Paintings

There are paintings that, at first glance, seem to have come straight out of Leonardo da Vinci's workshop. The same oval faces, the same light emerging from shadow, that almost hypnotic stillness in the gestures. Yet many of these works were not painted by Leonardo, but by an artist who worked alongside him and whom art history remembers by a curious name: Giampietrino. His is the story of someone who learned from the most influential genius of his time and who, precisely because of that, spent centuries living in his shadow.

Some painters change everything. And some painters change everything in silence. Johannes Vermeer belongs to the second group. He founded no movement. He left no manifestos. He had no known disciples. He painted 34 pictures, perhaps 37, nobody is entirely sure, and disappeared from history for almost two centuries. When the world rediscovered him in the 19th century, it was like opening a door that had been closed too long. On the other side was light. A light nobody has been able to fully explain.

The Kiss is an oil painting with added gold and silver leaf by the Austrian Symbolist painter Gustav Klimt. Its German title, Liebespaar, means: Lovers. It is considered a masterpiece of the early modern period, an icon of Jugendstil — Viennese Art Nouveau — and is regarded as Klimt’s most popular work.

Despair is everywhere. The sea devours them. A small raft trembles beneath broken waves. A man clings on, his eyes wide with fear. A mother holds her child tightly. One arm still reaches out. This is not a fictional scene. It is the central image of one of the most brutal and modern paintings of the 19th century: The Raft of the Medusa, by Théodore Géricault. A work that does not merely depict a shipwreck, but political failure, the incompetence of power, and the extreme fragility of human beings when civilization disappears.