
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.

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

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

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

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

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

Montaigne wrote short pieces on friendship, fear, sleep, and his kidney stones, and invented the essay doing it. As company on the page he remains unmatched in four centuries.

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.

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.

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.

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

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.

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.

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

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

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

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.

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.

Machiavelli threw out the question of how a ruler ought to behave and asked how power is taken and kept. His answer, that a prince does better feared than loved, still unsettles people.

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.

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

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.

At a party in Verona two teenagers from feuding families meet, marry the next day, and are gone inside a week. Everything they say to each other still sounds newly invented.

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.

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

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

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 oba wore it at his hip, its crown made of tiny Portuguese heads. A British expedition looted it from Benin in 1897.

Twelve meters of wall where the whole business of execution goes on at once, one thief still being hauled upright at the side.

Three generations nest into one shifting pyramid, and Leonardo kept reworking it for years without ever calling it finished.

Two moments in one field: Adam and Eve reaching for the fruit, then driven out, suddenly old. The serpent has a woman's torso.

Every proportion is wrong on purpose, and a single outsized column rises behind for no reason. Parmigianino died before finishing it.