
The Guitarist
A young man glances up from his guitar mid-song. Greuze usually painted tearful moral lessons, and here he simply does not.

A young man glances up from his guitar mid-song. Greuze usually painted tearful moral lessons, and here he simply does not.

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

Dante had been dead nearly two centuries, so this is not a likeness but a verdict, struck in profile like a coin.

An inscription gives his age as ninety-three. Dürer drew him in Antwerp and used the head soon after for a Saint Jerome.

Two fingers raised in a gesture reaching back to Byzantium, one hand on a crystal orb, the face long and sorrowful and unmistakably his.

Washington leans on a cannon with captured flags at his feet. Peale knew him and served in the war, so this is the man.

They shared a Barcelona studio, and Soto was known as a hard drinker, but Picasso painted him sober and sad in blue.

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.

Caught mid-strum with his cap askew and his mouth open, painted so fast the brushstrokes still seem to be moving.

Cocteau sits stiffly upright with his neck drawn long, one of the sharpest personalities in Paris turned into an elegant mask.

Memling put his sitters in front of open countryside instead of a dark ground, an idea that traveled to Italy and came back changed.

Painted in hot colored beeswax and bound over the face of a mummy. The strokes are still visible and the eyes startlingly present.

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

Cézanne cared less who the man was than whether the head would hold together as structure, and the slight asymmetries keep it alive.

He swivels over his shoulder to look at you, holding a block that nobody can identify, and his name has been lost entirely.

Richelieu appears three times on one canvas so that a sculptor in Rome could carve a bust without ever meeting him.

A peasant looks up from his beans as though caught, spoon halfway to his mouth. Painted decades before Caravaggio's followers made a career of this.

Cold competence and nothing else. Holbein painted him as a near-pendant to Thomas More, whom Cromwell helped send to the scaffold.

Fruit already spotting toward rot, painted with the same attention as the boy holding it. An early statement of what Caravaggio intended.

Raphael had just arrived in Florence and studied the Mona Lisa hard, then did the same pose in clear light instead of smoke.