It's by Zinaida Serebriakova, a wonderful painter with a fascinating life whose story is worth knowing...
Zinaida Lanceray was born in 1884 in the Russian Empire near Kharhov, modern-day Ukraine, to an artistic family.
Her father was a sculptor, her grandfather a famous architect, her uncle a painter.
She followed in their footsteps and studied art from a very young age.
She was tutored by the master Ilya Repin, from whom she learned about Realism, and later travelled to Europe, where she studied in France and Italy.
In her paintings of Paris from this time we can see that Serebriakova was also influenced by Post-Impressionism:
From a young age she was interested in the life of common people, of peasants and shepherds and fishermen, and of the agricultural world.
This was a theme she would return to time and time again throughout her life.
In 1905 Zinaida married Boris Serebriakov and, over the next decade, had four children.
This marked the beginning of her so-called "Happy Years", and we see another of the artistic themes which would dominate Serebriakova's career: family.
As in these portraits of her husband:
Or, above all, of her children.
Whether at breakfast in the morning, with the wetnurse, or all together at dinner:
Serebriakova also painted self-portraits thoughout her life. With all their vivacity and honesty they might just be her best work.
As with her playful Self-Portrait as Pierrot, and another in the mirror with her beloved children:
Serebriakova sent her Self-Portrait At the Dressing Table to an exhibition in 1909 - it was received with critical acclaim. Even then her startlingly modern expression was a hit.
Along with Green Autumn and Peasant Girl, all were successfully auctioned.
From 1914 onwards Serebriakova started to reach full artistic maturity, and certainly enjoyed the most successful years of her career with paintings such as Harvest (1915) and Bleaching Linen (1917).
She was all set to become part of the St. Petersburg Academy...
But everything changed with the Russian Revolution of 1917.
The first problem was artistic: her personal style was no longer welcome in the world of avant-garde and Suprematist and Constructivist art favoured by Soviet Russia.
And there was personal tragedy. Her beloved husband Boris was arrested in 1919 and died of typhus in jail.
Without his income and with declining commissions in the new regime, things took a downward turn.
Serebriakova was now a single mother with four children to raise:
They left the family estate - which had been plundered - and moved to an apartment in Petrograd.
She couldn't afford oil paints anymore, but Serebriakova continued to paint, taking an interest in ballet and theatre, which her daughter Ekaterina had taken up:
She also continued to paint her children, perhaps with a streak of melancholy rather than the purer joy that had come before.
But something had to give...
In 1924 she travelled to Paris, hoping to find commissions there and thus raise enough money to support her family.
Little could Serebriakova have known that travel would soon be restricted by the Soviet government. She was refused re-entry into Russia and became an exile.
Serebriakova found both work and community in Paris with a group of Russian emigres and sent her earnings home. In 1926 her youngest son, Alexander, was allowed to join her, and in 1928 Ekaterina followed.
Here we see Serebkriakova in a 1930 self-portrait, looking perhaps a little more world-weary than in her earlier self-portraits:
Serebriakova also visited Morocco several times, which left a deep impression on her.
There she found great delight in painting the ordinary people, as once she had done in Russia:
And back in France Serebriakova continued to paint the common people, whether fishermen or bakers, alongside portraits for wealthier clients:
And in this era of her Parisian exile we see another theme emerge more fully in Serebriakova's work: the female nude.
It had long been there, as with Bather (1911), but during the 1920s and 1930s she painted them more frequently:
Unsurprisingly, she painted them rather differently to how men usually have done in art:
During the Second World War, because of her nationality and frequent contact with her family in the USSR, Serebriakova became suspect in Nazi occupied Paris.
She was forced to renounce her Russian citizenship - and seemingly any hope of seeing the rest of her family again.
Zinaida Serebriakova's life and career had been long and volatile, affected by both World Wars and tarred with personal tragedy. And yet she had also become a successful and critically acclaimed artist.
Here we see a rather happier Self-Portrait from 1956:
But there was one great twist left. Thanks to Khrushchev’s Thaw, her daughter Tatiana was given permission to visit her mother in Paris, in 1960, and they were reunited after 36 years.
Zinaida Serebriakova was 76 at that point; Tatiana 50.
And in 1966 a vast exhibition of Serebriakova's work was held in Moscow; her work was a critical and commercial success.
Serebriakova had even travelled there - returning to Russian soil for the first time in nearly four decades - to witness it. Closure at last.
Zinaida Serebriakova went back to Paris and died there the following year, in 1967, at the grand old age of 82.
Whether in depictions of her family, the common people, or herself, few painters have ever quite achieved such tenderness, intimacy, vivacity, and honesty.
I've written about Zinaida Serebriakova before in my free weekly newsletter, Areopagus.
It features seven short lessons every Friday, including art, architecture, rhetoric, and history.
The Museum of Modern Art in New York opened 95 years ago today.
So, from Vincent van Gogh to Minecraft, here's a brief tour through MoMA...
New York's Museum of Modern Art — opened on 7th November 1929 — was founded by Abby Aldrich Rockefeller, Lillie P. Bliss, and Mary Quinn Sullivan.
First based in the Crown Building, MoMA changed location several times and quickly grew in scale, popularity, and influence.
In 1939 it finally moved to a purpose-built museum, which has been expanded and added to over the last nine decades.
MoMA now holds over 200,000 works of art, from the late 19th century through today, along with masses of other materials relating to art history and design.
Some of the strangest and most frightening paintings ever made:
1. The Dog by Francisco Goya (1823)
2. Stormtroopers Advancing Under Gas by Otto Dix (1924)
The First World War was filled with horrors previously unknown, and few artists captured them more vividly than Otto Dix.
These, and his other portrayals of warfare in the trenches, are nightmarish.
3. The Heavy Basket by Tsukioka Yoshitoshi, from The Thirty-Six Ghosts (1892)
A wonderfully strange, deeply unnerving example of yūrei-zu, a subgenre of Japanese art dedicated to depicting the ghosts and peculiar creatures of folklore.
You've probably heard his name before — but who was Erasmus and why does he matter?
This is the story of history's greatest educator...
The first thing to know about Erasmus is that he was born in 1469 and died in 1536.
So his life coincided with one of the most turbulent and influential periods in history: the Renaissance, the Reformation, the rise of the printing press...
And Erasmus was involved in it all.
Erasmus was born in Gouda, the Netherlands, and by the age of 14 both his parents had died.
His guardians, who couldn't be bothered to raise the child themselves, sent him to a monastery.
In 1492 he was ordained as a priest, though books interested him much more than preaching.
The story begins over two thousand years ago with the architecture of Greece and (later) Rome.
The Ancient Greeks had first built their temples with wood, and — influenced by the Egyptians and Mycenaeans — slowly developed a codified way of building.
Classical Architecture.
What defined Classical Architecture?
Many things, but the most important are round arches, symmetry, extremely specific rules about proportion, and the famous "Classical Orders" — five kinds of column with their own rules for size and decoration.