Art Eyewitness Review: Henri Rousseau Exhibit at the Barnes Foundation

 

Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets

The Barnes Foundation, Philadelphia 

October 19, 2025 – Feb. 22, 2026  

Reviewed by Ed Voves

Original Photography by Anne Lloyd

It has taken three visits to the outstanding exhibition on Henri Rousseau, at the Barnes Foundation, to get my thoughts in order about this enigmatic French painter. I particularly wanted to see if Rousseau could be included in one of the classifications created for visionary artists of his temperament.

Was Rousseau a Symbolist? Was he a Surrealist before the fact, as Andre Breton later stated? Could he be considered as a Magical Realist, a category established decades after his death?

None of the above, from what I can gather.

The Barnes Foundation exhibition, organized in collaboration with the Musée de l’Orangerie, Paris, presents sixty works by Henri Rousseau. Many are powerful, occasionally disturbing paintings, dreamlike in some instances, nightmarish in others. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's Carnival Evening, 1886

Several of these complex, hard-to-fathom works were created early in Rousseau's career. One of these is Carnival Evening, painted in 1886. Given its sophistication, Carnival Evening makes establishing a timeline of Rousseau's creative development difficult to construct.

Quite a number of the other works on view in the Barnes exhibition are small format paintings, generally banal and lacking the air of mystery which makes Rousseau's major works so remarkable. Individually, some of these genre scenes, still life paintings and family portraits have a measure of charm. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's View of Clichy Bridge at Asnieres, c. 1900-02

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's Pere Junier's Cart (detail),1908

When viewed as a group, however, their ability to hold our interest, even as "naive" works of art, soon dissipates.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Gallery view of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets, showing small-scale landscapes which Rousseau painted for working-class patrons.

Rousseau's lesser works are not inept, as many people viewed them at the time. Rather, they are mediocre by design. Rousseau "tossed-off" such paintings to make a quick sale in order to pay the rent and have a few francs left over for dinner. 

This was exactly the life-style of the impoverished Rousseau, whose personal life was blighted by tragedy, as well. Rousseau struggled during the whole span of his artistic career, never achieving an eventual "payday" such as Monet and Renoir enjoyed. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Two portraits by Henri Rousseau. At left, is Portrait of a Woman, 1895,  later purchased by Picasso. At right, is Portrait of Madame M., c. 1895

Indeed, one of the most striking works on view in the exhibit is a large-scale  portrait which the young Picasso purchased from a Paris art dealer who had marked it down as a canvas to be painted-over. Picasso, who had earlier considered Rousseau as something of a joke, treasured the portrait for the rest of his life.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Portrait photo of Henri Rousseau, by Dornac, 1907

Henri Rousseau (1844-1910) was a self-taught artist, driven by a desire to paint and a determination to be taken seriously. In the most famous photo of him, taken in 1907, Rousseau posed in front of one of his signature "jungle" paintings, Scouts Attacked by a Tiger. For the occasion, he wore an over-size beret worthy of a Rembrandt self-portrait and a cravat which might have come from Delacroix's wardrobe. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's Scouts Attacked by a Tiger, 1904

Such attempts at self-promotion failed miserably. When Rousseau first exhibited Scouts Attacked by a Tiger in 1904, he was ridiculed in the press. The painting was dismissed as a picture to attract a collector of "horrors" and remained unsold.

At best, Rousseau was classified as a "primitive" painter during his lifetime - when he wasn't being lampooned and derided. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Gallery view of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets at the Barnes Foundation. The painting at center is Portrait of Frumence Biche.

If "primitive" is indeed an appropriate term to be used in consideration of Rousseau, then it is largely because he lived near the baseline of poverty and privation. This was especially so during his later years when his modest pension no longer covered expenses. 

Though ambitious for recognition and success, Rousseau approached the subjects of his art with empathy and awareness, born of the threadbare environment around him. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's The Rabbit's Meal, 1908

When Rousseau painted the portrait of a rabbit, normally raised by French peasants and townsfolk for the table, there is an evident bond between man and beast. Art scholars contend that the rabbit was likely a pet, rather than tomorrow's dinner. But Rousseau knew what it is like to live on the knife edge of mortality.

As I grappled with comprehending Rousseau's oeuvre, I recalled that he figured prominently in the later chapters of Andre Malraux's The Voices of Silence. So I reached over to my bedside bookshelf in order to consult this greatest of French art writers regarding Henri Rousseau.

Malraux referred to Rousseau as the Douanier, this being the title of Rousseau's civil service position as a customs inspector. Originally a patronizing, even insulting, reference among Rousseau's colleagues and competitors, Douanier eventually became an endearing nickname for him by the time Malraux wrote The Voices of Silence. 

The Douanier, Malraux stated, "seems to derive from nothing." Pondering Rousseau's emergence as an aspiring artist, Malraux contrasted his work with "naive" painting in France of the same period. Malraux notes :

He loves that painting, imitates it, makes it his starting point; then swerves away and, though never quite abandoning it, strikes out in his own direction. While his early works are saturated by its influence, the "Snake Charmer" belongs to another realm of art.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's The Snake Charmer, 1907

Just where the "realm" of The Snake Charmer fitted into the established art tradition is a matter of speculation. Malraux knew that there were limits even to his astute insights. Instead, he wisely let Rousseau speak for himself.

"People have said," the Douanier wrote in 1910, "that my art does not belong to this age. Surely you will understand that at this stage I cannot change my manner, which is the result of long years of persistent work."    

Work. That is the key to understanding Rousseau. He wanted to be an artist and he worked to become one. Without formal training or family connections in the art world - his father was a tinsmith - Rousseau dedicated himself to "long years of persistent work."     

 

        

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's The Wedding, 1905

Hard work and struggle against the odds no doubt explains the appeal of Rousseau to Dr. Albert Barnes. When Dr. Barnes began directly buying works of art for his Foundation in the aftermath of World War I, interest in Rousseau was rising. So were the prices of the deceased artist's paintings. No matter. Barnes purchased eighteen Rousseau masterpieces. It was - and remains - the greatest collection of Rousseau paintings outside of France. 

The eighteen Rousseau paintings amassed by Dr. Barnes provides the foundation of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets. A similar trove of works of art comes from the collection of the Musée de l’Orangerie. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's Child with a Doll, c. 1892

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's War, 1894

Especially notable among the paintings on loan from the Musée de l’Orangerie and the Musée d'Orsay are two utterly dissimilar paintings. That the same artist created the immensely lovable Child with a Doll (c.1892) and the shocking War, painted a mere two years later, is almost impossible to credit.  

It is also difficult to conceive how the curators of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets could have reconciled the many contradictions and inexplicable elements of Rousseau's life and work. Yet, that is precisely what Nancy Ireson and Christopher Green managed to achieve. 

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Nancy Ireson and Christopher Green at the press preview for 

Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets at the Barnes Foundation

Both curators bring outstanding credentials to the study of Henri Rousseau. In fact, they worked together on the major Rousseau exhibition, presented twenty years ago, at the Tate Modern Gallery, London. The exhibition later traveled to the Grand Palais, Paris, and the National Gallery, Washington. Green was the curator of this exhibition; Ireson, who was working on her doctoral dissertation on Rousseau, was his chief assistant.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Gallery view of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets, showing

 Scouts Attacked by a Tiger & Fight between a Tiger and a Buffalo

The title of the 2005-06 exhibition was Jungles in Paris. Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets at the Barnes has an entire gallery devoted to Rousseau's lush, imaginary landscapes. It is virtually a complete exhibit, in itself. To do full justice to these extraordinary paintings, I will post a follow-up review in Art Eyewitness in the near future. 

Once a visitor to the Rousseau exhibit at the Barnes enters the show's last gallery. they will understand why I can hardly restrain my enthusiasm.

  

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

 Gallery view of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets, showing

The Sleeping Gypsy, Unpleasant Surprise and The Snake Charmer

This final gallery of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets is - without exaggeration - one of the most effective pictorial displays that I have ever seen. This is not merely a matter of technical use of space and lighting, though both are handled splendidly. Rather, in this small space, Green and Ireson have managed to summon the mental universe of Henri Rousseau to life.  

Presented here are three mighty works, never displayed together, not even in Rousseau's studio during his lifetime, until now: 

• The Sleeping Gypsy (1897) Museum of Modern Art (NYC)
• Unpleasant Surprise (1899-1901) Barnes Foundation
• The Snake Charmer (1907) Musée d'Orsay

Each of these three paintings illustrates vital aspects of how Rousseau conceived of the great questions and challenges of living. But these are enigmatic works. They leave us guessing what Rousseau's own, inner, thoughts were regarding the meaning of life. 

                            

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's The Sleeping Gypsy, 1905 (and detail) 

Does The Sleeping Gypsy depict a moment of mortal peril or is it a dream? Is this a real lion or a Jungian archetype in the unconscious mind of the gypsy?

  Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's Unpleasant Surprise, 1899-1901

Was Rousseau attempting to create an Old Master-style narrative scene with Unpleasant Surprise? Or might the many ludicrous aspects of the painting reveal that it was conceived as a mock epic, a sly reworking of the unclad heroine-in-distress motif? 

  

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025)

Henri Rousseau's The Snake Charmer (detail), 1907

Finally, when we peer into the eyes of The Snake Charmer, do we behold the hypnotic gaze of a sorceress? Or is this the piercing look of one who understands that the "state of nature" is no paradise? To live in freedom is to live with danger, as another Rousseau, Jean Jacques Rousseau, affirmed.

There are likely no definitive answers to these questions. When we take the opportunity to study these paintings in the chapel-like setting of the final gallery of the Barnes exhibit, we do indeed confront what Ireson and Green call the Rousseau enigma.

Into each of these paintings, as the curators note, Rousseau put a special effort. 

".. each of them is on one level up-front in its appeal and on another an impenetrable mystery."

These enigmas are Henri Rousseau's special gift to us. With the extraordinary works of his imagination, Rousseau invites, encourages, almost insists that we make use of our own.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved.

Original photography, copyright of Anne Lloyd

Introductory image: Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery view of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets at the Barnes Foundation, Philadelphia.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's Carnival Evening, 1886. Oil on canvas: 46 3/16 x 35 1/4 in. (117.3 x 89.5 cm.) Philadelphia Art Museum.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's View of Clichy Bridge at Asnieres, 1900-02. Oil on canvas: 17 5/16 x  15 3/4 in. (44 x 40 cm.) Barnes Foundation.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's Pere Junier's Cart (detail), 1908. Oil on canvas: 38 3/16 x 50 13/16 in. (97 x 129 cm.) Musée de l’Orangerie, Paris.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery view of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets at the Barnes Foundation, showing small-scale landscapes which Rousseau painted for working-class patrons.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Two portraits by Henri Rousseau. At left, is Portrait of a Woman, 1895. Oil on canvas: 63 x 41 5/16 in. (160 x 105 cm.) Musée National Picasso, Paris. At right, is Portrait of Madame M., c. 1895. At right, is Portrait of Madame M., 1895. Oil on canvas: 77 15/16 x 45 1/16 in.(198 x 114.5 cm.) Musée d’Orsay, Paris.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Portrait photograph of Henri Rousseau, 1907 taken by Dornac (Paul Francois Arnold Cardon) Original photo, Archives Larousse, Paris

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's Scouts Attacked by a Tiger, 1904. Oil on canvas: 47 7/8 x 63 3/4 in. (121.6 x 161.9 cm.) Barnes Foundation.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery view Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets at the Barnes Foundation, showing Rousseau's Portrait of Frumence Biche, 1893.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's The Rabbit's Meal, 1908. Oil on canvas:19 11/16 x 24 1/8 in. (50 x 61.2 cm.) Barnes Foundation.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's The Snake Charmer, 1907. Oil on canvas: 65 3/4 x 74 5/8 in. (167 x 189.5 cm) Musée d’Orsay, Paris.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's The Wedding, 1905. Oil on canvas:    64 3/16 x 44 7/8 in. (163 x 114 cm.) Musée de l’Orangerie, Paris.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's Child with a Doll, c. 1892. Oil on canvas: 26 3/8 x 20 1/2 in. (67 x 52 cm.)  Musée de l’Orangerie, Paris.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau's War, c. 1894. Oil on Canvas: 45 1/16 x 76 3/4 in. (114.5 x 195 cm) Musée d’Orsay, Paris

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Nancy Ireson and Christopher Green at the press preview for Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets at the Barnes Foundation, Philadelphia

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets, showing Scouts Attacked by a Tiger & Fight between a Tiger and a Buffalo.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery view of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets, showing The Sleeping Gypsy, Unpleasant Surprise and The Snake Charmer.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) The Sleeping Gypsy (and detail) ,1897. Oil on canvas: 51 x 79 in. (129.5 x 200.7 cm.) MOMA New York.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Unpleasant Surprise, 1899-1901. Oil on canvas: 76 9/16 x 51 in. (194.5 x 129.5 cm.) Barnes Foundation.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) The Snake Charmer (detail), 1907. Oil on canvas:  65 3/4 x 74 5/8 in. (167 x 189.5 cm.) Musée d’Orsay, Paris.

Anne Lloyd, Photo (2025) Gallery views of Henri Rousseau: a Painter's Secrets at the Barnes Foundation.

Art Eyewitness Book Review: Great Art Explained by James Payne

Z

Great Art Explained

By James Payne

Thames & Hudson/320 pages/$39.95

Reviewed by Ed Voves

The first great work of art which I ever saw was likely the greatest I ever will see. 

The date was 1964 and the place was the New York World's Fair. The "great" work of art was The Pieta by Michelangelo. Loaned by the Vatican for the World's Fair and transported with elaborate safety measures, it was truly a moment in art history. Upon its safe return to Rome, The Pieta was declared too precious - and fragile - to ever travel again. 

Michelangelo's The Pieta at the New York World's Fair, 1964 

Viewing The Pieta today is an experience recalling the Resurrection when Christ declared to Mary Magdalene, "Noli me tangere" ("touch me not"). Following a horrifying act of vandalism in 1971, the restored Pieta is now protected by bullet-proof glass.

For those unable to travel to Rome, Michelangelo's portrayal of martyrdom and grief can only be appreciated at second hand, via the pages of a well-illustrated book or an art video. Increasingly, such "noli me tangere" moments apply to masterpieces closer to home, like Starry Night on a crowded day at MOMA.

Ed Voves, Photo (2019)

Gallery view of the Museum of Modern Art, NYC, with

 Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night,1889, in the background

For those craving a less harried look at The Pieta, Starry Night and other "icons" of art, there is also the option of Youtube, notably the popular programs hosted by James Payne.

Payne's YouTube series, Great Art Explained in 15 Minutes, is a fantastic success. It currently offers seventy-seven insightful presentations and is closing-in on two million subscribers. Now, Payne is pursuing the more traditional method of the written word to further his efforts to "demystify" masterpieces for art lovers around the world.

Great Art Explained: the Stories behind the World's Greatest Masterpieces is published by Thames & Hudson. This is significant for two reasons. T&H has been "demystifying" art for scholars and general readers for over seventy-five years. Moreover, the signature format of T&H books, especially the World of Art paperbacks, is the close integration of word and image, precisely what Payne is doing on YouTube.

Author and publisher are brilliantly matched in a book of exceptional merit. Great Art Explained will surely please Payne's Youtube audience, as well as readers who have yet to tune in to his series. Great Art Explained succeeds on every level of art scholarship and appreciation  - and shear enjoyment.

Payne begins explaining art by examining one of the greatest works of Asian art. This is the extraordinary handscroll, Along the River during the Qingming Festival, attributed to a Chinese artist named Zhang Zeduan. 

Measuring 17 ft x 10 in. (5 metres x 25.5 cm.), Along the River dates to China's Song dynasty. It was created sometime between 1085-1145, the high point of Song rule in Northern China. 

Detail from a copy, c. 18th century, after Zhang Zeduan's Along the River during the Qingming Festival, Song Dynasty, 1085-1145

Zeduan's painting, ink on silk and paper, is a tribute to prosperity and  political stability, real or imagined. The throng of tiny citizens may inhabit an idealized depiction of the city of Bianjing, but this is the ideal upon which civilizations are based.

Along the River during the Qingming Festival has been regarded as a national treasure of China almost since its completion. Numerous copies have been made over the centuries. One of these, a colorized version, is in the collection of the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Jan van Eyck, The Arnolfini Portrait, 1434

By contrast, there are only two protagonists - and two reflected figures - in Payne's next selection, The Arnolfini Portrait. Painted by Jan van Eyck in 1434, this is a work of startling immediacy. Rich fabrics, a brass chandelier, the ornate mirror, expensive oranges ripening on the window sill point to a comfortable, untroubled middle class life style. Or, after a second glance, maybe not.

Detail of the mirror in Jan van Eyck's The Arnolfini Portrait. The reflected figure, dressed in blue, is believed to be Van Eyck.

With The Arnolfini Portrait is one of the most mysterious works of art ever created. The symbolic meanings of its profusion of brilliantly articulated details have been endlessly debated. Nearly six hundred years after he painted it, Van Eyck is still keeping us guessing. 

Is this a marriage portrait, as was once widely believed? If so, is the lady in green gathering her robe to suggest - or conceal - that she is pregnant? Why is there a bed in the living room? What does the hand raised in benediction signify? One radical theory holds that this gesture reveals Giovanni Arnolfini was a member of a secret religious sect.

With a palette full of insights, Payne paints a different perspective. Instead of celebrating married life or esoteric rituals, The Arnolfini Portrait is a mournful tribute to the green-clad lady of the house. Costanza Trenta married Giovanni Arnolfini in 1426, dying in 1433 - one year before Van Eyck painted their dual portrait. 

Payne concludes that this enigmatic work is actually a memorial painting for Costanza. He then proceeds to discuss a wide range of details underscoring the sad fact of her demise. He notes, for instance, that the frisky dog in the painting likely references "the common practice of placing dogs at the feet of women on late medieval tomb effigies."

The clinching argument regarding this elegiac work of art is the touching gesture at the very center of the painting. 

Payne writes of the way that Arnolfini grasps the hand of his wife:

Yet perhaps the most compelling evidence is the tentative way in which he holds her hand, as if she is on the brink of slipping away from his grasp. Ultimately, the painting can be said to embody the essence of a love that transcends even death itself.

Payne's empathetic examination of The Arnolfini Portrait is indicative of the way he treats all thirty of the works of art "explained" in his book - and the artists who created these masterpieces.

From a Renaissance allegory like Botticelli's The Birth of Venus to Hilma af Klint's pioneering Abstract works, from Hokusai's ukiyo-e print, Under the Wave off Kanagawa to the polished marble of Rodin's The Kiss, Payne expertly guides us to better appreciate these familiar images. Along the way, he pinpoints visual details we never noticed before, influential trends and ideas of which we were only dimly aware.

       

Works of Art included in Great Art Explained.

 Clockwise, from top left,  Botticelli's The Birth of Venus, 1485; Hilma af Klint's Group X,No. 2. Altarpiece, 1915; Rodin's The Kiss, 1882; Hokusai's Under the Wave off Kanagawa, 1830-33.

Payne surveys these thirty masterpieces with a judicious blend of story-telling, technical analysis and social commentary. An amazing number of little known facts are added to the mix, which enable readers to see these works of art in a new light. 

Michelangelo's Pieta is a case in point. Today, The Pieta has become a defining image of the Italian Renaissance. However, the artistic motif of the dead body of the crucified Jesus being held by his mother, Mary, originated over a century before in Germany. This motif created problems for Italian artists, who found it awkward to pose the body of a grown man in the arms of his aged mother.

Disregarding precedent, Michelangelo solved the problem by reducing the stature of Christ's body to that of an adolescent youth. Mary's physique and her billowing robes were increased in order to support the body of her dead son. 

Michelangelo's The Pieta on view in St. Peter's Basilica, Rome

Most people, viewing The Pieta hardly notice these anatomical alterations. Michelangelo was able to transform this scene of suffering, making it appear graceful and poignant - and believable. How did the 24-year old sculptor achieve this incredible balance of attributes?

Michelangelo's technical mastery is obviously the prime determinant of success. But he was able to create an emotional bond between the sculpted-marble Mary and Jesus which exists in the living hearts and souls of all humankind. 

When we behold a tragic scene such as this, we do feel pity for the stricken mother and child. But we are moved to a very great degree by a sense of identification. Viewing their tragedy, we feel a tug on the emotional umbilical chord linking ourselves and the women who gave us life.

The Pieta succeeds by directly involving the viewer in the primal human drama of love and loss. So does a vastly different work of art which Payne brilliantly probes, though the principal emotion in this painting is lust.

We are referring, of course, to Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon.

Ed Voves, Photo (2019)

Gallery view of the Museum of Modern Art, NYC,

 showing Pablo Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, 1907

Payne's "you-are-there" analysis of Les Demoiselles deserves a brief quotation, in order to show the very high caliber of his insights and narrative skill. 

Payne notes that Picasso's original design of the "Bordel d'Avignon" included two male clients - which he discarded in the finished painting. 

Payne writes:

By eradicating the men and focusing exclusively on female figures, Picasso explores a more complex relationship between sex, power, desire, the male gaze and artistic representation. With the female figures' attention directed away from the clients and towards us, the viewer, we are implicitly cast in the role of a potential client, transforming our viewing experience into an uncomfortable encounter with the act of looking and consuming the female body.

If Picasso was unsparing in shoving viewers through the brothel door- where they may or may-not wish to go - Payne responds in kind. He judges the Spanish painter with uncharacteristic severity for his personal conduct, as the "artist's deplorable treatment of women left behind a trail of destruction."

In the case of all the other artists included in Great Art Explained, there is a palpable sense of empathy between author and subject. This is especially true for the eight women artists in the book. Not only is this a significant percentage of the total number of artists "explained" by Payne, but he has included Suzanne Valadon and Hilma af Klint, along with more familiar figures like Frida Kahlo.

Valadon and af Klint were two female painters of exceptional talent, who only a decade or so, ago, scarcely merited a mention in a survey of art for general readers like Great Art Explained. 

Suzanne Valadon, The Blue Room, 1923

I was privileged to be able to review one of the recent exhibitions which helped to bring Valadon's oeuvre to a wider audience. This was at the Barnes Foundation in 2021 where the painting selected by Payne for focused study, The Blue Room, was prominently displayed. Payne chose wisely including Valadon and The Blue Room in Great Art Explained.

However, it is a rare art book which can escape some measure of carping criticism for picking this or that artist over one who really "deserves" to be included. Why was Monet selected rather than Manet? Turner rather than Constable? Etc., etc.

For my part, I have to question why Payne chose four Renaissance works, separated by only a few short years. Even if they were created by Botticelli,  Hieronymus Bosch, Michelangelo and Leonardo da Vinci, this seems a bit like stacking the deck. Couldn't he have found space for a painting or sculpture from the Mannerist era of the mid-1500's?

Agnolo Bronzino, Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time, 1545

After all, if ever a painting needs to be "explained", it is Agnolo Bronzino's Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time. I've been trying to figure-out that one for years - and I'm not even close.

***

Text: Copyright of Ed Voves, all rights reserved. Original photos by Anne Lloyd and Ed Voves, all rights reserved.

Introductory Image: Anne Lloyd, Photo (2017) Gallery view of Old Masters Now: Celebrating the Johnson Collection, Philadelphia Museum of Art, Nov. 2017-Feb. 2018.

Michelangelo's The Pieta at the New York World's Fair, 1964. Vatican Slide, D-1. http://www.worldsfairphotos.com/nywf64/vatican.htm

Ed Voves, Photo (2019) Gallery view of the Museum of Modern Art, NYC, with Vincent van Gogh's Starry Night, 1889, in the background.

Cover art of Great Art Explained by James Payne, 2025. Courtesy of Thames & Hudson

Copy after Zhang Zeduan's Along the River during the Qingming Festival, Song Dynasty, 1085-1145. Copy attributed to the 18th century. Handscroll; ink and color on silk: 11 3/4 in. x 33 ft. (29.8 x 1004.6 cm) Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Jan van Eyck (Flemish, c. 1390-1441) The Arnolfini Portrait, 1434. Oil on wood: 82.2 × 60 (32 3/8 × 23 5/8). © The National Gallery, London.

A Sampler of Art Works included in Great Art Explained: Sandro Botticelli's The Birth of Venus,1485. 172.5 × 278.5 (68 × 109 6/8) © Gallerie degli Uffizi, Florence; Hilma af Klint's Group X, No, 2. Altarpiece,1915. Oil and metal leaf on canvas, 238 ×179 (93 3/4 × 70 1/2). © Hilma af Klint Foundation; Auguste Rodin's The Kiss (copy) displayed at the Rodin Museum, Philadelphia; Hokusai's     Under the Wave off Kanagawa, from Thirty-six views of Mount Fuji,  c. 1830-33.

• Woodblock print; ink and color on paper: 10 x 15 in. (25.4 x 38.1 cm) Metropolitan Museum of Art

Michelangelo (Italian, 1475-1564) The Pieta, 1499. St. Peter's Basilica, the Vatican. Marble sculpture: 174 cm × 195 cm (68.5 in × 76.8 in) Original photo by Stanislav Traykov, 2008, Creative Commons. 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Piet%C3%A0_(Michelangelo)

Ed Voves, Photo (2019) Gallery view of the Museum of Modern Art, NYC, showing Pablo Picasso's Les Demoiselles d'Avignon, 1907. Oil on canvas: 8' x 7' 8" (243.9 x 233.7 cm) Museum of Modern Art.

Ed Voves, Photo (2021) Suzanne Valadon's The Blue Room, 1923. Centre Pompidou – Musée National d’Art Moderne/CCI, Paris, on deposit to the Musée des Beaux-Arts de Limoges. Photo taken at the Barnes Foundation, Philadelphia, 2021.

Agnolo Bronzino (Italian, 1503-1572) Venus, Cupid, Folly and Time,1545. Oil on wood: 146.1 x 116.2 cm.  © The National Gallery, London.