
Luncheon of the Boating Party
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.

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.

Circus people stand together in an empty landscape without looking at each other. The Rose Period at its largest and most wistful.

The scales in her hand are empty and perfectly level, and the painting on the wall behind her is a Last Judgment.

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.


A man and three boys heel a catboat over into open water, painted in the centennial year and read ever since as the country's optimism.

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

A canvas on an easel shows exactly the landscape it is standing in front of, and therefore hides it completely.

A dark-suited oarsman fills the foreground with his back while the water rises behind with no horizon, a design taken from Japanese prints.

Monet painted Westminster across the river again and again because what he actually wanted was the fog, not the building.

The room is a twelve-sided glass chamber and a torso hovers over the table. Dalí called this sort of thing nuclear mysticism.

Hicks was a Quaker preacher and sign-painter who returned to Isaiah's prophecy about sixty times. Penn signs his treaty in the background.

Light drops through the oculus onto the coffered dome while tourists stand about looking small. Painted for Grand Tourists to take home.

The Virgin offers the Child a bunch of grapes, which stand for the wine of his death, in an exactly observed Flemish wood.

She stands in a garden in a blue dress holding a watering can, and Renoir spends the rest of the canvas on light.

Death comes through the door while an angel points to the crucifix and a demon offers one more bag of gold. The man has not chosen.

Masts splintering, survivors in the surf, and the whole thing arranged for people who wanted to feel terror from a safe distance.

An enchantress sits in a wood ringed by deer, dogs, owls and a stork, which may be men she has transformed. Dossi leaves it unresolved.

Bierstadt painted this vast hunt as the herds were nearing extinction, with skulls and bones already lying across the foreground.

The deer have almost dissolved into the crystalline planes of the wood, which is exactly what Marc was after.

The brothers pause with the net still trailing fish through green water, caught between the work and the man on the shore.

Adam points at Eve, Eve points at the serpent, and the first sin turns into an ordinary comedy of passing the blame.

A woman slumped back on a sofa, and Degas reads the whole state of mind off the slope of her shoulders.