
Christ Bearing the Cross, with a Dominican Friar
Christ looks back over the cross at a tiny Dominican friar kneeling in the corner, the patron drawn into the road to Calvary.

Christ looks back over the cross at a tiny Dominican friar kneeling in the corner, the patron drawn into the road to Calvary.

No bigger than a page, and one of very few works securely given to Cimabue, whom Dante named the best painter of his day.

John stands lost in his book, wrapped in red cloth massed like masonry. One wing of an altarpiece now scattered across five cities.

The body pushed close to the viewer and lit in sharp pools. The Carracci taught a generation to weld grandeur to direct feeling.

This is only the angel. Mary received the message on a companion panel, and the two now hang together as a pair.

Manet cut up the original canvas because he was unhappy with it, and this is one of the surviving pieces.

A regiment posed around its cannon like a group photograph that has gone charmingly rigid. Rousseau was a customs officer painting in his spare time.

Hot pinks and oranges laid on freely, a year before Cézanne and Picasso's Demoiselles sent Braque off toward Cubism instead.

The Bauhaus grids and circles have given way to floating amoebas. Kandinsky in Paris at the end, inventing a biology instead.

A milkmaid, a herdsman and two cows, and almost nothing happening. One of the first prints to take peasants as a subject worth the burin.

Christ preaches from a hilltop and is almost too small to find. Claude was really painting the hills, the water and the distance.

A woman in a white corset seen from behind, painted so loosely the picture seems to stop just before the image settles.

A man and a white horse in a Tahitian grove, painted on Gauguin's first stay, flat and warm and looking for a paradise.

Beckmann came out of the war traumatized and painted a Christ so emaciated and angular that no consolation survives the picture.

Black bars crossing a white ground, enlarged from small ink sketches so the speed and weight of the arm survive the scaling up.

President, wife, child, bishop and general, all inflated into balloons and posed with great solemnity in front of a volcano.

The Devil offers all the kingdoms of the world, rendered as tiny gold-edged walled towns scattered down the slopes, and is refused.

Not the desert hermit but the Doctor of the Church, in cardinal's red with one long hand resting on his own translation of the Bible.

Plain village houses on a hillside, built in solid earthy blocks. Pissarro refused to prettify the countryside and gave it structural weight instead.

Only the mouth and chin survive, in honey-yellow jasper, and the break seems to concentrate the thing rather than diminish it.