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

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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 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.

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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

Van Eyck spared the old canon nothing: the stubble, the swollen hands, the spectacles. His armored saint mirrors the whole room in miniature.

An ostrich egg hangs from the vault and pulls every sightline down. Federico is shown from the left because a tournament took his right eye.

Gabriel bows to Mary under the loggia while Adam and Eve are driven out of the garden at the left, the sin this undoes.

The saints share one continuous space instead of separate compartments, and the two kneeling physicians are the name-saints of the Medici who paid.

The wary, straight-on gaze is what a painter sees in a mirror, which is why this is probably van Eyck looking at himself.

Arthur pulls the sword from the stone and the finest knights come to his table, until his wife's love for Lancelot brings it down. Every Camelot since comes from Malory.

No angel, no dove, no lily. Mary looks up from her book straight at us, because we are standing where Gabriel ought to be.

Not the betrayal but the blessing of the bread, staged in a Flemish hall on one of the earliest correct vanishing points in the north.

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

The Virgin is far too big for the cathedral because she stands for the Church itself, and real sunlight falls in patches across the floor.

An early work, and Mary's right arm reaches further than an arm can. Gabriel's wings were studied from a real bird.

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.

Broken lances lie along the receding lines of a perspective grid. Vasari said Uccello sat up all night muttering about how sweet it was.

The central panel of three, with the Florentine commander charging in a gold-and-scarlet hat on a horse turned like a carousel figure.

An angel drops steeply from the corner and its light is the only light in the tent. One of the first true night scenes in painting.

Red-clad hunters and dogs funnel into a black wood toward a single vanishing point. One of the earliest night scenes on an Italian panel.

Mars sleeps the sleep of the spent lover while satyrs make off with his lance, one blowing a conch in his ear without waking him.

All seven sacraments happen at once inside one Gothic church, with the Crucifixion looming over the nave to show where they get their power.

The three kings are Medici, and the young man in the saffron cloak at the right, looking straight out at us, is Botticelli.

The Virgin is said to be the king's dead mistress, painted with a shaved forehead and one breast bared, ringed by red cherubim.

The princess has the dragon on a leash made from her own belt, and a spiral storm cloud winds up behind the saint.

Only the Bible has passed through more Christian hands. Thomas a Kempis asks for a life emptied of vanity and worldly reputation, turned inward, and remade in the imitation of Christ.

Mantegna carved the rock like an engraver while Judas already leads the soldiers down the road. His brother-in-law Bellini painted the same scene, softer.

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

Luke was the patron saint of painters, and van der Weyden ran the Brussels painters' guild, so this is a tribute to the trade.

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

A satyr kneels and touches the dead woman with extraordinary gentleness while her dog keeps watch and wading birds stand along the shore.

Sebastian takes his arrows with the composure of a statue, tied to a Roman column in a field of accurately ruined antiquity.

Christ crowns his mother at the top of a flight of steps that recede convincingly into depth, which is the new thing here.

In the middle panel the Child slips a ring onto Saint Catherine's finger, and on the right wing the Apocalypse breaks over Patmos.

The whole panel is a giant eye, with Christ in the pupil and the words Beware, beware, God sees. It was made for a tabletop.

The serpent stands upright against the tree with a near-human face, and every leaf in the garden is catalogued one by one.

Christine de Pizan, the first woman in Europe to live by her pen, answers centuries of learned misogyny by building an allegorical city whose every stone is the life of a woman.

She sits in profile against a hedge of carnations with butterflies going past, a sprig of juniper on her sleeve punning on her name.