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

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

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

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

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

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.

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

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

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.

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

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

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

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.

A marble head, a red rubber glove and a green ball hang together on a wall, and a train goes by in the distance.

A harlequin, a Pierrot and a monk in flat interlocking shapes that look cut from paper. Synthetic Cubism at its grandest and most deadpan.

One man lies flat on his back with his mouth open while the others cut wheat. Late summer, from the same series of months.

Mondrian broke his own grid into blinking squares after moving to New York, where he loved the traffic and the jazz.

De Kooning dragged the figure back into abstract painting at the moment that was least acceptable, and worked this canvas over for two years.

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.

Van Gogh loved the cypress and compared it to an Egyptian obelisk, then set one flaming up the right side of a Provençal field.

Socrates reaches for the hemlock without looking at it, still arguing with his other hand while his students fall apart around him.

Monet dug the pond himself at Giverny, built the Japanese bridge over it, and then painted the place for the rest of his life.

Johns chose things the mind already knows, so that nobody would look past the wax surface. Three flags stacked, each smaller than the last.

Monet and Renoir set up side by side at this riverside resort and worked out the quick broken stroke that became Impressionism.

Almost every detail is wrong, including the flag and the boat, and Leutze painted it in Germany seventy-five years after the fact.

One hand on the pitcher, one on the window latch, and morning light coming through onto a white cap. Nothing happens, perfectly.

A trapper and his son drift downriver at first light with a chained animal at the prow, the water so still it doubles them.

A green-faced peasant and a cow look at each other, and the houses behind them are upside down. Chagall grew up in Vitebsk.

O'Keeffe collected sun-bleached bones off the desert and hung this one in the sky over the hills, with a single white hollyhock beside it.

She would rather sink than call Brad. Lichtenstein took one panel of a romance comic and blew it up to the size of a serious painting.

Wilderness under storm on the left, farmland in sunshine on the right, and Cole himself down in the middle, tiny, looking up from his easel.

Circles, triangles and floating lines arranged with the precision of a score. Kandinsky painted it while teaching at the Bauhaus, his storms over.

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.

The officer's hat and back loom enormous in the foreground while the girl sits small and bright beyond, which is exactly how the eye works.

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.

Soft-edged bands of color stacked one above another, hovering slightly off the surface. Rothko wanted you to stand close and stay a while.