
Fragment of a Crucifixion
Bacon used the shape of the cross as an armature for meat rather than religion, with a snarling animal fixed on top.

Bacon used the shape of the cross as an armature for meat rather than religion, with a snarling animal fixed on top.

A family at breakfast, posed so stiffly in the glare that the comfortable room turns faintly airless. Every surface is built from dots.

Rembrandt was barely in his twenties and using his own face as a laboratory for light. Dozens more would follow over forty years.

A toppled glass, a lamp still smoking, a watch and a skull, all painted in browns and greys so the light does the work.

Hundreds of tiny figures skating, sledging and falling over on one frozen river. Avercamp was deaf and mute and known as the mute of Kampen.

The parents sing and drink and a toddler is handed a pipe. A note in the picture reads: as the old sing, so the young pipe.

Hals left this militia portrait unfinished and another painter finished the right-hand figures, a join you can still see if you look.

One child hugs her presents while a boy howls because his shoe held nothing but a birch rod, and the grandmother beckons with a secret.

A married couple sitting on the grass, leaning into each other and visibly amused, which is not how marriage portraits were done.

He raises his glass and talks straight at you, painted in slashing strokes laid down about as fast as the moment they catch.

Van Gogh made the faces deliberately coarse and the browns deliberately muddy, wanting it clear that these people had dug the meal themselves.

He painted it for his brother's newborn son, named Vincent after him, and cropped the boughs against the sky like a Japanese print.

Van Gogh set up outside and painted the terrace on the spot after dark, pleased that he had used no black at all.

Three paths run into the wheat and none of them go anywhere. Painted at Auvers in his last weeks, and read too neatly ever since.

A kitchen maid pours a thin stream of milk in ordinary daylight, given the weight and stillness usually reserved for saints.

Not a portrait of anyone in particular but a tronie, a study of a type, which somehow made her the most looked-at girl in art.

Rembrandt was twenty-five and new in Amsterdam when the surgeons' guild hired him, and he built every head in the room around one lifted tendon.

A militia company surges out of the shadow with a dog barking and a girl glowing among the men. Varnish, not night, made it dark.

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