
Mona Lisa
She was probably Lisa Gherardini, a merchant's wife, and Leonardo kept reworking her for years and never handed the portrait over.

She was probably Lisa Gherardini, a merchant's wife, and Leonardo kept reworking her for years and never handed the portrait over.

A couple joins hands in a Bruges bedroom, and the mirror behind them catches two visitors at the door. Van Eyck signed the wall above it.

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.

Velázquez caught every wary line in the pope's face, and Innocent reportedly said it was troppo vero, too true. Francis Bacon reworked it for years.

Justinian carries the bread for the Eucharist in gold and purple, flanked by men who cast no shadow and stand on no ground.

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.

Two men pose with globes, sundials and a lute with a broken string, and a smear on the floor turns into a skull from the side.

Wood posed his sister and his dentist in front of a farmhouse window, and people have argued ever since whether he meant tribute or mockery.

Cecilia Gallerani turns as if someone has come in, and the ermine turns with her. It was her patron's emblem and a pun on her name.

Dürer faced himself head-on in a pose reserved for images of Christ, and wrote across the panel that he had painted it at twenty-eight.

Whistler called it Arrangement in Grey and Black and insisted it was about tone, not feeling. The sitter was his mother, and nobody was fooled.

Only the face and hands are painted naturally and the rest is gold. The Nazis seized it, and a long restitution case eventually got it back.

The strap fell off her shoulder in the 1884 version, Paris was scandalized, her family demanded it come down, and Sargent repainted the strap.

Sharaku made about 140 actor prints in ten months and then vanished so completely that people still argue about who he was.

Pareja was Velázquez's enslaved assistant, freed soon after this was painted in Rome as a warm-up before the pope sat for him.

Bacon took Velázquez's composed pope and set him screaming behind a curtain of falling paint. He never saw the original in person.

Three famous women of 1790s Edo on mica ground, their faces nearly identical, so you have to read them from the tilt of an eye.

A critic looked at this and called Matisse and his friends fauves, wild beasts, which is how the movement got its name.

The old painter holds his brushes and palette, and behind him two large arcs are drawn on the wall that nobody has explained.

The background ripples around his head like a current in the same blue-green as his suit, and his beard burns red against it.

Two versions of herself hold hands with one artery running between them, clamped shut. She painted it as her marriage to Rivera fell apart.

A clown in white satin stands alone at full length with his arms hanging useless, given the scale of a grand portrait.

Picasso pulled her out of the screaming mother in Guernica and gave her the face of Dora Maar, his lover and a photographer.

Rembrandt painted himself enthroned like a monarch, staff across his lap, in the same year bankruptcy took his house and everything in it.

A young horseman rides into the dusk armed and alert, and nobody has ever agreed who he is or where he is going.

Magritte called the floating apple a kind of self-portrait, about how much we want to see the thing that is being hidden.

The doctor who was caring for him leans his head on one hand, a sprig of foxglove on the table, the background rippling blue.

Bellini painted the brocade thread by thread and turned the official portrait from a profile on a coin into a man met face to face.

Erasmus rests his hands on a book whose edge is inscribed The Labors of Hercules, his own joke about how much scholarship costs.

He is neither laughing nor a cavalier. The lace and gold thread on that sleeve were flicked on in a few confident strokes.

Matisse ran a green stripe down his wife's face to divide warm from cool, and used color to do the work of light.

Painted on a convex parade shield, so the head bulges toward you at the exact instant of the scream. A showpiece gift for the Medici.

The old man's nose is swollen and ruined by disease, and the boy looks up at him without noticing it at all.

Delacroix saw a room like this once, on a trip to North Africa, and painted it from memory. Picasso later made fifteen variations on it.

Goya put himself at an easel in the shadows, as Velázquez had, and painted the royal family looking vacant, pompous or merely plain.

Freud sits on a wooden chair in three panels, wrenched out of shape and still unmistakably himself. Bacon painted his friend and rival.

A juniper bush stands behind her as a pun on her name. The panel was later cut down at the bottom, taking her hands with it.

Erasmus is caught mid-sentence with the pen still moving. He sent portraits like this across Europe as a kind of intellectual calling card.

At sixty-three the king still turns out one leg to show the dancer's calf he was proud of, under a cascade of ermine and fleurs-de-lis.

A thorn necklace draws blood at her throat, a dead hummingbird hangs from it, and a monkey and a black cat watch from behind.

Holbein arrived in England on a letter from Erasmus and painted More at the height of his power. Within a few years More was executed.

Copley painted the silversmith in his shirtsleeves at the bench with a teapot in his hand, which was not how gentlemen were usually shown.

Three nudes turned on a lathe, smooth and tubular, laid out among furniture built to match. The odalisque redone for the age of the factory.

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

For once Fragonard is not being naughty. A girl in yellow reads, and the ruff at her wrist is a few flicks of impasto.

The same woman, same cushions, same pose, now dressed. It is thought to have hung in front of the nude and slid aside.

A boy from the street in a crown of roses, painted the year Picasso's blue gloom warmed into rose.

A red cap, a parapet, and a gaze that meets yours. Antonello brought the Netherlandish portrait into Italy and killed off the profile.

Narcissus and his reflection close into a circle around a band of black water, and nothing else exists in the picture.

Mars sits naked and deflated in a plumed helmet with his armor on the floor, looking more like a tired old soldier.

It was half of a double portrait with George Sand listening at the piano, until somebody cut the canvas in two.

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

Not a commission but a tronie, a character study made to show off. Hals catches her half-laugh before it has finished.

Cranach was Luther's friend and godfather to his children, and his workshop turned out this face by the score for Protestant Germany.

She had been dead for years when this was painted, and the asp at her throat turns her into Cleopatra.

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

Marie-Thérèse asleep in a red armchair, her face split into curves. Picasso is said to have done it in a single afternoon.

She painted herself at the wheel in leather helmet and gloves for a German fashion magazine, and invented the look of the Jazz Age.

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

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