
Great Fish Market
Hundreds of minutely painted fish, baskets and hagglers. They called him Velvet Bruegel for exactly this kind of finish.

Hundreds of minutely painted fish, baskets and hagglers. They called him Velvet Bruegel for exactly this kind of finish.

Beckmann painted the disaster a year after it happened, borrowing Géricault's raft, and it now reads as a rehearsal for the war.

One puff of steam drifts across a curving shoreline, the modern world putting a small mark on a landscape that had none.

Rivermen break off work for a card game on a flatboat, arranged with a stillness that lifts the scene toward history painting.

Notre-Dame across the Seine in a few dark summary strokes, painted before Matisse's color went off and Fauvism happened.

Masts splintering, survivors in the surf, and the whole thing arranged for people who wanted to feel terror from a safe distance.

Masts stand black against a sky going from gold to soft blue, and almost nothing else in the picture is solid.

A packet boat comes in at evening and Turner dissolves the city, the passengers and the river into a single sheet of gold.

Manet painted this beside Monet at Argenteuil and let the blue water climb all the way to the top edge of the canvas.

Monet went to Venice late and found a city already doing what he had spent fifty years trying to paint.

A door opens straight onto the water with no shore in between, and the only other thing in the picture is sunlight on a wall.

Monet's own father sits among the gladioli on a terrace, and the young painter tips the space up in flat bands like a Japanese print.

Monet painted Westminster across the river again and again because what he actually wanted was the fog, not the building.

A dark-suited oarsman fills the foreground with his back while the water rises behind with no horizon, a design taken from Japanese prints.

Two pale legs disappear into the sea in the corner while the ploughman keeps ploughing. Auden wrote a poem about exactly that indifference.

A man and three boys heel a catboat over into open water, painted in the centennial year and read ever since as the country's optimism.

Wilderness under storm on the left, farmland in sunshine on the right, and Cole himself down in the middle, tiny, looking up from his easel.

Gaslights along the Arles quay drop long quivering reflections into the water, the Great Bear overhead, a couple walking arm in arm below.

Rembrandt's only seascape, and one disciple is being sick over the side. Stolen from the Gardner Museum in 1990 and never recovered.

Brook Watson really did lose a leg to a shark in Havana harbor, and Copley put a Black sailor at the top of the rescue.

A trapper and his son drift downriver at first light with a chained animal at the prow, the water so still it doubles them.

Almost every detail is wrong, including the flag and the boat, and Leutze painted it in Germany seventy-five years after the fact.

Monet and Renoir set up side by side at this riverside resort and worked out the quick broken stroke that became Impressionism.

An empty pavilion, a few dry trees, no people at all. Ni Zan gave away his estate and spent his last years on a houseboat.

Working men bathe on the bank while factory chimneys smoke across the river, the figures given the weight of a classical frieze.

Rain falls as fine diagonal scratches over the bridge, a trick Van Gogh admired enough to copy the whole print in oil.

Turner took the Zong case, where a slaver threw its human cargo overboard for the insurance money, and set it under his most beautiful sunset.

Guo Xi was court painter to the Song emperor and worked from a theory of three distances, shifting the eye between peak, valley and horizon.

A critic seized on the word in the title to mock the whole group, and the insult ended up naming the movement.

A wall of rock fills two-thirds of the picture and shrinks the mule train below to nothing. Fan Kuan hid his signature in the leaves.

Twelve meters of blue and green mountains, ground from azurite and malachite by a court prodigy said to have died before he was twenty.

Vermeer painted his own city from across the harbor, almost his only townscape. Proust called it the most beautiful painting in the world.

Hokusai was in his seventies when he made this, using a Prussian blue newly imported from Europe, with Fuji small and calm in the trough.

Monet painted these eight murals of his pond for two oval rooms in Paris while his eyesight failed. They opened months after he died.