wrmthorne/National_Gallery_style_classification huggingface dataset:
This small painting on wood was painted in the same year as A Girl Seated outside a House, also in the National Gallery’s collection. The two paintings have several common features. These include a young girl (probably the same model) wearing jewellery, seen in profile on the right of the picture, a town with a church spire and even sunflowers in almost identical positions.

Jacob Maris reused many of these elements in another painting, Girl Knitting on a Balcony, Montmartre (Gemeentemuseum, The Hague). Painted two years later in 1869, this larger picture, showing the girl full length, also includes a caged bird.

Although Maris belonged to The Hague School of realist painters, it is tempting to see a symbolic aspect to the image of a caged bird (such as loss of freedom) or perhaps a reference to eighteenth-century portraits of girls with birds by French artists such as Greuze.

Style: Realist
The Virgin Mary is shown in close-up with the Christ Child cradled in one arm in front of a cloth of honour. She wears a purple dress, which now looks greyish, with turned back cuffs. Christ is balanced rather precariously on the shelf at the front, his limbs awkwardly splayed in a contorted pose, perhaps to display his genitals as a reminder of his humanity. He reaches out to grasp the carnations that his mother holds. Carnations -- nagelbloem ('nail-flowers') in Dutch -- were associated with the Crucifixion.

The composition is a distant echo of Dirk Bouts' painting The Virgin and Child. The artist is unknown, but was probably working in or near Bruges around 1490. His figure types are similar to those of an artist known as the Master of the Saint Ursula Legend. By the standards of the day, the artist ​was a poor draughtsman. ​He placed the eyes too far away from the nose, could not draw hands in proportion to bodies, and was unable to articulate legs, arms and fingers. He was however a passably competent painter. Perhaps he was the son of a painter compelled to take up his father'​s craft in order to inherit his business.

The paint surface is obscured by dirt and discoloured varnishes. A scratch through the Virgin's mouth and losses in the eyes of all the figures may be the result of deliberate damage.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
A boy sits in a dark room, but a glimmer of light through the window reveals his face and the dead mouse he holds in one hand. The other hand covers the mousetrap. This is not a portrait but an imaginary situation, intended as an entertainment and, possibly, a moral lesson.

The boy seems to be dressed in the fashion of the sixteenth century. A white shirt gleams at the open neck of a brocade doublet, yet the feather in his hat and the outsize bow holding back his long, black curls are more the style of the late 1670s, when the picture was painted. Far from celebrating ridding the household of a pest, the boy lifts his chin to gaze into the distance as if in a dream. His wistful expression would suggest that it’s not the triumph of catching the mouse he’s dreaming of, but something -- or someone -- nearer to his heart and yet far away. In the eighteenth century the painting still had a pendant, A Boy putting a Bird in a Cage, which is now lost. It has been suggested that the two pictures formed a related pair whose subject is moderation in love.

In classical literature, the image of a mouse and mousetrap was used to symbolise the punishment of overindulgence; poets of the seventeenth century carried on the tradition, particularly in matters of love. One of them, Jacob Cats, also wrote popular emblem books on morals and correct behaviour, so such imagery would have been widely understood -- if you are trapped by love, you are unaware of the world around you and lost in dreams. The correct place for love was thought to be in marriage. The birdcage in the lost picture might have been interpreted in two ways, possibly depending on whether the bird was shown singing or not. Being a captive to love can be a pleasure, but can also prevent you from engaging with the world.

We don’t know who, if anyone, commissioned the picture, it was painted quite early in Adriaen van der Werff’s career. Later, when he had found success, he became court painter to the Elector Palatine Johann Wilhelm in Düsseldorf, and was created a knight in 1703.

Style: Baroque
Only one altarpiece has been ascribed with certainty to the Master of the Castello Nativity -- the one made for Santi Giusto e Clemente in Faltugnano, just north of the Tuscan town of Prato (and now in the Museo dell'opera del Duomo, Prato). Our picture comes from the predella of that altarpiece.

The scene is set just outside a simple structure; its thatched roof is propped up at one corner with the branch of a tree. This is the stable where, according to the Bible, Christ was born. We see the Virgin Mary and Joseph kneeling in adoration before the infant Christ, and an ox and donkey have made room for the child. Unusually for a painting showing the birth and adoration of Christ there’s a maid in the stable drying a cloth before a fire -- the flames make the wall glow pink.

The artist has set the scene in surroundings that would have been familiar to viewers at the time: the architecture of the town in the distance resembles that of fifteenth-century Tuscany. On the hillside are two shepherds; one looks up towards golden rays that have appeared in the night sky. This detail is a reference to a scene described in the Gospel of Luke, when the Archangel Gabriel appeared to shepherds to announce Christ's birth.

Much of the picture is quite plain and simple -- the landscape and stable in particular -- but the artist has paid careful attention to certain parts, such as the buckle on the donkey’s saddle and the fine transparent veil swaddling the baby and covering the Virgin Mary’s hands. This detail might be a reference to the moment in church liturgy when the priest covers his hands to handle sacred objects, and so here is a sign of Christ's divinity.

The altarpiece that this panel comes from showed the Virgin Mary enthroned with the infant Christ on her knee, with the church’s patron saints, Giusto and Clemente, standing to her left and right. Two other predella panels, both showing stories from the lives of Saints Giusto and Clemente, are now in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Our picture, which is the same height but slightly longer, was probably the central image, placed between them. The artist was probably a pupil of Fra Filippo Lippi and it has been suggested that the altarpiece might have been made in Lippi's workshop and designed by Lippi himself.

Style: Gothic, Early Renaissance
The picture is unfinished and misleadingly restored in part. 

Piazzetta treated the Sacrifice of Isaac in a number of compositions; this one was intended for an altarpiece. A date of about 1735 has been suggested for the painting but it may be of a few years later.

Style: Baroque, Rococo
Lovis Corinth (1858–1925), was a key figure of German modernist art. Active since 1892 in the Munich Secession, in 1899 Corinth participated in the first exhibition of the Berlin Secession, of which Liebermann was President. That same year he painted Dr Mainzer’s portrait, also in Berlin, and shortly afterwards he relocated permanently to the capital. Corinth’s arrival in Berlin at the turn-of-the-century is widely seen as the moment when that city superseded Munich as the principal locus of avant-garde art in Germany.  In time Corinth would assume the Presidency of the Secession in succession to Liebermann.

Ferdinand Mainzer was one of the most fascinating cultural figures in Berlin circa 1900.  A German-Jewish gynaecologist, he was also an historian and writer – his Life of Julius Caesar was highly regarded - and a member of avant-garde circles.  As has been noted, he turned to writing history because an injury to his hand meant he could not pursue his surgical interests. Mainzer’s biography of Caesar was translated into English and French, and is said to have inspired (among other works) the American playwright and novelist Thornton Wilder’s The Ides of March (first published in 1948).

It was no accident that Mainzer was among the first people Corinth met when he joined the Berlin Secession, nor that the doctor should commission his portrait from the brash artist from Munich whom everyone was talking about. Mainzer’s wife, Gertrude, was a pupil of Corinth’s old friend Walter Leistikow.

The Portrait of Dr Ferdinand Mainzer is a key transitional work in Corinth’s career, painted in the Impressionist style influenced by his mentor Liebermann but already exhibiting – see the sombre palette and bravura paint handling – intimations of the Expressionism that would come to the fore in his art in the following decade. Corinth immediately captures sophistication, wit, perhaps a touch of superciliousness, in Mainzer’s ultra-refined personality, as the doctor leans back in his chair to peer sceptically at the artist through pince-nez. There is a wonderful play between the sitter’s raised eyebrows and his perfectly manicured and twirled moustache. According to Mainzer family lore, the two quickly became, and long remained, friends.

Mainzer’s later life was only more surprising. In the 1930s, through his friendship with the charismatic Jesuit priest, Friedrich Erxleben, he became active in the so-called Solf Circle, a Roman Catholic group fiercely – and at considerable danger to themselves – opposed to Hitler and Nazi rule. Mainzer and his family fled Berlin with the help of Circle members, as the SS closed in (betrayed by a Gestapo infiltrator, most remaining members of the Circle were executed in 1944). The Mainzer family came first to London. Mainzer himself, together with his wife, soon moved on to America where he died in exile in Los Angeles in 1943, amidst its extraordinary expatriate German / Austrian intellectual community - Adorno, Mann, Reinhardt, Schoenberg – and where he is buried.

Style: Post-Impressionist
This portrait of a middle-aged man was once thought to be a self portrait by Joseph Ducreux in which he is dressed as a French abbot, with powdered hair. The style of clothes and hair date the picture to the 1790s. Although Ducreux did paint self portraits, this face lacks identifying features that can be seen in confirmed self portraits from this period. Ducreux also painted several abbots during his career, but none match the man we see here. The painting has, however, been identified as one of five pictures that Ducreux exhibited at the Royal Academy in London in 1791, where it may have had the title Portrait of a Gentleman by Du Creux, R.A.. Based upon a handwritten note found in a copy of the exhibition catalogue, the sitter for that portrait has traditionally been associated with the name ‘M. Le Texier.’

If this is indeed a portrait of a Monsieur Le Texier, he is most likely Antony Le Texier. Born in Lyons around 1737, Le Texier became famous for his dramatic readings, and he even lectured at the royal court in Paris. In 1775--6 he made his first visit to England, where his talks were popular among wealthy London families. In London he became friends with David Garrick, the leading actor and theatre manager of his time, with whom he initially collaborated before becoming his competitor. Although there is no documentary evidence to connect  Le Texier with Ducreux, nor are there any confirmed portraits of him, it is quite possible that during his own stay in London Ducreux could have met and painted his fellow countryman who, like him, was  known for his short temper.

Le Texier’s profession as a dramatic reader and performer may partly explain the striking expression of the man we see in this picture. Facing us directly, his eyes staring ahead intensely, he resembles a tête d’expression (a painted or sculpted head specifically created to display an emotion). Ducreux was known for his animated self portraits, a genre that was particularly appreciated in England, and many of these were engraved. Before the French Revolution of 1789, he was a successful portraitist at the court of Louis XVI, but his self portraits break with the limitations and conventions of formal and official portraiture. They also show Ducreux’s fascination with physiognomy – the pseudo-science that claimed the study of a person’s outward appearance, particularly the head and face, reveals their personality or character. In this picture, the black coat and waistcoat and the dark background particularly emphasise the man’s face. The strong lighting of the head, which casts the left side of the face in deep shadow, further heightens the drama and makes it seem as though we are looking at a performance rather than a natural expression.

The painting is covered by a thick layer of yellow varnish, and the attribution to Ducreux is not certain. He spent only months in London, producing just a few paintings while there. But if this painting is indeed by him, it is the only one in a British public collection.

Style: Neoclassical
This portrait was once thought to be of Elisa Bonaparte (1777--1820), a younger sister of Napoleon Bonaparte. However, the young woman has not yet been identified. At one time attributed to Jacques-Louis David, the portrait has been claimed to be both French and Italian -- the hills in the background suggest that it may have been painted in Italy. Although the artist is not yet known, this is a finely painted portrait. The flowing lines of the neoclassical clothing, based upon a revival of Greco-Roman styles, and the clean outline of the woman, whose body is seen in profile, indicate that it was painted in the very early years of the nineteenth century.

The portrait was left unfinished and has been painted over the outline of a seated male nude, which is perhaps the work of another artist and was possibly part of a larger composition that has been turned on its side. Some of the man’s outline is still visible, particularly on the left of the picture.

Style: Realist, Neoclassical
A man stares out of the painting as if deep in thought, one finger inserted between the pages of a book. He is gazing upwards as if towards the sky, and his arm rests on a celestial globe, suggesting he is an astronomer. Globes like this one were often decorated with constellations and zodiac signs relating to ancient Greek gods and goddesses. Just visible, the base of a classical column is another nod to the ancient Greek world: astronomical knowledge was important among ancient Greek philosophers, who believed that by studying the stars we could learn about our future. Their scientific discoveries were passed down to modern astronomers.

We don't know who the sitter is, but he is unlikely to be René Descartes, the French philosopher and mathematician whose name is written on a folded piece of paper to the right. Parts of the man's costume, particularly the wig and neckband of the shirt, date from the 1670s, and Descartes died in 1650.

A portrait of an astronomer would have been topical in about 1670 since the Observatoire Royal was built in an area south of Paris between 1668 and 1772. The building was designed by Claude Perrault (1613--1688) at the suggestion of the astronomer Adrien Auzout (died 1691). The man we see here is too young to be Perrault, but he could be Auzout, whose date of birth is not known, who invented the telescope micrometer (though this in not shown in the portrait).

This inscription also incorrectly attributes this painting to Mignard. The styles of Pierre and his brother Nicolas are quite different from that of Gabriel Revel, who is now thought to have painted this work. During the 1670s Revel spent time working in Paris. In 1683 he became a member of the Académie Royale, submitting portraits of the sculptors François Girardon, now in Musée National du Château, Versailles, and Michel Anguier, location unknown.

The Gallery owns several other seventeenth-century works that explore the astronomy theme, including Ferdinand Bol's An Astronomer and Olivier van Deuren's A Young Astronomer. Holbein's The Ambassadors  also includes two magnificent terrestrial and celestial globes.

Style: Baroque
A young woman gazes provocatively out of the painting at us. Her head is tilted to one side and her eyes directly meet ours. A long gold necklace lies on her flushed chest and loops down between her breasts. She rests one hand in her lap and the other on a green velvet cushion decorated with gold braid. In the fingers of her right hand she holds a posy including a little yellow flower. A red carnation, sprig of thyme and frond of white jasmine are tucked into her chemise, which has slipped from her shoulder to reveal her left breast.

In some paintings a carnation seems to have been included as a token of fidelity, so the flower was popular in betrothal portraits. This may not be the portrait of a particular woman as her state of undress and her direct look would have been regarded as shocking. The painting was certainly intended to have erotic appeal. It could perhaps have been a painting of an ideal beauty, a mistress portrayed for her lover, or the portrait of a Venetian courtesan. Pictures of alluring young women were popular subjects for sixteenth-century Venetian painters such as Titian, and especially Palma Vecchio. Palma's A Blonde Woman of about 1520 also reveals a breast and holds a posy of flowers.

This is probably a seventeenth-century copy of an original painting by Paris Bordone, rather than just a picture painted in his style. There is at least one other existing version by Bordone himself. The way the highlights here have been painted as spots on the gilt ornament of the cushion is very similar to Bordone's technique. The slight flush on the lady's upper chest is also common to Bordone's other paintings of women, such as the Portrait of a Young Woman, and is rarely seen in the work of other painters. These details suggest that the artist who painted this picture had seen an original by Bordone.

The painting has been severely flattened and probably damaged by heat when a second canvas was applied to the reverse of the original to strengthen it some time before 1870. Most of the surface of the painting is cracked. It is worn in several places -- especially the flesh of the woman's left shoulder, the shadows of her hair, and her crimson drapery -- and the varnish has also darkened. This damage has altered the painting's appearance.

Style: High Renaissance
A meandering river leads our eye from a working watermill on the right and folk washing clothes at the shoreline towards a jumble of buildings, one with its chimney gently smoking, and the crew of a boat unloading their cargo. As the river curves out of view we come to a peaceful landscape, with trees lining the horizon. The bright sun highlights the details of the buildings and the figure on horseback giving money to a beggar, and contrasts with patches of deep shadow that also guide us through the picture.

Like its companion painting, Buildings and Figures near a River with Rapids, this work was inspired by the Italian countryside, particularly the areas surrounding Michele Marieschi's home city of Venice, where he spent most of his career.

Style: Baroque, Rococo
Immediately identifiable by his long hair, beard and gesture of blessing, this kind of small close-up 'portrait' of Christ was hugely popular as an object of private devotion in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Such portraits were produced in a number of workshops  both north and south of the Alps.

But how could a Renaissance artist paint a portrait of someone who died in the first century? The idea of a portrait of Christ shown straight on and close up, often known as the Holy Face, was originally devised by Jan van Eyck, although his painting does not survive. His way of showing Christ -- with widely spaced eyes and smoothly arched eyebrows running down into a long nose -- was intended to resemble miraculous images that were thought not to have been made by human hands: the veil of Saint Veronica, which had been used to wipe Christ's face on the way to the Crucifixion, and the Mandylion of Edessa, the portrait Christ made by pressing his face to a piece of cloth. Christ sent this to the King of Edessa, curing him of a fatal illness. The image of the Holy Face became hugely popular and was reproduced many times -- you can see a copy of it on the parchment in the background of Portrait of a Young Man.

Christ had of course been painted before van Eyck. Italian panel paintings of the thirteenth and fourteenth century by Cimabue and Giotto and earlier mosaics show a calm, stately, bearded Christ, hand raised in blessing.  This type was imported into Netherlandish art by Rogier van der Weyden after a trip to Italy. His Braque Triptych of about 1452 (now in the Louvre, Paris) shows a similar Christ, one hand raised, the other holding a globe: the so-called 'Saviour of the World'. He perhaps also painted a small picture showing a half-length Christ blessing, with the other hand resting on the frame or parapet instead of holding a globe. A number of versions of this survive from the fifteenth-century Netherlands, including one by Hans Memling.

Netherlandish painting was hugely popular in Italy, and the idea was picked up by Italian painters, including Antonello da Messina and Andrea Previtali. Benedetto Diana's depiction follows Antonello's Christ Blessing closely. Christ has neither crown, halo nor orb to help us identify him. He is dressed in red and blue, and is shown behind a small parapet. Like Antonello, Diana has signed his name on a cartellino attached to the parapet. Christ's right arm is rotated so that the edge is towards us, and the fingers of his left hand are stacked on top of each other so that they seem to jut outwards. His hands and arm cast shadows both across his body and on the parapet, emphasising his physical reality. His left hand rests on the parapet's edge and his right arm reaches over it, making us feel as if Christ shares our space -- and making him more immediately accessible to the Renaissance worshipper.

Style: High Renaissance
We look across a vast landscape. In the middle of the scene, a washerwoman walks along a dirt track, her clothing bright in the sun. Beyond her, further up the mountain, a shepherd drives his flock onward; in the foreground, two pairs of figures chat.

This large-scale picture was probably painted by Crescenzio Onofri, a pupil of the landscape artist Dughet. The artist has incorporated trees to frame the scene, and a winding path and sweeping valley to lead our eye through the composition. Warm browns in the foreground gradually change to cool blues and greys in the mountains, creating a sense of distance.

Onofri moved from Rome to Florence in the 1690s. He collaborated with others artists, who added figures to his landscapes -- Francesco Petrucci probably worked on these ones. The companion piece to this painting, Landscape with Fishermen, is also in the National Gallery's collection.

Style: Baroque, Academic