Wednesday, February 4, 2026

Artists Pictured

Carlo Maratti
Self Portrait
ca. 1680-85
drawing
Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Dresden


Jan van Mieris
Portrait of an Artist
1688
oil on panel
Hamburger Kunsthalle
 
Alexis Grimou
Self Portrait as Bacchus
1728
oil on canvas
Musée Magnin, Dijon

Charles-Nicolas Cochin the Elder
Eustache Le Sueur
1731
etching and engraving
Graphische Sammlung, ETH Zürich

Silvestre Pomarede after Ciro Ferri
Self Portrait of Cirro Ferri
ca. 1740-60
engraving
Kupferstichkabinett, Hamburger Kunsthalle

Giovanni Battista Casanova
Anton Raphael Mengs
ca. 1750
drawing
Staatliche Kunstsammlungen, Dresden

Paolo Fidanza after Michelangelo
Self Portrait of Michelangelo
ca. 1757-64
etching
Staatliche Graphische Sammlung, Munich

Stephen James Ferris
Mariano Fortuny
1873
etching (cliche verre)
National Museum of American History,
Washington DC

John Frederick Peto
Self Portrait in Tree
ca. 1895
modern print from glass plate negative
Archives of American Art, Washington DC

Victor David Brenner
Portrait of James McNeill Whistler
1905
brass relief mounted on wood
Freer Gallery of Art Collection, Washington DC

Donald Shaw MacLaughlan
Jean Frelaut
1909
drypoint
National Gallery of Canada, Ottawa

Alfredo Valente
Portrait of sculptor Paul Manship
ca. 1939
gelatin silver print
Archives of American Art, Washington DC

Sanford Roth
Giorgio Morandi
ca. 1947
gelatin silver print
Los Angeles County Museum of Art

Naomi Savage
Man Ray, Princeton NJ
1963
gelatin silver print
Archives of American Art, Washington DC

Hans Namuth
Philip Johnson
1987
gelatin silver print
National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC

William Greiner
William Eggleston
1999
inkjet print
National Portrait Gallery, Washington DC

David Dawson
Lucian Freud and Frank Auerbach at the V&A
2006
C-print
Victoria & Albert Museum, London

Of late, what time the Beare turn'd round
At midnight in her woonted way,
And men of all sorts slept full sound,
O'ercome with labour of the day,

The God of Love came to my dore,
And tooke the ring and knockt it hard.
Who's there, quoth I, that knocks so sore,
You breake my sleepe, my dreames are marde?

A little boy forsooth, quoth hee,
Dung-wet with raine this Moonelesse night;
With that mee thought it pittied mee,
I ope the dore, and candle light.

And straight a little boy I spide,
A winged Boy with shaftes and bow,
I tooke him to the fire side,
And set him downe to warme him so.

His little hands in mine I straine,
To rub and warme them therewithall:
Out of his locks I crush the raine,
From which the drops apace downe fall.

At last, when he was waxen warme,
Now let me try my bow, quoth hee,
I feare my string hath caught some harme,
And wet, will prove too slacke for mee.

Hee said, and bent his bow, and shot,
And wightly hit me in the hart;
The wound was sore and raging hot,
The heate like fury rekes my smart.

Mine host, quoth he, my string is well,
And laugh't, so that he leapt againe:
Looke to your wound for feare it swell,
Your heart may hap to feele the paine.

– from Anacreontea (short anonymous ancient Greek poems in the spirit of Anacreon)
as anonymously translated (1602)