Heroic, beautiful, graceful, sensual: these are some of the words used to describe the works of Neoclassical sculptor Antonio Canova. Canova took inspiration from the Classical Art of Ancient Greece. In 1806, in a letter to writer and theorist Antoine-Chrysostome Quatremère de Quincy, Canova wrote, “To establish one’s value as a great artist take more than simply purloining bits of Antiquity from here and there, and then undiscerningly piecing them together. You have to sweat over the great model of the Greeks day and night.”

Who Was Antonio Canova?

Born in 1757, Antonio Canova was a sculptor from Possagno, Italy. Neoclassicism as an artistic style did not exist yet. Canova, along with German art historian Johann Joachim Winckelmann and French painter Jacques-Louis David would help create it. The dominant artistic movements during Antonio Canova’s youth were Baroque and Rococo.

Italy, as a unified country, did not exist at the time of Canova’s birth, either. It was made up of states, kingdoms, duchies, and foreign-ruled territories. Both Antonio Canova’s grandfather, Pasino, and his father, Pietro, were stonecutters. Apprenticed to Giuseppe “Il Torretti” Bernardi’s workshop as a teen, Antonio labored in Pagnano d’Asolo and Venice. While in Venice, he opened his own workshop. After a period of traveling throughout Italy, visiting modern cities and ancient Roman ruins in Pompeii and Herculaneum, Antonio opened a workshop in Rome.

Over the course of his career, Canova’s patrons would include some of the richest and most powerful men and women in Europe. Napoleon Bonaparte, Josephine de Beauharnais, Pope Clement XIII, Russian Prince Nikolai Yusupov, and Scotsman Colonel John Campbell all commissioned sculptures by Canova. After an illustrious career spanning five decades, Canova died in 1822. He is considered one of the greatest Italian sculptors and a symbol of Italian nationalism.

Inspiration for Canova’s work came from Ancient Greek sculpture and mythology. Let’s see which myths inspired the famous artist!

1. Orpheus and Eurydice

Orpheus was the son of the god Apollo and the goddess Calliope. Light, prophecy, and healing were the domains over which Apollo ruled. Apollo’s lover, Calliope, was the Muse of epic poetry. Their child, Orpheus, inherited his mother’s beautiful voice, charming wild beasts and bloodthirsty sirens with his music.

It’s often said that Orpheus fell in love with the forest nymph Eurydice at first sight. The enamored couple married, but their happiness was short-lived. While walking through tall grass, Eurydice was bitten by a venomous snake. Orpheus, the newlywed husband who had become a widower, was beside himself with grief. He could not accept the hand dealt by fate. Instead, he did something never before attempted: he traveled to the Underworld to bring Eurydice back.

Orpheus traveled through the gate of Taenarus, the entrance to the Underworld, guarded by the three-headed dog Cerberus, crossed the River Styx with ferryman Charon, and stood in the presence of Hades, Lord of the Underworld, and his wife Persephone to make one request: allow Eurydice to return to the upper world.

How did he manage all of this? Through the art of music. Orpheus sang and played his lyre for Cerberus, Charon, Hades, and Persephone. All who heard Orpheus’ music were amenable to his request.

As recounted in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Hades agreed to Orpheus’ request on one condition: on the way out of the Underworld, Orpheus was to travel in front of Eurydice, “he must not turn his eyes behind him, until he emerged from the vale of Avernus, or the gift would be null and void.”  Orpheus agreed. Along the way, Orpheus, “Afraid she was no longer there and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. In an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. Dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband… She spoke a last ‘farewell’ that, now, scarcely reached his ears, and turned again towards that same place.”

In two separate sculptures, Canova captures Orpheus’ anguish as a helpless Eurydice is dragged back to the Underworld. The sculptures were made in 1776 for Senator Giovanni Falier.

2. Theseus and the Centaur

Everyone was invited to the marriage of Pirithous and Hippodame, including the centaurs. After having too much to drink, centaur Eurytus acts on a bad idea. He attempts to carry off the bride for himself. Unsurprisingly, a fight breaks out between the humans and the centaurs. The hero Theseus, who is a friend of the groom, joins the fray. Theseus Defeating the Centaur depicts the hero clasping the centaur by the throat with his left hand. His raised right hand holds the club with which he will thrash the centaur.

The sculpture was completed by Antonio Canova in 1819. It was commissioned by the Napoleonic Italian Republic to honor Napoleon Bonaparte, though due to political upheavals it was not completed until 1819, when it was acquired by Emperor Francis I of Austria.

3. Theseus and the Minotaur

The son of King Minos’ wife and a bull, the Minotaur was a half-human and half-bull monster. King Minos, embarrassed by his wife’s affair, had the master craftsman Daedalus create an inescapable maze to trap the Minotaur in. Every nine years, Athenian men and women were chosen by lot to be eaten by the Minotaur. They died horrifying deaths within the Minotaur’s maze.

The brave Athenian Theseus had a plan. With the help of King Minos’ daughter Ariadne, he would end the Minotaur’s life. Ariadne provided Theseus with a ball of thread and an idea. Unwinding the thread as he traveled through the maze, Theseus would use it to find his way out again. The idea worked. Theseus slew the Minotaur and escaped with his life.

The tale of Theseus and the Minotaur is told in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Book VIII.

Antonio Canova’s sculpture depicts a calm and triumphant Theseus sitting astride the body of the slain monster. The sculpture was completed in 1783 for Venetian Ambassador Girolamo Zulian.

4. Daedalus and Icarus

The Ancient Greek myth of Daedalus and Icarus is preserved in written form for posterity in Book VIII of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, and it is preserved in stone by Antonio Canova. According to Ovid, Daedalus was a master architect and craftsman. King Minos of Crete ordered Daedalus to create an inescapable maze to trap the monstrous Minotaur within. After completing the task, King Minos exiled Daedalus and his son Icarus on the island of Crete.

The homesick Daedalus was determined to escape. So, he created a pair of wings, one for him and one for his son. Modeled after those of birds, they were made with feathers and beeswax. According to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, Daedalus instructed his son, “Let me warn you, Icarus, to take the middle way, in case the moisture weighs down your wings, if you fly too low, or if you go too high, the sun scorches them. Travel between extremes.”

Daedalus flew ahead of his son, continuing to issue instructions along the way. “… when the boy began to delight in his daring flight, and abandoning his guide, drawn by desire for the heavens, soared higher.” Just as his father forewarned, the wax melted. According to the text, “…[Daedalus] caught sight of the feathers on the waves, and cursed his inventions.”

The sculpture of Daedalus and Icarus was completed by Antonio Canova in 1779. It was commissioned by Venetian Procurator Pietro Vettor Pisani.

5. Paris

The Judgment of Paris is recounted in Ovid’s Heroides. Paris, the son of Trojan Prince Priam, is informed by Hermes, messenger of the gods, that Zeus has a demand of him. Paris must judge a beauty contest between the goddesses Hera, Athena, and Aphrodite. Each goddess attempts to win Paris’ favor through bribery. Hera offered Paris kingdoms. Athena offered him valor, power, and bravery. Aphrodite promises Helen of Troy, the most beautiful woman in the world, to Paris. But that Helen happens to be married to another man, King Menelaus of Sparta, which doesn’t concern Aphrodite at all. Ultimately, Paris chooses Aphrodite, goddess of love, as the most beautiful.

In Canova’s sculpture, Paris holds an apple in his right hand. This is the goddess Eris’ Apple of Discord. Feeling slighted because she did not receive an invitation to the wedding of Peleus and Thetis, Eris tossed an apple inscribed with the words “To the fairest” into the crowd. Hera, Athena, and Venus fought over the apple. To settle the dispute, Zeus called upon Paris to judge who was the most beautiful goddess. Canova’s sculpture was completed for Josephine de Beauharnais in 1812.

6. Venus Victrix

Venus Victrix, or “Venus Victorious,” is an epithet of the goddess of love. In Antonio Canova’s sculpture, a reclining nude-from-the-waist-up Venus holds an apple. The apple alludes to the Greek myths of the Apple of Discord and the Judgment of Paris. Napoleon Bonaparte’s sister, Pauline Bonaparte, posed as Venus. Venus Victrix was completed in 1808 for Camillo Borghese, Pauline Bonaparte’s husband.

7. Apollo Crowning Himself

Antonio Canova’s sculpture Apollo Crowning Himself could allude to a myth found in Book I of Ovid’s Metamorphoses. Phoebus Apollo insults Cupid. Cupid retaliates by striking him with a gold-pointed arrow. Apollo will fall in love with the first person he sees. Cupid shoots Daphne with a lead-pointed arrow, which causes her to be repulsed by the idea of love. The first person Apollo sees after being struck is Daphne.

Apollo pursues Daphne. Daphne runs away. Just before Apollo catches her, Daphne cries out for help. Her prayer was answered. The beautiful young woman is transformed into a laurel tree. Apollo declares in the Metamorphoses, “Since you cannot be my bride, you must be my tree! Laurel, with you my hair will be wreathed, with you my lyre, with you my quiver.”

Canova’s sculpture depicts Apollo crowning himself with a laurel garland. The sculpture was commissioned by Prince Don Abbondio Rezzonico. It was completed between the years 1781 and 1782.

8. Adonis and Venus

One of Orpheus’ songs tells the love story of Venus and Adonis. Ovid wrote in the Metamorphoses that Venus was with her son and, “… while the boy, Cupid, with quiver on shoulder, was kissing his mother, he innocently scratched her breasts with a loose arrow.” When someone is struck by Cupid’s arrow, s/he falls in love with the next person s/he sees. Venus saw the most beautiful man in the world, Adonis.

Canova’s sculpture depicts Venus and Adonis in love. It was completed in 1794 for Marquis Francesco Berio.

9. Hercules and Lichas

In Book IX of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, we learn the tale of Hercules and Lichas. Hercules, with his new bride Deianira, seeks to cross the River Euenus. He enlists the help of Nessus, having the fierce centaur carry Deianira on his back. Nessus betrays Hercules by attempting to kidnap Deianira. In retaliation, Hercules shoots the centaur with an arrow dipped in the poison of the Lernean Hydra. The dying centaur’s final thoughts were set on revenge. Removing his blood-soaked tunic, he gives it to Deianira. He lies to Deianira, telling her that the tunic is a love charm with the power to revive affections.

Years pass. Deianira hears a rumor that Hercules has fallen in love with another woman, Iole. Deianira weighs her options. She could cut the woman’s throat. Or she could give Hercules Nessus’ tunic, charming him into falling in love with her. She chose the latter option, commanding her servant Lichas to deliver the tunic to Hercules, but Deianira does not realize that the tunic has been poisoned by the Hydra’s venom.

Immediately after putting on the tunic, Hercules’ flesh begins to burn. He cannot remove the tunic without removing pieces of his own skin. Driven mad by the pain, Hercules blames Lichas for his suffering. The demigod takes hold of the mortal “… and, swinging him round three or four times, hurled him, more violently than a catapult bolt, into the Euboean waters,” Ovid shares in the Metamorphoses.

Antonio Canova’s sculpture depicts the muscular Hercules as he swings the helpless Lichas through the air. It was commissioned by Aragon Prince Onorato Gaetani and completed in 1815.

10. Psyche Revived by Cupid’s Kiss

Psyche Revived By Cupid’s Kiss is Antonio Canova’s embellishment on the myths of Cupid and Psyche found in Lucius Apuleius’ The Golden Ass.

Cupid fell in love with Psyche, a mortal woman whose beauty rivaled that of the goddess of love, Venus. Knowing that his mother would not approve of the relationship, Cupid is determined to keep it hidden. In secret, he becomes Psyche’s husband. He also has a peculiar rule for his wife. Psyche must never see her husband’s face. She agrees to the rule, but over time, influenced by her wicked sisters, Psyche breaks it.

Her actions tear the couple apart. Venus is determined to punish Psyche. She places a bounty on Psyche for her capture. Psyche, desperate to reunite with her husband, willingly travels to her mother-in-law’s home despite her fears. Venus cruelly beats the pregnant woman. Then she challenges Psyche to complete four impossible tasks. Thankfully, natural and supernatural creatures take pity on Psyche and help her complete them.

During the course of completing the fourth task, Psyche’s curiosity gets the better of her. The task is to retrieve a day’s worth of beauty from Proserpine, goddess of the Underworld, for Venus to use. Psyche leaves the Underworld with the jar. Believing Venus won’t notice if a drop is missing, Psyche unseals the jar. Rather than beauty, the jar contains Stygian sleep. Psyche “…collapsed  where she stood… and deep slumber overcame her. She lay there motionless, like a corpse but fast asleep,” wrote Apuleius in The Golden Ass. Cupid came to her rescue. He revived Psyche “…wiped away the sleep with care and returned it to the jar where it belonged.” According to Apuleius, “Then he roused her with a harmless touch of his arrow.” In Canova’s version of the story, Cupid revives Psyche with a kiss.

The sculpture was commissioned by Colonel John Campbell and completed by Canova in 1793.

11. Perseus With the Head of Medusa

According to Ovid, Medusa was once a beautiful and sought-after woman. Drawn to her beauty, the god Poseidon raped her in the temple of Athena, violating the sacred space as well. Medusa’s sad tale takes another sad turn when Athena punishes Medusa by transforming her into an ugly woman with hair full of snakes. Now, a glance from Medusa will turn any living creature into stone.

The hero Perseus traveled far to kill Medusa. On the journey, he finds the stone bodies of those who crossed the Gorgon’s path. To avoid the same fate, Perseus, “…looked at the dread form of Medusa reflected in a circular shield of polished bronze that he carried on his left arm. And while a deep sleep held the snakes and herself, he struck her head from her neck.” This gory scene is described in Book IV of the Metamorphoses.

The sculpture was commissioned by Onorato Duveyriez, a French prosecutor. However, it was purchased by Pope Pius VII. Perseus with the Head of Medusa was completed between the years 1800 and 1801.

12. Sleeping Endymion

In Apollodorus’ Bibliotecha, Endymion is described: “As he was of surpassing beauty, the Moon fell in love with him, and Zeus allowed him to choose what he would, and he chose to sleep for ever, remaining deathless and ageless.” In Canova’s sculpture, a beautiful and serene young man lies asleep. Resting at his feet is an attentive dog. The sculpture was commissioned by William Cavendish, the 6th Duke of Devonshire, and completed in 1822.

Chinoiserie refers to the use of Chinese motifs such as pagodas, dragons, and an abundance of flora and fauna in European artistic styles. It was based on how Europeans imagined China—a faraway civilization few knew much about. The exotic nature of Chinoiserie heightened its appeal in the 17th and 18th centuries. At the peak of its popularity, even European royals decorated their palaces in such ornate style. From the Trianon de Porcelaine in France to the Palazzina Cinese in Italy, here are six examples of Chinoiserie architecture in Europe.

1. Europe’s First Chinoiserie Building: Trianon de Porcelaine (Versailles, France)

In 1670, Louis XIV of France ordered the construction of what was to become Europe’s first Chinoiserie building, the Trianon de Porcelaine. Located near the Palace of Versailles, the Trianon de Porcelaine was a banqueting house and a rendezvous for Louis XIV and his mistress Madame de Montespan. The main central pavilion was reserved for the king, while the remaining four were used by guests and for other service functions. The structure was surrounded by vast gardens of perfumed flowers for the viewing pleasure of Louis XIV and his distinguished guests. The lush display of flowers also earned the Trianon de Porcelaine the name “Pavilion de Flore.”

Entrusted with the design of the building, renowned French Baroque architect Louis Le Vau chose the Chinoiserie style that was in vogue. His design paid homage to the Porcelain Tower of Nanjing in China, which was the source of inspiration for many Chinoiserie buildings in Europe. Early European travelogues and publications often contained illustrations and descriptions of the Porcelain Tower of Nanjing, which were widely referenced by designers and architects across generations. An example of such publications is the 1665 An Embassy from the East-India Company of the United Provinces… by Dutch explorer Johan Nieuhof.

True to its Chinoiserie style, the Trianon de Porcelaine was decked out in lavish blue-and-white ceramic tiles. Interestingly, the tiles were not actually porcelain because, at that time, Europe had yet to master the revered Chinese technology. As such, European builders had to rely on faience tiles with blue glaze produced by French and Dutch potters. These decorative tiles would not survive years of wear and tear, and by 1687, it was clear that much of the building was in poor condition. With the end of his affair with Madame de Montespan, the king ordered the demolition of the building.

2. Chinesisches Haus (Potsdam, Germany)

Located in the Sanssouci Park, the Chinesisches Haus (“Chinese House”) in Potsdam, Germany, was built between 1755 and 1764. Commissioned by Prussian king Frederick the Great, the project was headed by German master builder Johann Gottfried Büring. The Chinese House is characterized by its trefoil shape, which was inspired by the Maison du Trèfle at the Palace of Lunéville in Lorraine. Its exteriors feature four prominent gilded sandstone columns alongside several playful, life-sized gilded sculptures of Chinese musicians and tea drinkers. These were the works of German sculptors Johann Melchior Kambly, Johann Gottlieb Heymüller, and Johann Peter Benckert.

The Chinoiserie style continues in the building’s interiors with a vast collection of 18th-century porcelain and a large fresco depicting a whimsical gathering. It features numerous Chinese men standing behind a balustrade, some glancing around and others engaged in conversation. In the surroundings, there are peacocks, parrots, monkeys, statues of Buddha, and many other Chinoiserie motifs. Frederick the Great, as a fervent admirer of Chinoiserie, would later follow up with two additional Chinese-style structures. One was the Chinese Kitchen, located just a stone’s throw from the Chinese House, and the other was the Drachenhaus (“Dragon House”), located at the northern part of the Sanssouci Park.

3. Drachenhaus (Potsdam, Germany)

A few years after the completion of the Chinese House, Frederick the Great commissioned German architect Carl von Gontard to design a pagoda-inspired building. The Prussian king was said to have been enamored by the design of the Great Pagoda at Kew Gardens in London and sought to replicate it in Potsdam. With his vision and Gontard’s expertise, the Drachenhaus (“Dragon House”) was erected in Klausberg, just next to Sanssouci Park, in 1772. A four-story building, it was constructed on an octagonal plan, with sixteen stunning dragons lining the edges of its concave roof.

From its original design, only the first floor was functional, with a hallway, two rooms, and a kitchen that were meant for the royal winemakers. However, they did not move into the building eventually, and it was left unoccupied and unmaintained for the next decade or so. A timely restoration in 1787 saved the structure from further decay and allowed it to regain its luster, as well as its function as a residence. Over the years, the building was expanded on multiple occasions to include larger kitchen facilities. Since then, the building has been occupied by several food establishments, and today stands as a popular restaurant and café serving German cuisine.

4. Great Pagoda (London, England)

Often hailed as one of the finest examples of a Chinoiserie building in Europe, the Great Pagoda in Kew Gardens, London, was completed in 1762. Princess Augusta, the Dowager Princess of Wales, founded the Gardens and wanted to landscape the Gardens according to the fashionable design trends at the time. She commissioned the great Swedish-Scottish architect Sir William Chambers, who built the Great Pagoda as a gift for her. Chambers, deeply inspired by his visits to China, modeled the Great Pagoda after the Porcelain Tower of Nanjing in China. Made of grey bricks, the 10-story tall pagoda measures about 163 feet in height and comprises some 253 steps to the viewing gallery.

Used as a munitions test site, the Great Pagoda played a crucial role during World War II. As an enclosed high tower, it was an ideal location for smoke bombs to be dropped, with holes opened up through each floor. In 2018, the Great Pagoda underwent an extensive restoration, hailing the return of the 80 glided wood dragons that had initially adorned the roofs. Rumor has it that they had been removed and sold in 1784 to repay the mounting gambling debt of King George IV. However, there was little evidence proving this, and most experts believe that the wooden material had naturally decayed.

5. Palazzina Cinese (Palermo, Italy)

Nestled within the La Favorita park in Palermo, Italy, the Palazzina Cinese (“Chinese Palace”) is a former royal residence of the House of Bourbon-Two Sicilies. Completed in 1806, the building with eclectic Chinoiserie and Sicilian influences was designed by Italian architect Giuseppe Venanzio Marvuglia. Interestingly, Marvuglia was also the designer of the original, smaller building that was owned by Baron Benedetto Lombardo. When he was in exile in Palermo, King Ferdinand III of Sicily chanced upon and was impressed with the charming architecture. He swiftly bought the property and the land around it and commissioned Marvuglia to give it a royal facelift. The building later became the property of the House of Savoy in 1861 with the Unification of Italy. Today, it is home to the Ethnographic Museum of Sicily.

The palace’s exteriors feature a quintessential pagoda on the top, along with intricately carved wooden beams and whimsical spiral staircases. Inside, the ground floor houses the entry hall, an office, a dining room, and, most importantly, the king’s bedroom. The second floor, noticeably humbler in its design, was reserved as servants’ quarters. The third floor opens to the reception hall and the private chambers of Queen Maria Carolina of Austria, complete with an unobstructed view of the beautiful gardens in the surroundings. Adorning the ceilings of the royal apartments is a breathtaking series of Chinese-themed frescoes by Italian painters Giuseppe Velasco and Vincenzo Riolo.

6. The Ultimate Chinoiserie Fantasy: Chinese Village (Tsarskoye Selo, Russia)  

Located in the Alexander Park of Tsarskoye Selo, Russia, the Chinese Village is quite possibly one of the most extravagant manifestations of the Chinoiserie craze. Keen to ride the wave of building Chinese-style palaces like her European counterparts, Catherine the Great ordered the construction of 18 Chinese royal houses in the 1780s. It was said that the empress had originally intended to hire a Chinese builder but to no avail. Instead, Italian architect Antonio Rinaldi and Scottish architect Charles Cameron were eventually engaged to see to the grand project. Among the 18 planned structures, however, only ten were completed as building plans were halted due to depleting funds and the death of Catherine the Great.

There are three stunning Chinese-style bridges that lead to the Chinese Village. The Cross-Shaped Bridge was built in 1779, while the other two—the Dragon Bridge and the Large Chinese Bridge—were built in 1785. Near the Chinese Village, there once stood a Chinese Opera Theatre, which was constructed in 1779 by Rinaldi. It was a celebrated venue where Russian royals previewed up-and-coming operas. Leo Tolstoy’s famed play The Fruits of Enlightenment also premiered here in 1893. Sadly, the theater was razed to the ground in 1941 as a victim of Nazi bombardment during World War II.

Winslow Homer is sometimes called America’s favorite artist. He is often regarded as the most important American painter of the 19th century. Because of the nostalgic yet realistic portrayal of 19th-century American values and lifestyles, Homer’s paintings have been repeatedly featured in books, postcards, stamps, and calendars. Homer’s works explored American post-Civil War identity and themes such as childhood and the future of the new generation, contrasting idyllic rural life with the rise of urbanization as cities expanded rapidly during the post-Civil War period.

Winslow Homer’s Paintings: Reporting the Civil War

Winslow Homer was born in Boston in 1836. He began his artistic career as an illustrator for magazines and newspapers, which might explain his knack for capturing a scene’s most characteristic and significant details. Although early photographers were already documenting current events, the processes were too technologically complex to use these images in newspapers and periodicals. Newspapers and other printed media relied on illustrations to depict current events and problems in the lives of average Americans.

After the start of the Civil War, Winslow Homer reported on the events of the war as a journalist and newspaper illustrator. He witnessed war firsthand, painting battles for Harper’s Weekly, one of the country’s main periodicals. During this time, the artist’s subject matter ranged from fierce battles to mundane camp life scenes, often focusing on moments of uneasy peace even amid conflict.

One of his most famous Civil War paintings is Prisoners from the Front, painted in 1866. The painting was inspired by a real incident during the war, when Homer’s friend, Francis Channing Barlow, a general in the Union Army, captured several Confederate soldiers. Homer portrays both sides with dignity. Although imprisoned, the Confederate prisoners look confident and even slightly defiant. He also subtly captures the class differences between the three prisoners. One of them is wearing an officer’s uniform, while the two other men are dressed in tattered and incomplete soldier uniforms.

Unlike many other iconic American history paintings that focus on the leaders and famous figures, like Emanuel Leutze’s iconic Washington Crossing the Delaware, Homer’s paintings concentrate on the daily life of the soldiers, the common people living through the events of the war. Winslow Homer’s art doesn’t glorify the leaders, but rather documents the trials and struggles of the wartime experience. This humane and objective view of the war, along with Homer’s sympathetic representation of both sides, makes Homer’s paintings important witnesses of the inner conflict that divided the country in the middle of the 19th century.

Hard-Won Freedom: Winslow Homer’s Images of Post-War Life

The Reconstruction era, as the post-war period came to be known, brought change in both the North and the South as the country sought to rebuild. This period was characterized by increased industrialization and urbanization.

During his visit to the South in the 1870s, Winslow Homer saw firsthand how little change the Reconstruction was bringing into the lives of the freed slaves. They were still seen as inferior by the white population, and many still did the same work as before.

One important positive effect of the Reconstruction was that Black children finally gained access to school education. While not explicitly stated in the U.S. Constitution, this right was codified in the new Southern state constitutions drafted by biracial coalitions, establishing the region’s first systems of universal public schooling.

In Taking Sunflower to Teacher, Homer shows a small Black boy preparing for the first day of school. Wearing patched and torn clothing, the little boy holds a large, cheerful sunflower as a gift for the teacher. Homer signed his initials on the child’s slate board in the right-hand corner of the painting. The butterfly sitting on the boy’s shoulder could hint at the transformation awaiting the young student.

While images like that may seem sentimental today, in Winslow Homer’s time, they were revolutionary because of his empathy for his subjects, realistic approach, and immediacy. Homer’s decision to portray his African-American subjects as individuals showed a huge contrast to the standard pre-war depictions of Black people as caricatures or types. Rather than stereotyping or marginalizing them, Homer depicted Black people as the main figures in numerous paintings.

In A Visit from the Old Mistress, Homer expressively points out the changing dynamics in American society during the Reconstruction. The painting shows an intense moment as a family of former slaves receives a visit from their old mistress. The painter doesn’t resort to clichés and doesn’t water down the uncomfortable tension between the former slaves still struggling to survive, in spite of their newfound freedom. The still wealthy mistress is being given a rather cool reception. Homer allows the postures and facial expressions to tell their own story.

Leisure and Peace: Children and Women in Homer’s Art

Despite living in New York in the 1870s, most of Winslow Homer’s art doesn’t focus on progress and industrialization. Instead, he portrays rural New England. Homer’s paintings of this period focus on farm life, games, leisure, and a happy country childhood. The lighter color palette and frequent use of outdoor settings and everyday subjects mirror the influence of the Impressionists, whose works Homer might have encountered during his travels, yet his interpretation is entirely grounded in his American surroundings. Winslow Homer often created watercolor studies that he later used as the basis for larger oil paintings. Although Homer never married or had children of his own, children were a major theme in his art. Homer seems to have enjoyed painting them, and their joyfulness made paintings of children a particularly optimistic and sought-after subject after the war’s deprivations.

In The Country School, Homer shows a one-room schoolhouse, which was the standard mode of primary education before the Civil War. The luring, sunny landscape behind the window creates a sense of kinship with the children, who obviously find it hard to focus on their school tasks. The same longing for the innocence and happiness of childhood appears in another of Winslow Homer’s famous paintings. In 1872, Winslow Homer painted Snap the Whip, showing a moment of play during recess. The schoolboys’ bare feet, the wildflowers in the foreground, and the idyllic landscape mix to convey a sense of exuberance and joy.

The theme of childhood allowed Homer to explore his own memories and the nostalgia that must have been prevalent in the rapidly changing post-war society. With the country’s rapid urbanization, many traditional ways of life that were seen as thoroughly American were gradually disappearing. The same nostalgic themes are mirrored in the literature of the time: Mark Twain published The Adventures of Tom Sawyer in 1876, while Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women was published in 1868-1869.

Winslow Homer also captured the gradual transformation of women’s roles in postwar society. The young teacher in The Country School reflects another indirect effect of the Civil War: after so many young men died in the war, many women were compelled to seek work to support themselves rather than focus on raising their families. Teaching was one of the first professions open for women in America, leading gradually to better female education and contributing to the beginning of the women’s suffrage movement.

Homer’s Inside the Bar is another of his paintings that celebrates women’s resilience and hard work. A fisherwoman strides confidently by the shore, carrying a basket. Behind her, a storm is brewing, with men in boats returning from the sea. She’s shown as a figure of strength, stability, and support, standing tall in spite of the wind and waves.

Winslow Homer’s Paintings: Confronting the Forces of Nature

In his later years, Winslow Homer moved to Prouts Neck, Maine, where he created numerous paintings inspired by the seafaring life of the Northeastern Coast. His paintings of this period feature boats, harbors, ports, and beaches, exploring the way fishermen faced the forces of nature daily and uncomplainingly while trying to make a living from the sea.

Homer was no stranger to sea travel, sailing to England and traveling for several summers to the Bahamas, voyages that involved weeks aboard ships. The ever-present danger of life near the ocean seems to have fascinated the artist, and the struggle of humans against nature became a prominent theme in Winslow Homer’s art.

The sense of awe before nature’s immense power is known as the sublime in art, a concept that first appeared in art during the Romantic Movement. Homer portrays both the awe before the might of nature and the bravery of the people facing its dangers. Paintings like The Fog Warning or The Life Line show very real threats that people at sea faced in their daily routine. This clash with the forces of nature is expressed in a dramatic way in one of Winslow Homer’s most epic paintings, The Gulf Stream. This large-scale, enigmatic painting is the crowning masterpiece in Homer’s series of paintings showing humans courageously fighting against the odds.

Winslow Homer crossed the Gulf Stream several times during his trips to the Bahamas, and the ocean he painted is harsh in its realism. The narrative of The Gulf Stream remains unresolved. We don’t really know who the Black man is, and how he came to be alone on a small boat in the middle of the ocean. He may have escaped slavery, or he may be the last surviving member of a small crew. The boat’s name can be deciphered as Anna of Key West, Florida.

Numerous details in the painting call for further interpretation. The scattered sugar cane stalks on the deck may allude to slavery. The Gulf Stream itself has been historically instrumental in facilitating the slave trade and the trade with the products of slaves’ labor, like sugar, tobacco, and cotton.

There are sharks circling the boat in the center of the canvas, the boat’s mast and rudder are gone, and, as if the man’s plight isn’t bad enough already, there’s a waterspout forming in the background. Although these details foreshadow a bleak end for the person on the boat, Homer doesn’t make the ending definite; there’s a sailing ship on the horizon, suggesting that rescue may be on its way.

Winslow Homer’s art encompasses many vital themes and developments of 19th-century America, from the Civil War to the changing role of women and the Black population’s first steps towards emancipation and equality. But it could be that one of the main reasons Winslow Homer remains popular today is that his quiet, honest paintings capture the courage, individuality, and contentment of his era’s lifestyle, which resonate with contemporary nostalgia for an idea of a simpler, less complicated way of life.

Francesco Borromini (1599-1667) is often remembered for his professional relationship with Gian Lorenzo Bernini (1598-1680), which grew more as they worked together on projects across Rome, such as New St. Peter’s Basilica and the Barberini Palace. Their long-lasting conflict, laden with contrasting artistic philosophies, has been elaborated into a saga enriched by local anecdotes, such as claiming that Bernini’s personification of the Río de la Plata on the Four River Fountain is protecting itself from the imminent collapse of the adjacent church of St. Agnes designed by Borromini.

Francesco Borromini’s Rome

This rivalry, however, has also cast a shadow over Borromini’s contribution to the re-designing of the city and his innovative approach to architectural design, which is often imbued with symbolic significance. Let’s explore Borromini’s life, some of his most remarkable designs, and his mastery of geometry as a tool to capture the essence of abstract concepts such as divine creation, wisdom, and harmony, translated into inventive architectural microcosms.

Born Francesco Castelli on September 25, 1599, in Bissone, a small village on Lake Lugano in modern-day Switzerland, Borromini came from a family of stonemasons, which laid the foundation for his career in architecture. After basic training in stonework, he moved to Milan, where he honed his craft and developed a strong foundation in architectural principles.

In 1619, he relocated to Rome to work under the guidance of Carlo Maderno, a relative of his and the chief architect of New St. Peter’s Basilica. Following Maderno’s death in 1629, Borromini briefly continued to work at the Fabric of St Peter’s alongside Gian Lorenzo Bernini until tensions between the two led him to abandon the project. Borromini set out to seek independent commissions where he could freely create architectural spaces based on his strong knowledge of traditions but simultaneously on his visionary approach to transforming those very rules in bold and unconventional ways.

While his contemporaries often employed grandiose ornamentation and lavish materials, Borromini’s designs focused on dynamic geometrical forms, fluid lines, and a profound interplay of light and shadow. One of Borromini’s signature techniques was the use of elliptical and curvilinear geometries for his floor plans, which created a sense of movement and energy in his structures. He also paid meticulous attention to the relationships between spaces, designing interiors that felt at once harmonious and dynamic.

San Carlo Alle Quattro Fontane (1638-1641)

San Carlo alle Quattro Fontane, also known as San Carlino, marked Borromini’s first independent commission following his departure from St. Peter’s Basilica. Entrusted to him by the Trinitarian Order, this project proved serendipitous: Borromini was eager to demonstrate his creative prowess to potential commissioners, while the Trinitarians, new to the city themselves, needed a church to receive papal approval for their religious order but lacked the financial means for an elaborate structure. The modest budget did not prevent Borromini from utilizing his ingenuity to the fullest, resulting in a space that achieved monumental impact and structural complexity within the constraints of both limited funding and a cramped site.

The church’s design, indeed, is a testament to Borromini’s mastery of complex geometry. Alternating concave and convex forms, the undulating façade already suggests the rhythmic dynamism and intricacy that will be found inside, while the pure and light simplicity of the stucco interior décor is left as a pleasing surprise. The floor plan begins as an intricate interplay of interlocking ovals, triangles, and circles, creating a dynamic and seemingly disorientating foundation.

However, as one ascends toward the dome, the geometry gradually resolves into clearer, harmonious forms, symbolizing the soul’s journey toward the heavens. The elliptical dome, with its interlocking coffering and luminous apex, creates an ethereal sense of transcendence, drawing the viewer’s gaze heavenward and reinforcing the spiritual symbolism embedded in the architecture.

Sant’Ivo Alla Sapienza (1642-1660)

Sant’Ivo alla Sapienza, located within the courtyard of La Sapienza, Rome’s oldest university, is another iconic work by Borromini. Commissioned by Urban VIII as the university’s chapel, it symbolizes the divine origin of knowledge and the pursuit of wisdom. As for San Carlino, Borromini’s design of Sant’Ivo succeeds in translating this abstract theme into geometrical forms and celestial symbolism.

The plan of Sant’Ivo is based on a complex yet harmonious configuration of triangles and circles, which interweave to form a star-shaped layout. This geometric intricacy serves as a metaphor for the pursuit of knowledge, an endeavor that begins with a fragmented understanding of reality but gradually resolves into clarity and enlightenment, as guided by divine inspiration. The interior’s interplay of light and shadow further enhances the sense of progressive divine enlightenment, with sunlight filtering through carefully positioned windows to highlight the chapel’s harmonious proportions.

The transition from the intricate floor plan to the luminous dome allows us to visualize and experience this intellectual and spiritual journey. The dome itself, crowned by a corkscrew-shaped lantern that spirals upward towards Heaven, symbolizes the ascent of the human mind towards divine wisdom. The lantern is, therefore, both a visual focal point where the whole structure culminates and a profound representation of enlightenment. It stands as a testament to Borromini’s belief that architecture could transcend its physical function to embody the higher aspirations of the human mind and soul.

Oratory of Saint Philip Neri (1637-1650)

Adjacent to the Chiesa Nuova in Rome, the Oratory of Saint Philip Neri is yet another powerful expression of Borromini’s ability to translate spiritual ideas into architectural form. Commissioned as a space for prayer and community gatherings, the Oratory embodies the values of the Congregation for which it was built—simplicity, humility, and devotion—while elevating them through an innovative design.

The façade achieves striking elegance through its gentle curving and rhythmic interplay of concave and convex forms and ornaments, some drawn from previous architectural traditions, whilst others invented anew. For instance, the curved gable, framed by pilasters and adorned with subtle ornamental details, invites contemplation and symbolizes the uplifting nature of prayer. The overall undulating design reflects Borromini’s belief in the power of architecture to inspire harmony and unity.

Inside, the Oratory’s spatial arrangement fosters an intimate and serene atmosphere. Borromini’s careful orchestration of proportions creates a sense of balance and cohesion, ensuring that every element contributes to the whole. At its core, the Oratory appears as a celebration of spiritual harmony. Borromini’s design once again transcends mere functionality, transforming the building into a space where architectural form and spiritual purpose converge.

Palazzo Spada (1643-1647)

One of Borromini’s most ingenious creations can be found in Palazzo Spada, where a forced-perspective gallery was added to the courtyard, proving the architect’s mastery of geometrical rules. At first glance, the colonnade seems to extend far into the distance, but this illusion is the product of Borromini’s brilliant manipulation of perception by means of accurate calculations and proportions. The gradual diminution of column sizes, the narrowing of the floor, and the ceiling’s calculated slope compress space in a way that deceives the eye into perceiving a much greater depth than the actual length of the gallery.

This work is more than a mere playful trick; it embodies Borromini’s ability to make a concept tangible. Perspective—an intellectual and mathematical principle—is translated into a physical and experiential reality. Visitors walking through the gallery are not merely observing an illusion; they are rather engaging with a crafted experience that transforms an idea into a tactile, inhabitable space. The forced-perspective gallery reflects Borromini’s ability in turning the theoretical into the concrete, making the intangible concept of infinite space a reality within the finite confines of a palace.

Francesco Borromini’s Personal Struggles and Tragic End

Despite his architectural achievements and innovative contributions, Borromini’s personal life was marked by inner turmoil. He was known for his intense and solitary nature, and his perfectionism and uncompromising standards sometimes alienated him from those he worked with. These factors, combined with his rivalry with Bernini and the uneven recognition of his work, deepened his sense of inadequacy. Borromini’s mental health further deteriorated in his later years until, on August 2, 1667, he tragically took his own life, leaving behind a legacy of brilliance tempered by personal suffering. His death marked the loss of one of the most innovative minds of early modern Rome.

Francesco Borromini was a visionary whose contributions to architecture transcended the boundaries of his time and re-invented knowledge to produce dynamic forms and profound symbolism. Despite the challenges he faced, Borromini redefined the possibilities of Baroque architecture, and his work remains a source of fascination and inspiration. The timeless elegance and complexity of his buildings epitomizes the Baroque aesthetic but also stands apart thanks to its originality and daring experimentation.

Theodore Gericault was an outstanding painter of the era on the verge of Romanticism and Realism. Gericault had a tragically short career, yet his rather small artistic oeuvre triggered a chain of developments in the history of art. Contrary to a dominant trend of painting historical scenes and mythology, he was not afraid of addressing contemporary events. His most famous works included the scene of the notorious catastrophe of the frigate Medusa and detailed portraits of mentally ill patients.

1. He Was One of the Most Influential Romantic Painters

Theodore Gericault was born in 1791 into a privileged French family that allowed him to pursue art professionally. His father, a tobacco merchant and plantation owner, recognized the son’s inclinations rather early and sent him to study art at the age of 17. Gericault was a talented student, but he lacked patience and was prone to impulsive outbreaks, which annoyed his conservative teachers.

Gericault’s character seemed like a perfect match for the newly emerging artistic style that would soon take over the entire European scene. Romanticism was the movement that celebrated emotion and dramatized the inner struggle of its characters. It occurred as the counter-force to the rigid and sober Neo-Classical art, too focused on canons and rules to evoke any real feeling from its audiences. The Romantic hero, almost exclusively a young man with a privileged background, exists at odds with the world, misunderstood by it. The nature that surrounds him reflects his complex feelings, erupting in storms. If a Romanticist painting does not have a central hero, he is substituted by a crowd, necessarily suffering from a natural disaster, the gods’ wrath, or war. They are passive and desperate in the face of a force much bigger than all of them and accept their fate with cries and tears.

2. He Impressed Jacques-Louis David and Gustave Courbet

Major success came to Gericault in 1812 with the painting The Charging Chasseur. According to a legend, Jacques-Louis David, upon seeing the painting, immediately exclaimed that he did not recognize the artist who had painted such an impressive work. An established and respected painter, David was shocked he missed out on someone so talented.

Jacques-Louis David was one of the major influences on Gericault’s art. David, known for his fluctuating political loyalty, frequently painted contemporary events like the murder of Jean-Paul Marat and the coronation of Napoleon Bonaparte. However, all these subjects were of heroic or quasi-mythological character. Gericault instead frequently relied on ordinary characters rather than leaders or heroes, deeming them worthy of depiction. In that sense, he prepared the ground for the generation of Realists like Gustave Courbet, who would soon adopt the same approach, making it even more radical.

However, Gericault’s works had movement and dynamism that was previously unseen. Even Jacques-Louis David’s most dramatic works were static, with impressive yet heavyweight compositions. Gericault’s characters, on the contrary, keep moving and swirling, pulling the viewer into the vertigo of their experiences.

3. He Studied Painting in Italy

In Gericault’s time, the most prestigious award an artist could win was the Roman Prize or Prix de Rome. The artists competing for the prize were isolated in rooms with no reference materials and asked to create a painting on an assigned topic. Usually, this was a mythological or historical subject. The winner was awarded a scholarship that covered six years of living and studying art in Italy. The competition was intense, and many artists took it too personally. For instance, Jacques-Louis David, after losing the competition for the third time, went on a hunger strike, threatening the Royal Academy of Art with suicide.

Gericault also lost the competition but managed to find a solution. After selling several of his paintings, he went to Italy on his own. This way, he was not required to spend six years there and fulfill a pre-determined program. He could take everything he needed from Italian art. He visited Rome, Naples, and Florence and studied the works of Caravaggio and Michelangelo. In 1818, he returned to France but later regretted it. This regret was expressed in a series of idealized landscapes that featured Italian nature and architecture.

4. He Created One of the Most Scandalous Paintings

The most famous painting that cemented Gericault’s reputation was presented to the public in 1819. For a long time, Gericault searched for a topic for his grand masterpiece. In 1816, the frigate Medusa ran into shallow waters on its way to Senegal. The ship did not have enough lifeboats, and 152 passengers and crew members had to fit on a makeshift raft that drifted in the waves for two weeks. Starving and exhausted, they attacked each other and resorted to cannibalism. By the time when the rescue team discovered the raft, only 15 passengers were alive.

The painting caused a sensation in the artistic scene. However, many criticized it for a low subject matter painted in such a grandiose manner. The swarm of bodies on the raft referenced another legendary artwork that Gericault witnessed in Rome—the famous fresco by Michelangelo, The Last Judgement, found on the altar wall of the Sistine Chapel.

5. He Visited Morgues to Practice

Gericault had a rather unconventional approach to painting realistically. While working on The Raft of the Medusa, he frequented hospitals and morgues, drawing and painting dying patients, severed limbs, and heads. He even convinced the nurses to give him some body parts of executed criminals so he could observe the process of decay in his studio. The large dark room where he painted smelled so horribly that the artist’s visitors became sick and refused to enter.

Thankfully, none of Gericault’s gruesome experiments made it into final versions of his paintings, remaining only on sketches. Still, his method of work remains a striking example of one’s dedication to art, which can sometimes get quite ugly and unsettling.

6. He Studied Mental Health Issues

In the 1800s, psychiatry was still in its infancy. During Gericault’s lifetime, one of the popular concepts of dissecting and studying mental illnesses was monomania—an intrusive thought or action that drives an otherwise stable patient into madness. Monomanias were believed to leave marks on the patient’s facial expressions and postures, expressing the main emotion or concern of their monomania. Allegedly, by discovering the key idea that tormented the monomaniac, the doctor could offer suitable help.

As photography was still not in use, medical illustrations were a popular method of teaching and diagnosing. In the 1820s, the French physician Étienne-Jean Georget commissioned ten paintings from Gericault that illustrated several monomanias. All models for these paintings were actual patients of Georget, whom he described as clinical cases. Only five works from the series have survived—A Woman Addicted to Gambling, A Child Snatcher, A Kleptomaniac, A Woman Suffering from Obsessive Envy, and A Man Suffering from Delusions of Military Command. Until recently, there was no information about the missing half of the series.

In 2023, the influential medical journal The Lancet published a surprising article in which a molecular biologist and art history enthusiast named Javier Burgos claimed to have discovered three more portraits from the nearly-lost series by Gericault. While visiting an exhibition of a private collection that included Gericault’s work, Burgos noticed how similar one of the portraits was to the existing Georget portraits. Portrait of a Man, Homo Melancholicus was executed in exactly the same proportions as the rest of the series, with identical style, detailing, and color palette. The dress of Homo Melancholicus was painted with the same tone of red used for the scarf of A Woman Suffering from Obsessive Envy.

Diving deeper into private collections and unattributed works in museums, Burgos made two new discoveries. One of the works featured a man matching a case of monomania of drunkenness described by Georget, and the other a man suffering from panic attacks triggered by witnessing the horrors of the Vendée War during the French Revolution. Professional art historians do not refute Burgos’ claims completely but insist that further research is required.

7. Theodore Gericault Died Young

Unfortunately, Gericault’s promising artistic career, marked by The Raft of the Medusa and his other works, was over prematurely. In 1824, at the age of only 32, Gericault died from complications from a surgery which were worsened by a chronic tuberculoid infection. After several horse-riding accidents, a tumor formed in Gericault’s lower spine. A few days before his death, he went through surgery, during which he refused to be sedated so he could observe the process using a mirror.

One of the survivors of the Medusa shipwreck, geographer Alexandre Correard, who befriended Gericault during his work on the legendary painting, created the last portrait of the artist. The chilling work, often mistakenly attributed to the dying Gericault himself, shows a young man in his early thirties turned into a skeleton with bloodshot, blurry eyes.

During the 1820s, Théodore Géricault painted a series of portraits of mentally ill patients commissioned by their doctor. The doctor intended to use them as illustrations for his research paper. After Géricault’s death, five out of ten works were lost without a trace. Two centuries later, a molecular biologist claims he found the missing half of Theodor Géricault’s series.

Who Was Théodore Géricault?

Théodore Géricault was a famous French artist who created his art in the first decades of the 19th century. Géricault was a close friend of Eugene Delacroix and painted in a similar Romantic manner. However, his works already showed a certain degree of sharp and even provocative honesty that would soon manifest itself in the Realist movement led by Gustave Courbet.

Géricault lived a tragically short life, yet managed to create a remarkable and influential oeuvre. His most famous work was the famous Raft of the Medusa, a gruesome and tragic scene of shipwreck survivors stranded on a raft at sea. The painting was a reaction to Géricault’s contemporary events and was perceived as a political expression of the corruption of modern French society. In 1822, just two years before his sudden death, Géricault created a series of paintings for a French psychiatrist Étienne-Jean Georget.

The Monomania Theory

Of course, psychiatry functioned differently in Géricault’s time than today. Still, the origins and, most importantly, ways of treating various mental illnesses were already a pressing topic. Psychiatrists studied their patients and built various theories not only to alleviate their suffering but also to figure out how this suffering came into existence.

The French psychiatrist Jean-Étienne Dominique Esquirol was one of such researchers who came up with the concept of monomania as the unhealthy fixation that turned an otherwise healthy person into his patient. Monomania could affect one’s emotions (e.g. sudden fits of anger), thoughts (e.g. delusions of grandeur, like believing oneself to be a king), or even physical actions (e.g. an uncontrollable urge to steal). Additionally, monomania was believed to leave visible traces on a patient’s facial features and behaviors. In present-day psychiatry, monomania is seen as something outdated and inherently reductive, unable to correctly explain the origins of the patient’s condition and its nuances.

Géricault’s Monomania Series

In 1822, Étienne-Jean Georget, a student and colleague of Esquirol, commissioned Géricault ten portraits of his patients suffering from various forms of monomania. Georget was the chief physician of the Salpêtrière asylum and intended to put his practice into theoretical use. The paintings were supposed to teach students and act as detailed illustrations of monomania manifestations. The series featured a kidnapper, a kleptomaniac, and an old woman addicted to gambling. The most striking figures, however, were the aged woman suffering from obsessive envy and unmotivated anger and the middle-aged man who believed himself to be a military commander. All these cases were described in detail by Georget and Esquirel, providing more insights into patients’ behavior and motivations.

After Étienne-Jean Georget died, the ten portraits passed to his students. Today, they are known only by surnames Lachèze and Maréchal. Lachèze’s part of the collection was later separated and sold to different collections. Yet, his five portraits were the ones that were familiar to art historians since the 1860s. The other half of the series, however, vanished without a trace.

The Missing Part

Géricault left no information concerning the series’s composition, and thus, researchers could not possibly learn what he painted on the remaining five canvases. There were, however, two prevalent theories. The first suggested that the second half of the series represented the same patients, either cured or at least noticeably improving after the treatment administered to them by Georget and his colleagues. The possible changes in appearance and behavior could illustrate how effective monomania treatment could be.

However, this theory had two serious setbacks. The first one is related to Théodore Géricault’s lifespan. The artist died two years after completing the five remaining portraits of the series. However effective Georget’s treatment could be, the time was hardly sufficient to create any serious before & after effects, let alone give the artist enough time to finish not one but five portraits. Another issue was the fact that Georget had two students who shared the paintings with each other. If Géricault indeed depicted the same patients twice, it would be rather odd to separate the double portraits.

The most prominent version suggested that the remaining five portraits represented five other patients of Étienne-Jean Georget and Jean-Étienne Dominique Esquirol. The hints to exact diagnoses and details of characters could be found in the writings and studies of both psychiatrists. Surprisingly, two centuries later, a hint appeared that could probably solve this mystery.

Théodore Géricault’s Asylum Series: Could the Mystery Be Solved?

In 2013, a Spanish molecular biologist called Javier Burgos visited an exhibition Borderline: Artists between Normality and Madness in the Italian city of Ravenna. The show was focused on the artistic treatment of mental illnesses as well as their manifestations in the works of famous artists. Burgos had a deep interest in art but regarded it as a hobby. His primary field of work concerns neurodegenerative diseases such as dementia and or Parkinson’s disease.

One of the works in the Ravenna exhibition was a painting attributed by Géricault titled Portrait of a Man, Homo Melancholicus. The painting, which belongs to a private collector, represents a man wearing a red garment typical for Catholic clergy. His face expresses sadness and indifference, his wrinkled brows form a shape known in Géricault’s time as omega melancholicum, a distinctive sign of melancholy. Melancholia was a fairly common diagnosis, and it certainly was described in the writings of Georget.

Burgos noticed how similar the format of the portrait was to those featured in the Monomaniacs series. Indeed, the position of the head, its scale, and its angle, as well as the light source matched the other five works by Géricault. Upon closer inspection, Burgos noted that the red tone used for the man’s dress was strikingly similar to that used to paint the scarf on The Hyena of the Salpêtrière, the patient suffering from fits of anger and envy. In 2021, he published an article claiming that the painting belonged to the lost part of the series.

More discoveries followed. In 2022, Burgos located the second portrait, which depicted the monomania of drunkenness. He even found a half-torn label stating that this was the work of Géricault, given to its owner by the widow of Marechal, the second student of Georget. The man in the painting has a distinctive red nose, and bruises on his head probably caused by falling while intoxicated. He also demonstrates troubles with thermoregulation, typical for alcoholics: although he is wearing a winter hat, his shirt is wide open. Georget wrote extensively on how chronic alcohol intoxication could lead to dementia, which he studied.

The most tragic yet questionable case Burgos uncovered was the third one. The painting known as Portrait of a Man, Called Vandeen was located in the Louvre the whole time. The man represented is wearing a costume typical for the Vendée region in France. His appearance corresponded to the clinical case described by Esquirol. He had a patient who was around 30 years old and experienced severe childhood trauma from witnessing the Vendée War—a conflict between pro- and anti-revolutionary crowds in the 1790s. The conflict was one of the most violent episodes of the French Revolution, with an estimated death toll of up to 200,000. The patient, exposed to violence and death in his early years, experienced panic attacks and general mental disturbance.

The Louvre purchased the portrait, attributed to Géricault, in the 1930s. Until recently, art curators believed it was painted during Géricault’s trip to Vendée. However, if Burgos’ theory is correct, that means the artist deliberately chose the costume to link the patient to his story. Esquirol wrote that the man avoided close contact and refused to be shaved.

However, not all art experts are enthusiastic about Javier Burgos’ hypothesis. Although the visual similarity of the portraits is obvious, the attribution of all three portraits to Géricault’s hand remains questionable. Even if these works were indeed painted by him, it does not necessarily mean they were part of the series. Still, Burgos’ theories did not meet radical opposition from most experts; rather, they insisted on further research and thorough attribution.

Rembrandt created over 40 painted self-portraits, each capturing his evolution both as a man and an artist. Through these works, he documented his journey—his youthful vigor, his love, and early success, as well as the heartbreaking loneliness that marked his later years. These self-portraits not only reflect his personal struggles but also his artistic development. Read on to explore more about Rembrandt’s self-portraits and discover some of the most famous ones.

Why Did Rembrandt Paint So Many Self-Portraits?

Over the 63 years of his life, Rembrandt painted dozens of self-portraits, with more than 40 of them being paintings. He was the first artist in history to use the genre so extensively, turning it from a simple exercise into an autobiographical tool. Rembrandt’s self-portraits reflected his path from the start of his career to his last years.

From a young man learning to paint, he grew into a respectful and wealthy professional painter and, after falling into financial hardship, transformed into an aged man living in poverty. To paint his own face, Rembrandt relied on a mirror. Thus, the features we see in his paintings are reversed. Rembrandt’s self-portraits are crucial documents of his life, concerns, ideas, and inspirations, and remain an invaluable source for art historians.

Present-day art experts consider self-portraiture as a format that means much more than superficial artistic vanity. A self-portrait is an act of self-recognition as both the artist and the subject worth being painted. In that sense, Rembrandt’s numerous self-portraits illustrate the exploration of his identity as an artist and the transformation of his self-perception.

1. A Young Rembrandt (Self-Portrait with Disheveled Hair)

One of the earliest self-portraits by Rembrandt was painted in the artist’s early twenties. Most art historians believe it was an exercise in chiaroscuro, the sharp contrast between light and shadow that gave extra depth and expression to images. In 1628, Rembrandt still lived in his native Leiden, where he recently opened a studio. Just 22 years old at the time, he soon was noticed by important commissioners, including the secretary of the Prince of Orange Constantijn Huygens. Huygens connected Rembrandt with affluent art patrons from the Hague, bringing him new commissions and an initial boost of recognition.

2. Self-Portrait in a Cap, With Eyes Wide Open

This unusually expressive self-portrait was part of Rembrandt’s studies on emotion and facial features. In the 17th century, Dutch artists developed a specific type of painting known as Tronies—character heads with distinctive and often exaggerated emotions, no backstory, and no extra setting. These paintings had a focus on specific types of characters or costumes and were not tied to specific individuals or personalities.

Rembrandt’s self-portrait etchings were mostly small (one of them, stolen during the infamous Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum heist, was the size of a postage stamp), and represented informal exercises or studies, not intended for presentation. In his painted works, however, Rembrandt often created a curated vision of himself that would reflect and support his social status.

3. The Prodigal Son in Tavern (Rembrandt and Saskia)

Wikipedia

The 1630s were the most successful and happy decade of Rembrandt’s life. Still a young painter, he managed to achieve tremendous success over just a few years and he moved from Leiden to Amsterdam. There, he opened a studio as a portrait painter. In 1634, he married Saskia van Uylenburgh, a cousin of an influential art dealer Hendrick van Uylenburgh, who helped launch Rembrandt’s career. Most likely, van Uylenburgh was responsible for passing the Amsterdam Surgeons’ Guild commission of a group portrait to Rembrandt, thus leading to the creation of the famous painting The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp.

The marriage was a happy one, with Rembrandt seeming deeply and sincerely in love with his wife. Saskia’s social status was higher than that of the artist, and thus, the marriage was materially beneficial for him as well. The 1935 self-portrait is a rare painting showing both Rembrandt and Saskia. The subject illustrated the Old Testament story of the Prodigal Son, a young man who wasted his share of inheritance on superficial joys and came to his father asking for forgiveness. Rembrandt painted himself as the son still unfamiliar with poverty and hardship, drinking in a tavern and entertained by a charming young woman, represented by Saskia. By fate or by accident, the further events of Rembrandt’s life would turn out strikingly similar to the Biblical story.

4. Self-Portrait at the Age of 34

The most monumental and grandiose of Rembrandt’s self-portraits was painted in 1640, less than a year after he and Saskia moved into a new house in a prestigious part of Amsterdam mostly occupied by wealthy merchants. In fact, Saskia was not entirely happy with the move, as she was worried about the loans Rembrandt took out to pay for it. In the end, she was right to worry, as after her death Rembrandt would fall into financial hardship and go bankrupt.

Still, in 1640 everything was well. Rembrandt was a wealthy man who lived in luxury and amassed a large collection of artworks. His skill was recognized well beyond the Netherlands. In the famous self-portrait, Rembrandt painted himself wearing furs, velvet, and gold jewelry. His dress does not reflect Rembrandt’s contemporary fashions. Rather, it is typical for the early 1500s, when painters like Titian and Raphael painted portraits of the Italian elites in similar poses and tones. Thus, Rembrandt represented himself as both equal to the great masters of past centuries, and as a member of the new elite, who earned his status with his artistic skill.

5. The Large Self-Portrait

In 1652, Rembrandt experienced the heaviest crisis of his life. After the death of Saskia in 1642, he gradually lost grasp of his financial stability, with his spending not aligning with his earnings. At the same time, the unique and expressive style of painting that made him famous a decade before began falling out of favor with the public, leading to students leaving his workshop and a radical drop in commission numbers. His personal life was also crumbling. In her will, Saskia stated she granted Rembrandt access to the funds she left to their son as long as the artist did not remarry. Thus, a decade later, Rembrandt was unable to marry his new partner Hendrickje Stoffels without losing access to the money. The daughter of Stoffels and Rembrandt was born out of wedlock, adding to the social pressure and judgment faced by both of them.

The Large Self-Portrait represented a stark contrast with the depictions from the decade before. Instead of furs and gold, Rembrandt is wearing worker’s clothes and looks at the viewer with a somber acceptance of his position.

6. Self-Portrait as the Apostle Paul

In his late years, Rembrandt often painted Christian scenes, sometimes using himself as a model. There, the personality of a saint attached to the artist’s face was not an expression of vanity or self-identification, but an attempt to make the sacred figure more relatable. In the 1660s, religious scenes and Biblical characters were not in favor of Protestant art commissioners, as they valued secular scenes more. Still, Rembrandt continued to paint Christian images, perhaps reflecting on his own hopes and hardships.

7. Self-Portrait With Two Circles

This self-portrait from 1665 is one of the most mysterious and strange paintings done by the master. It is abnormally big and it features Rembrandt with his painting tools and a white cap that already appeared in other works. The strangest elements, however, are the two circles painted in the background that seem unrelated to the rest of the composition. Some art historians believe they could reflect Rembrandt’s intent to illustrate his artistic mastery by painting perfect circles, yet both shapes are incomplete and were placed in a rather strange manner. Other researchers have tried to find a symbolic explanation for the circles, including connecting them to the concepts of Sacred Geometry or Kabbalah, but there is still not enough certainty.

8. The Last of Rembrandt’s Self-Portraits

The Self-Portrait at the Age of 63 by Rembrandt was painted during the last months of his life. He died in October 1669 and had a surprisingly modest funeral, with only his illegitimate daughter Cornelia present. In one of his final works, Rembrandt did not make any attempt to look better than he felt. His face was old and tired, covered in spots and blemishes, and his eyes looked tired and dark. The X-ray scan of the work has shown that the artist repainted the section showing his clasped hands. Initially, he painted himself holding a brush in one hand and special support for weak hands to allow for more precision.

Many famous architectural monuments that appear quintessentially Russian were actually built by foreigners. The iconic walls of the Moscow Kremlin were built by Italian Renaissance architects, and later on, the Winter Palace in St. Petersburg was built by Francesco Bartolomeo Rastrelli. An Italian born in Paris in 1700 who accompanied his father Carlo Bartolomeo to St. Petersburg in 1716, Rastrelli is best known for the palaces he built in Russia for Empress Elizabeth of Russia. He began his career at the Russian court working for her predecessor, Empress Anna.

1. Rundale Palace

An elegant Baroque palace with a yellow and white decorative scheme, Rundale Palace is one of the most iconic palaces in the Baltic region. Rastrelli was commissioned to build the palace by Empress Anna of Russia as a summer residence for her royal favorite, Ernst Johann von Biron. Prior to becoming empress in 1730, Anna had been Duchess of Courland, a Polish fief in present-day Latvia. When the ducal line of the House of Kettler became extinct in 1737, Anna encouraged the Courlanders to elect Biron as duke.

Biron had acquired the site in 1735. An existing manor was demolished and its masonry used in the construction of the new palace. Work began in 1736 but gradually slowed down from 1738 as work on Jelgava Palace was prioritized. Shortly after Anna’s death in October 1740, Biron fell from grace and was exiled to Russia. Work on the palace was stalled until 1762, when Biron was restored to the duchy of Courland. Out of favor in Russia, Rastrelli supervised work at Rundale between 1764 and 1767, and the final works were completed by 1770.

Biron spent his summers at the palace from 1768 until his death in 1772. His son Duke Peter preferred Vircava Manor near Jelgava as his summer residence. When Courland was formally annexed to the Russian Empire in 1795 following the third partition of Poland, the palace was given to Valerian Zubov, younger brother of Catherine the Great’s lover Platon Zubov.

Rundale was occupied by Napoleonic troops in 1812 and by German troops in World War I and suffered badly during the Latvian War of Independence in 1919. While a few renovated rooms were used for various purposes, in 1972, the Latvian Soviet government opted to fully restore the palace. The work was completed in 2014, and the palace is one of the most popular attractions in Latvia.

2. Jelgava Palace

While construction work at Rundale was underway, in 1738, Rastrelli was commissioned to build a new palace for Biron in Mitau, the capital of Courland, now known as Jelgava. The old castle on the site, which had been built by the Livonian Order in 1265, was demolished to make way for the palace, which would become the largest in the Baltic states. The plans for the new palace included space for a crypt as the final resting place for Brion and his family. The sarcophagi of the Kettler dukes were also moved from the old church on the site, which had been demolished.

Jelgava Palace shared a similar fate to Rundale Palace. Work stopped in 1740 and restarted in 1762, and the palace was completed in 1772, the same year of Duke Ernst Johann’s death. It served as Duke Peter’s main city residence until his death in 1795, after which it was taken over by the Russian provincial administration. At the turn of the 19th century, the future Louis XVIII lived in the palace for a few years after being granted asylum by the Russian court. The palace also came under Napoleonic occupation and served as a military hospital.

After suffering extensive damage during the Latvian War of Independence, the palace was renovated and given to the Jelgava Academy of Agriculture in 1939, shortly before the palace was ruined again during the Second World War. Reconstruction efforts began in 1957, and in 1961, the palace returned to the Latvia Academy of Agriculture, which became the Latvian University of Agriculture in 1990 and the Latvia University of Life Sciences and Technologies in 2018. The university supervised further reconstruction works between 2001 and 2018. While most of the palace is used for academic purposes, visitors can access the burial vault of the Dukes of Courland, managed by the Rundale Palace Museum.

3. Peterhof Palace

In 1714, Peter the Great commissioned the construction of a palace at a site a few miles west of his new capital of St. Petersburg called Peterhof (German for “Peter’s Court”). In keeping with his own restrained tastes, the original palace was initially a modest affair, but the tsar intended to dazzle the foreign dignitaries he received at the palace with extensive gardens featuring a Grand Cascade and a canal leading into the Neva Bay. The main decorative element of the cascade, known as the Samson Fountain, was designed by the architect’s father Carlo Bartolomeo Rastrelli and installed in 1735 in honor of Peter’s victory over the Swedish Army at Poltava in 1709.

Peter’s daughter, Empress Elizabeth came to the throne in 1741 after overthrowing her infant cousin Ivan VI in a military coup. Her tastes were far more extravagant than those of her father, and in 1745, she commissioned Rastrelli to transform the palace to suit her style. Rastrelli proved equal to the task, adding one floor to the main palace and extending it outwards by building two wings and symmetrical chapels on either side to fill the width of the gardens. Rastrelli’s creation came to be known as the Grand Peterhof Palace.

Catherine the Great was less enamored with the Baroque, and during the 1760s and 1770s the interiors were overhauled in the more austere Neoclassical style. The interiors of the eastern wing were remodeled again in the 1840s by Tsar Nicholas I’s daughter Olga Nikolaevna. Like many of Rastrelli’s palaces outside St. Petersburg, Peterhof was destroyed by the Germans in the Second World War. Reconstruction work began shortly after the war. In 1964, the first rooms were reopened to the public.

4. Saint Andrew’s Church, Kyiv

Rastrelli’s commissions for Empress Elizabeth were not solely restricted to St. Petersburg and its environs. In 1744, the empress commissioned a new palace in Kyiv from Rastrelli. Part of the scheme involved the construction of a church on a hill where, according to the Tale of Bygone Years (also anachronistically known as the Russian Primary Chronicle), St. Andrew the Apostle had placed a cross and prophesized the emergence of a great city. Several churches dedicated to St. Andrew had occupied the site over the centuries. Rastrelli’s design envisaged a church with a central dome topped with a spire, and four smaller spires at each corner. The church was to be accessed via a large ramp leading up to the main entrance. Due to the steepness of the hill, this became a staircase.

Empress Elizabeth was present at the laying of the foundation stone of St. Andrew’s Church in September 1744, and work on the structure continued until 1757. The interior decoration took another decade to complete. The church was built under the personal supervision of Russian architect Ivan Michurin, who surveyed the site and built deep foundations into the hill to maintain the integrity of the building.

The church’s blue walls, white columns, and green roofs form an iconic part of Kyiv’s skyline. St. Andrew’s Church also preserves Rastrelli’s interiors, including a three-tier baroque red and gold iconostasis. The church continued to operate following the Russian Revolution but was closed in 1932 and turned into a museum. Services were restored during World War II but stopped again in 1961. The church was transferred to the Ukrainian Autocephalous Orthodox Church in 2008, but before its annexation by the Moscow Patriarchate in 2018, it was gifted to the Ecumenical Patriarchate of Constantinople.

5. Smolny Convent

In 1744, Rastrelli was commissioned to build the Smolny Convent. Located on the banks of the Neva, the site had previously been occupied by a summer palace belonging to Peter the Great’s second wife Empress Catherine I. As the daughter of Peter and Catherine, Empress Elizabeth had spent much of her childhood at the palace but rarely visited after seizing the throne. When a fire destroyed much of the palace in 1744, Elizabeth decided to build a convent on the site for aristocratic girls. The empress also envisaged potentially retiring to the monastic complex herself.

Rastrelli initially submitted a design in a Roman baroque style with a single-domed church and a four-story belltower. Not long after work started in 1748, the empress ordered Rastrelli to modify his design to conform to Russian architectural traditions. Rastrelli accordingly submitted a revised plan in the form of a conventional Greek cross with a central dome and four smaller belfries in the corners. Under the new plan, the belltower was now to be in five tiers and reach 140 meters in height. After the design was approved, Rastrelli added a further tier to extend the belltower to 170 meters, which would have made it the tallest building in Europe.

Work on the cathedral began in 1751 and proceeded quickly, but the outbreak of the Seven Years’ War in 1756 diverted resources away from the project, which ground to a halt. The complex remained unfinished by Elizabeth’s death in January 1762. In 1764, Rastrelli was dismissed as court architect by Empress Catherine, who appointed her favored architect Yury Felten to convert the buildings to house educational institutions for noble girls. At the beginning of the 19th century, the Smolny Institute of Noble Maidens moved into a purpose-built structure next door, which served as the headquarters of the Bolshevik Party during the October Revolution of 1917.

During the 1820s, Tsar Nicholas I ordered Vasily Stasov to finish the cathedral, which was consecrated as the Cathedral of the Resurrection of Christ in 1835. Rastrelli’s plans for the belltower were never realized. The cathedral was shut during the 1920s following the Russian Revolution, and services did not resume until 2010.

6. Catherine Palace

The Catherine Palace in Tsarskoye Selo (Tsar’s Village) owes its name to Empress Catherine I, who had a stone palace on the site built in 1723. Naturally, the palace could not accommodate Elizabeth’s extravagance, and around 1743, work began on enlarging the existing palace. Rastrelli assumed responsibility for the work on the Catherine Palace in 1748, and in 1752, Elizabeth gave approval for the reconstruction of the original palace.

Rastrelli embellished his blue-and-white façade with red gold (a gold and copper alloy), which sparkled in the sunlight. Gold gilding was also used extensively in the interiors, particularly in Rastrelli’s “Golden Enfilade.” This suite of rooms extended the full length of the palace, beginning with an antechamber leading to the Great Hall, an airy space of over 800 square meters for balls and other formal events. During the day, light flooded in from the gardens on one side and the courtyard from the other, and in the night, the room was illuminated by 696 candles.

The suite also includes the famous Amber Room, gifted by King Frederick William I of Prussia to Peter the Great in 1716. During World War II, the contents of the room were taken by German forces to Königsberg. While the fate of the original Amber Room remains a mystery, the Soviet authorities decided to rebuild the Amber Room in 1979, and the reconstructed room was opened to visitors in 2003.

During the 1770s, Catherine II commissioned the Scottish architect Charles Cameron to redecorate her apartments in her preferred Neoclassical style. Cameron was also responsible for the construction of a sculpture gallery known as the Cameron Gallery. The empress also ordered the exterior gilding to be repainted in drab olive green, resulting in a muted effect. Catherine commissioned a number of monuments in the gardens to celebrate Russia’s successes during the Russo-Turkish War (1768-1774), and in 1792, she commissioned the Italian Neoclassical architect Giacomo Quarenghi to build the Alexander Palace for her favorite grandson, the future Alexander I.

In 1811, Tsar Alexander founded the Imperial Alexander Lyceum, an educational institution for noble boys housed in a new wing of the Catherine Palace beyond Rastrelli’s chapel. The poet Alexander Pushkin and the diplomat and statesman Alexander Gorchakov were among the Lyceum’s first intake. In January 1815, the 15-year-old Pushkin recited his “Memories in Tsarskoye Selo” before the distinguished poet Gavrila Derzhavin during his oral examinations. Derzhavin approved of the teenager’s verses, which celebrated Russia’s military victories under Catherine the Great, as well as the latest victories over Napoleon in 1812. These exploits were also commemorated by a suite of rooms and a Triumphal Arch designed by Vladimir Stasov in 1817.

Following the Russian Revolution, the adjacent town of Tsarskoye Selo was renamed Detskoye Selo (Children’s Village). In 1937, it was renamed Pushkin in honor of the poet’s connection to the town.  After its destruction during World War II, reconstruction work on the Catherine Palace began in 1957. While parts of the palace were reopened to the public in 1980, work continues on the reconstruction of Catherine the Great’s suite designed by Charles Cameron.

7. Winter Palace

The Winter Palace, on the banks of the Neva in St. Petersburg, served as the official residence of Russia’s monarchs between 1732 and 1917. The palace stands on the original site of a humble log cabin which served as Peter’s first residence in the city. In 1711, Peter commissioned a small palace from Domenico Trezzini. The palace was overhauled by German architect Georg Johann Mattarnovi in 1721, and Peter died in the palace in 1725. In 1728, Peter’s grandson Tsar Peter II ordered Trezzini to enlarge the palace.

After Empress Anna came to the throne, she took residence in the neighboring Apraksin Palace, which had belonged to the recently deceased General Admiral Count Fyodor Apraksin. In 1732, she ordered Rastrelli to completely rebuild the Apraksin Palace and incorporate the adjacent Winter Palace into the scheme. Rastrelli continued to work according to the plan following Empress Elizabeth’s accession to the throne. Elizabeth preferred to live in Rastrelli’s Summer Palace on the Fontanka River, but in 1753, she commissioned an ambitious design from the architect.

Rastrelli’s new plan involved a quadrangular palace on a monumental scale. Elizabeth spared no expense on the palace and was keen to see it finished quickly, and funds were still allocated to the project during the Seven Years’ War. Work proceeded so rapidly that workers often had to wait for the arrival of new building materials. By 1759, the palace was mostly complete, but Elizabeth did not live to see the completion of the palace in 1762.

The palace became the favored city residence of Catherine II, who ordered Ivan Starov and Giacomo Quarenghi to overhaul Rastrelli’s interiors, creating the Neva enfilade consisting of three grand state rooms. The centerpiece was the Great Hall, the largest room in the palace measuring over 1,000 square meters, which was later renamed the Nicholas Hall in honor of Nicholas I.

The only parts of the palace that correspond to Rastrelli’s original design are the grand Jordan Staircase and the palace chapel. Catherine also extended the palace eastwards with the construction of two palaces known as the Small and Large Hermitages, as well as the Hermitage Theatre. Catherine intended these new spaces as a private retreat to entertain close associates and admire her growing art collection, which she put together by instructing her agents to buy up major private collections from Western Europe.

During the 1820s, Tsar Alexander I conceived of the Military Gallery of 1812, containing over 300 portraits of generals who served in the recent war against Napoleon. After the palace was heavily damaged by fire in 1837, Tsar Nicholas I ordered the rebuilding to be completed within a year, though the extensive works took more than two years to complete.

The Winter Palace has witnessed some of the most important events in Russian history. In March 1881, the dying Alexander II was brought to the palace after having his legs torn off by an assassin’s bomb. His bloodstained uniform is exhibited in the Grand Church. In January 1905, Palace Square witnessed the killing of peaceful protestors by palace guards in Bloody Sunday, leading to the 1905 Revolution. After the incident, Tsar Nicholas II and his family preferred to stay away from the city center and retreated to the Alexander Palace in Tsarskoye Selo.

During the October Revolution of 1917, Bolshevik Red Guards entered the Winter Palace to arrest members of the Provisional Government. The original “storming of the palace” was in fact a rather restrained and farcical affair, with the Red Guards breaking into the palace through a nondescript back door. In 1920, a far more dramatic reenactment was staged on the third anniversary of the event. This, in conjunction with Sergei Eisenstein’s dramatization in his 1927 film October, transformed the event into one of the most iconic scenes of the Russian Revolution.

Now part of the State Hermitage Museum, the Winter Palace attracts millions of visitors each year. The striking green-and-white decorative scheme on the palace exterior is actually relatively recent. The palace was initially decorated in a pale yellow according to Rastrelli’s original design, reminiscent of the decorative scheme of Rundale Palace. By the turn of the 20th century, the exterior was dark red. The palace only acquired its current color scheme in 1946.

In the mid to late 19th century, two of Britain’s leading creative figures could be found at the heart of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood: Christina and Dante Gabriel Rossetti. While Dante Gabriel Rossetti became one of the most influential artists of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, Christina Rossetti came to be seen as one of the greatest English poets of her time. Throughout both of their careers, the two siblings worked on projects together and exchanged ideas, resulting in shared themes in both poetry and painting being disseminated throughout the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.

The Childhood of Christina and Dante Gabriel Rossetti

 Dante Gabriel Rossetti (whose birth name was Gabriel Charles Dante) was born in London in 1828, and Christina Rossetti was born in the same city in 1830. Their father, Gabriele, was an Italian poet who had been forced to leave Italy because of his criticisms of King Ferdinand of Naples. Their mother, Frances Polidori, was a governess from London. Having been hired as a professor at King’s College in 1831, Gabriele was extremely passionate about his literary scholarship, which orbited around the medieval Italian poet Dante Alighieri. This passion touched the lives of all of the Rossetti children, with the four of them writing their own stories and poems at a young age.

While their siblings William and Maria were known as the “two calms” of the family, Dante Gabriel and Christina were known as the “two storms.” While this nickname may suggest that the two had an overly emotional nature, Dante Gabriel and Christina showed studious dedication to their respective crafts even in their early years. As a teenager, Dante Gabriel was a student at Sass’s Drawing Academy and entered the Antique School of the Royal Academy once he had completed his studies there. By the age of twelve, Christina was seriously writing poetry and had her poems privately published by her grandfather when she was sixteen.

During this period of her life, her father Gabriele became seriously ill with what could have been tuberculosis and began to go blind. In order to earn extra income, Christina helped her mother earn a living as a teacher, while at the same time balancing writing her poetry. Dante Gabriel, in the meantime, immersed himself in his studies, and by 1848 had become a founding member of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood.

A Pre-Raphaelite Partnership

Even before the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood’s official formation, Dante Gabriel encouraged Christina to share her poetry with the movement’s early members. At the time, Christina was not interested, which Dante Gabriel attributed to her modest nature. While Christina never became an official member of the group, both the brother and the sister played an important role in the development of the type of language and imagery that would come to define the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Both of them, for instance, had some of their writings published in the short-lived Pre-Raphaelite publication The Germ.

Christina even posed for her brother’s paintings Ecce Ancilla Domini! and The Girlhood of Mary Virgin. As their careers developed, each seemed to have been keenly aware of what the other was either doing or had done, and used it as a form of personal inspiration. This familial interconnection resulted in some of the definitive visual and literary works of the Pre-Raphaelites.

Goblin Market

A key example of the interconnectedness of Christina and Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s work can be found in their collaborations on Christina’s published volumes of poetry. Dante Gabriel was enthusiastic about helping his sister to become a recognized author, personally convincing the publisher Alexander MacMillan to begin publishing her work. The relationship with MacMillan eventually led to the publication of her anthology Goblin Market and Other Poems in 1862. Goblin Market quickly became one of Christina’s most beloved poems. It recounts the story of two sisters, Laura and Lizzie, who face down the temptations offered by a group of sinister goblins. The poem is extremely rich in its language, creating a vivid fairytale world in the minds of its readers in which a failure to resist evil can prove deadly.

The world that Christina Rossetti constructed in this poem was extremely influential on the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, with artists constructing similar fables in their art. Dante Gabriel himself was not immune to this influence, and it can be felt in the illustrations he created for the poem when it was first published. For example, his illustration for the title page of the book encapsulates the kind of fantasy world that would come to be so important for future Pre-Raphaelite works. It features the two heroines of the poem sleeping peacefully in their bed, with a quote from the poem describing the sisters, “golden head by golden head,” directly below.

In the distance, the goblins process with their goods in what resembles a sort of danse macabre. This constant threat of evil in the face of innocence, illustrated in both the poem and the works of art that Dante Gabriel created for it, came to be a defining feature of the art of other artists associated with the Pre-Raphaelite style, such as John William Waterhouse and Edward Burne-Jones.

The Prince’s Progress

After Goblin Market and Other Poems achieved success, Dante Gabriel encouraged Christina to continue releasing tomes of poetry, which ultimately culminated in The Prince’s Progress and Other Poems in 1866. Dante Gabriel attempted to double as both illustrator and editor of this anthology, informing Christina on what scenes he thought could be added to the volume’s longest poem, The Prince’s Progress, and which of the volume’s other poems deserved to be removed.

Christina listened to his advice but pushed back firmly on many of his ideas. Nevertheless, in The Prince’s Progress, Christina crafted a tale that had a distinct Pre-Raphaelite sensibility. The poem centers around a princess longing for her prince, while the prince’s escapades delay him from reaching her before she dies. Its themes of temptation and the pain that love can bring became the defining themes of many future Pre-Raphaelite works. Like Goblin Market, it was also rich in detail, particularly in its depictions of the prince’s heartbroken paramour.

Once more, Dante Gabriel’s illustrations for the work built upon the Pre-Raphaelite world that Christina had described in her text, framing the characters in a distinctly medieval setting. The attire of the characters is long and flowing, evocative of a simpler and purer time, and their surroundings feature many medieval details. Pre-Raphaelite artists had already been crafting such worlds in their earlier works and would continue to do so throughout the 19th century. Through illustrating the manuscript in such a way, Dante Gabriel firmly asserted his sister’s identity as a Pre-Raphaelite poet.

Italia, Io Ti Saluto!

Christina and Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s works were also connected by more abstract interests and themes. One of the most important of these was a love of their father’s native Italy. In the 1860s, both of them used their understanding of Italian culture to explore their own complex emotions in a particularly impactful way. The deep sense of emotion expressed by Christina and Dante Gabriel Rossetti at this time, both in poetry and in painting, pushed the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood forward on its trajectory towards intensely psychological works of art.

Dante Gabriel, for instance, began work on his painting Beata Beatrix in this decade. This painting was created in response to the death of the artist’s wife, Elizabeth Siddal, in 1862. In the painting, Elizabeth Siddal is depicted in front of the Ponte Vecchio bridge in Florence, Italy, closing her eyes with a peaceful expression. Both this Italian imagery and the title of the painting are drawn from the poetry of Dante Alighieri, the subject of many of Gabriele Rossetti’s writings, with specific reference to the death of Dante’s love interest Beatrice as described in La Vita Nuova. By giving the painting this title and framing the subject with imagery drawn from Dante Alighieri’s Florence, the artist suggests that his mourning for Elizabeth is as profound as the poet’s was for Beatrice.

In 1865, Christina’s poem Italia, Io Ti Saluto! was written. Like the title of Beata Beatrix, the title of the poem firmly establishes a connection between the author and the nation of Italy. Italia, Io Ti Saluto!, translated into English, literally means, “Italy, I greet you!” The poem was written while Christina was traveling through Italy with her brother William and her mother Frances and expresses the alienation she felt from the English culture in which she was born. In the text of the poem, Christina anticipates eventually having to return to England, illuminating her sense of mourning with the words,

To see no more the country half my own,Nor hear the half familiar speech,Amen, I say; I turn to that bleak NorthWhence I came forth –The South lies out of reach.

Christina Rossetti’s “Day-Dreams” and Dante Gabriel Rossetti’s “The Day Dream”

One of the greatest examples of the mutual inspiration between the brother and sister lies with Christina’s 1857 poem Day-Dreams, and Dante Gabriel’s 1880 painting The Day Dream. In her poem, Christina writes from the perspective of a man wondering why the woman he loves seems to be in a trance, deeply unaware of the world around her. The poem describes the woman in the stanza:

So she sits and doth not answerWith her dreaming eyes,With her languid look deliciousAlmost Paradise,Less than happy, over wise.

Dante Gabriel put these words into visual form in his painting The Day Dream. Here, the subject of the painting, the artist’s mistress Jane Morris, similarly looks out with a dreamlike expression. The lack of emotion on her face draws attention to her unknown state of mind, crafting a mystery in the same manner as Christina’s poem.

At the time of The Day Dream’s creation, the artist had written his own poem to accompany the painting. Unlike Christina, Dante Gabriel focuses heavily on natural imagery in his poem, which accounts for the emphasis on the foliage surrounding Jane Morris in the painting. Nevertheless, both poems explore the concept of a woman lost in her own thoughts and the effect such a woman has on a male admirer.

As a result, it seems likely that Dante Gabriel was, in his own way, attempting to reinterpret an idea that his sister had articulated in her own work. It is important to note that the painting The Day Dream was completed over twenty years after Christina Rossetti originally wrote her poem. Even though many years had passed, the impact of Christina’s words on Dante Gabriel’s painting seems to suggest that her poetry remained with him, no matter what challenges the passage of time brought.

Rembrandt van Rijn was a master of light and shadow, renowned for his unique ability to create depth and emotion through his use of multi-layered painting techniques. His works, which seem to glow with life, have captivated audiences for centuries. Since his death, these masterpieces have lived on, full of mysteries, losses, and surprising revelations that continue to intrigue scholars and art enthusiasts alike. Take a closer look at the seven most famous Rembrandt paintings.

1. “The Night Watch”: The Most Famous Rembrandt Painting

The most famous painting by Rembrandt was commissioned by a unit of the Amsterdam Civic Guard. The painting is a masterpiece of group portrait and composition, as it contains 34 different characters, almost all clearly identifiable as real people and the work’s commissioners. Nonetheless, Rembrandt highlighted the most important figures by placing them in the spotlight. The central character of the scene is Captain Banninck Cocq, the unit’s leader. Contrary to its popular name, The Night Watch scene is unfolding in daylight. The misattribution happened due to old varnish that darkened with age. The actual title of the work is Militia Company of District II under the Command of Captain Frans Banninck Cocq.

Over the centuries since its creation, The Night Watch lived through many events that affected its condition. With the beginning of World War II in 1939, the canvas was rolled up and hidden inside a mountain vault near Maastricht. Moreover, The Night Watch was attacked by vandals three times: in 1911, 1975, and 1990.

2. The Anatomy Lesson of Dr. Nicolaes Tulp

Another of Rembrandt’s compositional masterpieces, The Anatomy Lesson was a commission from the Amsterdam Surgeons Guild headed by Dr. Tulp, who is seen performing a dissection. The body of the dissected man belonged to Aris Kindt who was hanged for armed robbery. Unlike many of his contemporaries who painted dissections, Rembrandt did not cover the body’s face, insisting that the surgeons dealt with real human beings. Instead, he placed a shadow over Kindt’s face to indicate his difference from the living.

Art historians doubt that Rembrandt ever personally dissected human flesh to study anatomy. Most likely, he attended dissections performed by surgeons, which were treated in his time as public entertainment for the middle and upper classes, and studied the position of bones and muscles from anatomy books. Present-day surgeons noticed the mistakes in the muscle structure that would have been avoided if Rembrandt had worked with actual human body parts.

3. Danaë

Painted in 1636, the painting was one of the most sensual works in all of Rembrandt’s career. Rembrandt’s interpretation of the Danaë myth was not intended for sale and, most likely, was painted for the artist’s home. The mythical heroine’s face was reminiscent of the artist’s wife Saskia. After Rembrandt went bankrupt and was forced to sell all his works and belongings, the painting changed several owners before being bought by Catherine the Great.

In 1985, the painting was seriously damaged after an attack by Bronius Maigys, a Soviet Lithuanian who came to the State Hermitage Museum in Leningrad (present-day Saint Petersburg) with a vial of acid, a knife, and an explosive device. After slashing Danaë’s face and body with a knife, he poured acid over the painting. Detained by museum guards and visitors, he did not manage to set off the device. Maigys claimed his attack was a patriotic act and a protest against the Soviet occupation of Lithuania. However, his mental instability, history of antisocial behavior, and portraits of Adolf Hitler found in his belongings did not work out well for his public image.

The attack caused severe damage to the painting, as a piece of paint began flaking off its central part right after the contact with acid. To preserve the work, the Hermitage conservators began spraying it with paint almost immediately. The complete restoration and conservation of Danaë took 12 years.

4. Susanna and the Elders

The 1947 painting retold the Biblical story of Susanna, who was almost assaulted by two lustful old men and wrongfully accused of adultery. This was a rather popular artistic subject that often had erotic undertones. Rembrandt avoided excessive sexualizations of Susanna, typical in works on this theme by other artists, instead presenting her as a victim of blackmail and false accusations.

The painting had a surprising collaborator who dramatically transformed the work more than a century after its completion. Sir Joshua Reynolds, one of the most respected and accomplished English Rococo portraitists, was also an avid art collector and admirer of Rembrandt. In the late 18th century, he purchased the painting and redone it, dissolving parts of the image and repainting almost all of its background, leaving only figures intact. Although Reynolds was known for generously retouching works from his vast collection, it is unclear why he went for such a radical intervention into the great master’s work.

5. The Return of the Prodigal Son

The Return of the Prodigal Son is one of the masterpieces of Rembrandt’s late period. At the time, the artist lived in poverty and had to move from his previous home into the poor Jewish quarter on the outskirts of Amsterdam. He lost his popularity as a painter partially because he focused on Biblical scenes which fell out of favor with the general Protestant public.

The story of a Prodigal Son is a story of loss and repentance. In the Gospel of Luke, Jesus told the parable of a man who had two sons. The younger son asked to receive his share of the future inheritance and spent it all on travels and superficial pleasures, and after facing poverty and hunger, came back asking for forgiveness. The older son, who remained at their father’s side, judged him, while the father welcomed him back. Rembrandt’s painting retold the moment of the reunion and also suggested that the judgmental attitude of the older son needed healing as much as the reckless behavior of the younger. Most likely, Rembrandt, who went from being a successful rich artist to a weak old man living in poverty, felt connected to the story personally.

6. The Prodigal Son in Tavern (Rembrandt and Saskia)

The Return of the Prodigal Son was neither the only nor the first interpretation of the parable by Rembrandt. Several decades later, Rembrandt, still young and married to his beloved Saskia, painted a portrait of both of them in the parable’s setting. There, young Rembrandt appears as the younger son from the story, entertaining himself at a tavern next to a beautiful young woman. The 1630s were the most successful years in Rembrandt’s life and career, as he achieved significant success as a painter, received commissions, and even accepted students into his workshop.

Rembrandt clearly enjoyed his newfound success but, given the subject of the painting, realized that at some point, he would have to pay for the joys of the moment. The artist illustrated the parable of the prodigal son several times in his career as it was popular among Protestant commissioners for its moralistic value. For several years, Saskia was Rembrandt’s favorite model. At the time of their marriage, Saskia held a much higher social status than Rembrandt but nonetheless insisted on marrying him. Unfortunately, the couple had lost three of four of their children in infancy, and Saskia herself died a year after their youngest son was born.

7. “Christ in the Storm”: The Lost Rembrandt Painting

The only known seascape that Rembrandt ever painted is also one of the works we probably might never see again. Christ in the Storm at the Sea of Galilee was stolen from the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum in 1990 and never located, despite decades-long efforts of the police worldwide. The painting was crudely cut out from its frame and rolled up. Even if the painting still exists physically, most likely the damage caused during the heist and decades of neglect effectively destroyed it beyond restoration.

Like many other works by Rembrandt, The Sea of Galilee featured Rembrandt’s self-portrait, this time as one of Jesus’ disciples. At the time, the artist was just 29 years old. Seascape painting was popular in Rembrandt’s time, as the Netherlands strengthened its power as a colonial empire with developed trade by sea.