
The Garden of Earthly Delights
Three panels run from Eden to hell, with a whole naked humanity climbing into giant fruit in between. Nobody has settled what it means.

Three panels run from Eden to hell, with a whole naked humanity climbing into giant fruit in between. Nobody has settled what it means.

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

A screaming horse, a mother with her dead child, all in grey. Picasso painted it in weeks after German bombers leveled a Basque town.

The Infanta and her maids fill the room, but Velázquez has put himself at his easel and the king and queen in a mirror behind.

Venus stands in an orange grove while the Graces dance and spring arrives at her right. The meadow holds hundreds of identifiable plants.

Saints and pilgrims stream toward a bleeding Lamb across a dozen hinged panels. One of them was stolen in 1934 and has never been found.

Christ has just said one of them will betray him, and the shock rolls down the table. Leonardo's experimental paint began flaking in his lifetime.

Venus arrives on a scallop shell in a fall of roses, painted on canvas at a time when almost everyone still worked on panel.

God surges out of a red cloak full of angels, and Michelangelo leaves the fingers not quite touching. The gap does the work.

Nike lands on a warship's prow, wings still open, sea wind pressing the marble drapery flat against her striding body.

Eleven kilograms of gold inlaid with lapis and carnelian, lifted by Howard Carter from the innermost of three coffins in 1925.

Van Gogh painted the churning sky and its eleven stars from a window of the asylum at Saint-Rémy, partly from memory.

The marble block had been abandoned as flawed before Michelangelo took it, and he carved a boy who is watching Goliath, not beating him.

Thousands of life-size clay soldiers in battle formation, no two faces alike, guarding an emperor's tomb since 210 BC.

Duchamp submitted a porcelain urinal signed R. Mutt to an exhibition he was helping to judge, and the committee rejected it.

Plato and Aristotle argue at the center of a hall where Raphael gave the philosophers the faces of Leonardo, Michelangelo and Bramante.

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

Bernini staged the saint's own account of her vision as theater, lit from a window he hid above and watched by marble spectators in boxes.

The goddesses of the east pediment wear drapery so wet it clings. Elgin took the marbles to London in 1801 and Greece wants them back.

Three hunters come home over the hill with one thin catch while villagers skate below. Bruegel painted it for a series on the months.

One eye is inlaid and the other left blank, which suggests the bust was a master model kept in the sculptor's workshop at Amarna.

Liberty carries the tricolor over the barricade with a boy waving pistols beside her, painted within months of the revolution it shows.

A lantern lights a man in a white shirt throwing his arms wide before the firing squad. Goya painted it six years later.

Christ's body hangs green and pocked with sores, painted for a hospital whose patients saw their own ravaged flesh.

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.

Rodin first made this figure as Dante brooding over the Gates of Hell, then enlarged him and set him thinking alone on a rock.

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

The dead Christ lies across his mother's lap. Michelangelo was twenty-four, and signed the sash after hearing it credited to someone else.

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

More than eight hundred figures crowd five meters of scroll, and Chinese painters have been copying and forging it for nine hundred years.

Munch said an infinite scream was passing through nature, and put two figures on the bridge behind who walk on without noticing.

Five nude women stare out with their faces turned into masks, and Picasso kept the canvas rolled up in his studio for years.

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.

Seurat spent two years building this riverbank out of tiny dots of unmixed color, applying optical theory to a crowd standing oddly still.

A steam tug hauls a Trafalgar warship off to be broken up. Turner refused to sell the picture and left it to the nation.

A few pines loom and dissolve on two screens where the bare paper does the work of mist. Japan's finest ink painting, by most accounts.

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.

Manet worked from a real barmaid named Suzon and put her reflection in the wrong place, which people have been arguing about ever since.

The fainting Virgin curves in an exact echo of her dead son, the stroke that made van der Weyden the most copied painter in the north.

Bernini was in his mid-twenties when he cut this, catching Daphne at the moment bark closes over her thigh and leaves push from her fingers.

Light follows Christ's pointing hand across a dim counting-room to Matthew, who gestures at himself in disbelief. The picture made Caravaggio famous overnight.

David was Marat's friend and political ally, and he laid the murdered man out in his bath with the gravity of a religious lamentation.

Bulls and dragons stride across glazed brick in deep blue, raised for Nebuchadnezzar around 575 BC and rebuilt from the original bricks in Berlin.

Hundreds of tiny faces hide in the swirling rocks around Persia's first king, painted for a royal copy of the Shahnama made for Shah Tahmasp.

The earliest surviving painting built on a single vanishing point, worked out on a wall of Santa Maria Novella with Brunelleschi's help.

Survivors of a real shipwreck pile toward a speck of sail on the horizon. Géricault studied corpses and asylum patients before he began.

A naked boy in boots and a laurel hat rests one foot on Goliath's head, the first freestanding bronze nude since antiquity.

Three angels bend into a closed circle around a single cup. In 2024 the icon left the Tretyakov for a monastery, over conservators' objections.

Four people sit under fluorescent light behind a curved sheet of glass, and Hopper gave the diner no door in or out.

England ignored it, but the Paris Salon awarded it a gold medal in 1824 and sent Delacroix back to rework his own canvases.

Two lovers kneel wrapped in a single gold robe, rectangles patterning his side of it and circles hers, on a meadow of flowers.

Bacchus leaps from his chariot toward Ariadne while Theseus's ship slips off the horizon, painted for a duke's private chamber in Ferrara.

Manet took the pose from Titian's Venus of Urbino and gave it to a prostitute who looks straight back. The 1865 Salon was scandalized.

A naked woman picnics with two clothed men and looks calmly out at us. The Salon refused it, so it hung with the rejects.

A court lady steps between a lunging bear and the emperor. What survives is a later copy, crowded with the seals of everyone who owned it.

Bartholomew holds his own flayed skin, and the sagging face on it is Michelangelo's. The nudes offended enough critics that drapery was added later.

A stylized river runs down the gold between two plum trees, one young and white, the other old and red, leaning toward each other.

The monogram of Christ swells until it fills the page, and among the spirals hide cats, mice, an otter with a fish, and a moth.

Judith and her maid hold Holofernes down together and work the blade through his throat. Artemisia painted it a decade after her rape trial.

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.

Fourteen of Renoir's friends linger over the wreckage of lunch above the Seine, his future wife among them, cooing at a dog on the table.

The Spanish general stops the defeated Dutchman from kneeling and lays a hand on his shoulder. Spaniards still call the picture The Lances.

Thirty-two canvases, one for every variety Campbell's then sold, hung in a row like stock on a supermarket shelf.

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.

A man stands on a summit with his back to us, looking out over fog, so that we end up looking at what he sees.

When Duccio finished it in 1311 the whole of Siena walked it to the cathedral in procession, with the bells going the entire way.

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.

Two saints lower a nobleman into his grave while his soul slips through a tear in the sky. The mourners are El Greco's own neighbors.

Three brothers salute the swords their father holds up while the women of the house collapse at the right, four years before the Revolution.

Leonardo fixed Vitruvius's old problem by moving the centers, so that the navel governs the circle and the groin governs the square.

Three moments run in a single frame: the tax demanded, Peter pulling the coin from a fish, and Peter paying up at the right.

Cézanne used local farmhands as models and painted several versions, stripping the old tavern subject down until only two men and a bottle remain.

Two bored cherubs lean on the frame at the bottom, and they floated free of the altarpiece long ago onto everything else.

The son kneels with his shorn head against his father's chest and the old man's hands come down on his back. Rembrandt painted it near death.

Dalí said the soft watches came to him from a camembert melting in the sun, and he painted them with hallucinatory precision.

Titian woke Giorgione's sleeping Venus, brought her indoors, and had her look straight at us, probably to mark a wedding in Urbino.

The king kills lions released into an arena to prove he can protect his people, and the dying animals are carved with startling tenderness.

A farmer on Melos dug her up in 1820, already armless, and scholars still argue over whether she held an apple, a mirror, or her drapery.

Pliny ranked it above every other work of art, and when it came out of a Roman vineyard in 1506 Michelangelo hurried over to look.

Painters worked here by lamplight seventeen thousand years ago. Four boys found the cave in 1940, and it was sealed again in 1963.

A winged figure sits with her compass idle among abandoned tools, and no print in history has drawn more scholarly argument.

Pollock worked on the floor and moved around the canvas instead of standing at an easel, laying black enamel across raw cotton in 1950.

A soldier, a nursing woman, and lightning over the town beyond. Nobody has explained what connects them, and Giorgione died young leaving few certain works.

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

Ghiberti gave twenty-seven years to these doors, and the name comes from Michelangelo, who is supposed to have said they were fit for paradise.

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.

American customs taxed it as industrial metal until Brancusi v. United States in 1928 forced the law to recognize abstract sculpture as art.

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

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.

Goya painted this straight onto the wall of his own house in his last bitter years and never meant anyone else to see it.

Five figures wheel in a ring against blue and green, reduced to three colors and the strain of holding hands at speed.

A lion sniffs at a sleeper in the desert without waking her. Rousseau was a customs officer who never took a lesson.

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

Malevich hung it high in the corner where a Russian house keeps its icons, and called it the zero of form.

Not a calendar page but Anatomical Man, ringed by zodiac signs governing the body. All three brothers died in 1416, probably of plague.

Eve throws back her head and howls while Adam hides his face, the bodies heavy and casting real shadows. Michelangelo came to study it.

Gauguin thought he was dying and meant this to be his last work, reading right to left from a sleeping infant to an old woman.

Christ's body slides down one long diagonal onto a white shroud. It still stands on the altar in Antwerp Cathedral that Rubens painted it for.

Sunlight comes through the trees in patches over a Montmartre dance floor, a big ambitious canvas given over entirely to a Sunday afternoon.

Raphael left it unfinished when he died in 1520, and it was hung above his body while he lay in state.

Titian was barely thirty when Venice saw this go up over the Frari altar, the Virgin swept into a storm of red and blue.

The bodhisattva lowers his eyes with a blue lotus in his hand, painted into living rock at Ajanta and lost to the jungle for centuries.

The only canvas Caravaggio ever signed, and he signed it in the blood running from the saint's throat, for the knights of Malta.

Caravaggio's first attempt at the subject, turned down by the patron, before he threw out the angels and left one man, one horse and the light.

The Virgin lies barefoot and swollen like any corpse. The church that ordered it refused delivery, and Rubens told his duke to buy it.

El Greco moved the cathedral tower off its real site for the sake of the composition and lit the whole city with a green storm.

Bernini put the viewer where Goliath must be standing, so the sling is being wound up to throw straight past your head.

A girl rolls a hoop down an arcaded street toward a shadow coming around the corner, in light that belongs to no hour.

Two mourners sit with their backs turned to pull us in, and the angels overhead double over. Giotto frescoed it in the Arena Chapel at Padua.

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.

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.

Courbet gave an ordinary village funeral the scale reserved for kings and saints, and the critics were furious about it.

Nudes lounge and pipe and dance in a ring in a glade of colors nothing in nature has, a Fauve idyll from 1906.

Rousseau painted this in the last year of his life and explained that the woman on the sofa is dreaming herself into the jungle.

Three weathered shepherds crowd in to look at the newborn, and when the triptych reached Florence from Bruges the local painters took note.

Vermeer never sold this one. The model poses as Clio, muse of history, with a great map of the Netherlands filling the wall behind.

Couples linger on the shore of Venus's island at dusk, unwilling to board. Watteau gave it to the Academy, which invented a genre to fit it.

Three women bend for the stalks left after harvest while a full farm sits small in the distance, which unsettled the people buying paintings.

Zulaykha shuts the last door behind Yusuf, and Bihzad turns the palace into a honeycomb of tile and stairs as taut as the story.

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.

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.

Over ten meters long and tied from perhaps twenty-six million knots, woven for a shrine and inscribed with a longing line of Hafiz.

Christ is scourged in the middle distance while three men talk in the foreground, indifferent. Nobody has settled who they are or why.

The trees behind Christ turn from bare to leafing across the panel. In 1944 a British officer held his guns rather than shell the town.

A mountain, a wineshop flag and a boatman conjured from a few wet blots. Sesshu made it as a parting gift for a departing pupil.

A hundred and thirty guests feast while Christ works his first miracle almost unnoticed at the table. Napoleon's troops took it to Paris in 1797.

Cézanne painted his local mountain over and over, less to record it than to rebuild it out of flat patches of green, ochre and blue.

Cézanne worked on it for years and died before he finished, bending the trees inward so they rhyme with the bodies underneath.

Gabriel's greeting runs toward Mary in raised gold letters and she twists away from it, her thumb still caught in her book.

Cover one half of the face, then the other, and two expressions emerge, merciful and severe. Sinai was too remote for the iconoclasts to reach.

The two gods hurtle in from opposite edges and Sotatsu leaves the whole middle empty, so the bare gold reads as sky.

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

Some blooms burst with petals and others have gone to seed, all yellow on yellow, painted to decorate the house where Gauguin was to come.

Eleven centimeters of limestone from beside the Danube, once tinted red, with a woven cap covering the whole head and no face at all.

Everything is scraped off the bronze except forward motion. One cast briefly held the record for the most expensive sculpture ever sold.

Four meters of basalt buried after the conquest and dug up in Mexico City in 1790. Despite the nickname it is not a working calendar.

Life-size figures act out an initiation into the cult of Dionysus around three walls, buried by Vesuvius and dug out nearly intact.

Kandinsky made more than thirty studies for this and then painted the four-meter canvas in three days, apocalypse dissolved past recognition.

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.

Tens of thousands of tiny soldiers fight under a sky that curves like the whole earth. Painted while the Ottomans were pressing on Vienna.

Warhol silkscreened a publicity photo fifty times just after Monroe died, bright on one half and smudging away to nothing on the other.

Fra Angelico frescoed it at the top of the dormitory stairs, so the friars met it every time they climbed to their cells.

One disciple grips his chair to stand and the other throws his arms wide, while a fruit basket teeters off the edge toward us.

A collector loved the scroll so much he tried to have it burned with him at death. It was pulled from the fire in two pieces.

The kings arrive with a retinue of horses, hounds and a leopard, every surface tooled in gold for one of Florence's richest families.

Francis steps barefoot from his hermitage into a light coming from the left, and Bellini gives him no seraph and barely any wounds.

Ingres stretched her spine past anything anatomy allows, and critics joked she had three vertebrae too many. He was chasing line, not truth.

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.

Three flayed creatures crane and scream on orange grounds. Shown as the war ended in 1945, they made Bacon's reputation overnight.

Eight ragged dark blue poles lean across the poured web and give it a beat. Australia's purchase in 1973 caused a national row.

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

Leonardo painted this cave twice after falling out with the patrons. This is the earlier version, the one that stayed in France.

One ancient cypress sprawls across the screen against solid gold, painted by the man who decorated the castles of Nobunaga and Hideyoshi.

A critic at the 1913 Armory Show called it an explosion in a shingle factory, and the insult followed the painting around America.

The horns come from an old mistranslation of the Hebrew for rays of light. He was meant as one figure among many on a papal tomb.

Skeletons herd the living into a coffin-trap while a king clutches his gold and two lovers play music at the corner, not yet looking up.

No cross, no ground, no sky, just a spiral of mourners in acid pink and sea-green. Florentine Mannerism starts here.

The words under the pipe are correct, since a painting of a pipe is not a pipe, which is the whole and entire joke.

Seventy meters of wool telling the conquest of England like a strip cartoon. Not a tapestry at all, and probably stitched by English hands.