither parent looks to see if the children are doing their duty. They simply get on with putting the food on the table. In that case the dog stands for the dark side.

But if the first reading is correct, the dog is simply a warning of what can go wrong if children aren't properly brought up, that they are naturally wicked unless educated and disciplined properly. The picture gives you the choice.

Jan Steen's paintings epitomise the two sides of Dutch ideas of behaviour in the mid-seventeenth century. Steen kept an inn as well as being a popular and successful artist, so had the chance to observe a broad spectrum of humanity at close quarters. Many of his paintings take us into a colourful, funny, bawdy world, apparently to make an example of bad behaviour but also to make us laugh. He also shows us the gentle, inspiring life led by the good and faithful family, bringing up their children well in adversity with only the occasional dog to give us cause to wonder.

Style: Baroque
This panel once formed the inner part of the left-hand shutter of an altarpiece made for the Benedictine abbey at Werden, near Cologne. The inner face of the right-hand shutter, which is also in the National Gallery's collection, shows the Mass of Saint Hubert.

Saint Hubert is shown kneeling in prayer in front of a vision of Christ on the Cross, which has miraculously appeared between the antlers of a stag. Hubert had been out hunting with his dogs in the forest of Ardennes on Good Friday, the day that Christians commemorate Christ's crucifixion, when he had this miraculous vision of Christ, which converted him to Christianity. This panel shows him kneeling in adoration before the Crucifix. The hunting dogs, in contrast to Hubert's stillness, bare their teeth at the stag, the object of their hunt. A page restrains Hubert's startled horse, which seems to be still in the process of coming to a halt, emphasising the suddenness of Hubert's dismount. In the meantime, the hunt continues in the hillside above.

Images of Saint Hubert's vision of Christ do not appear before the fourteenth century -- 600 years after his death -- when it is thought that his legend was combined with that of Saint Eustace, who was converted in the same way (see The Vision of Saint Eustace by Pisanello). Before his conversion, Hubert was a courtier ​in Metz, a city in the eastern Frankish Kingdom, and an enthusiastic hunter. The artist has evoked his wealth and status through his elaborate clothing -- his gold damask tunic is edged with fur, and slashed to reveal his red velvet sleeve beneath. After his vision, Hubert gave up all of his possessions and began to preach Christianity in the Ardennes, becoming the principal evangelist of the area. He became Bishop of Liège in 716.

The image is carefully composed: the narrative unfolds from left to right, and Hubert kneels in prayer facing the right -- towards the holy apparition, but also in the direction of the altarpiece's central panel, which may have included holy figures like the Virgin Mary and Christ. He is separated from the stag and vision by a stony path, which not only distinguishes human from divine but also leads into a wooded glade and beyond to a mountainous landscape, painted in blue to suggest its distance. The sky is made of gold leaf which would have shimmered in the light of the candles on the altar.  The painting also has an imagined internal light source: careful shadows, for example beneath Hubert's bent right leg, suggest a crisp daylight.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance