19th century British painter Edwin Longesden Long began his career as portrait painter.

He became friends with painter John Phillip, who was noted for his portrayals of life in Spain, and accompanied him on trips there, where he painted Spanish genre scenes and was introduced to the works of Velázquez and other great Spanish painters.

Long was modestly successful as a portraitist and genre painter, but it was after trips to Egypt and Syria in 1874 that he shifted his focus, and his success and recognition came as an orientalist, painting large elaborate pictures of Biblical subjects and exotic tableaux of scenes from the Middle East like The Babylonian Marriage Market (images above, top, with detail).

I’ve had the pleasure of seeing the latter painting in person, and it’s easy to see why Long’s work was in demand and at high prices. He filled these beautifully painted large canvasses not only with attractive people, particularly women in exotic costume, but with richly detailed archeological objects, recreated with great accuracy.

Long was the forerunner of a style exemplified by slightly later Victorian painters like Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, Sir Edward John Poynter and Frederick Lord Leighton.

Irena Roman paints bright, crisp, transparent watercolors, both as illustrations and for gallery display.

She particularly excels at the challenge of portraying the play of light across, through and around transparent or translucent objects and their often complex shadows.

You can find a selection of her work on The iSpot, though the images a bit small to appreciate her nuanced handling of the medium.

Her blog has several larger images linked to some of the images in the posts. There is also a short bio on iSpot.

Roman’s work has been featured in publications like Splash: The Best of American Watercolor, Print and Communication Arts, and on the cover of Watercolor Magic magazine.

The image above, top, was just accepted into the 2012 American Watercolor Society’s Annual International Exhibition and she has been awarded Signature Membership status.

Today is John Singer Sargent’s birthday.

A search for his work on the wonderful, recently redesigned website of the Metropolitan Museum of Art brings up over 600 images.

Yes, the iconic and astonishingly accomplished society portraits are well represented, and if you want to focus on those, you can limit your search to show only artworks on display, which sharply reduces it to 18 finished and beautiful works.

Part of the fascination for me, however, is exploring the less finished, less often seen works by Sargent in the museum’s collection, including watercolors, drawings and sketchbooks.

Sargent was prolific, and sketched and painted in watercolor for his own pleasure in addition to his more finished commissioned portraits.

The wonderful thing about browsing the Met’s website, aside from the amazing quantity and quality of their collection of Sargent, is that almost all of the images are viewable in large, sometimes wonderfully large, versions.

On each image’s detail page, click on the image or the “View fullscreen” link below it, and then zoom, or even better, use the download image arrow at bottom right to view the image larger.

This gets my Major Timesink Warning.

Enjoy.

English artist and writer Patrick Woodroffe is self taught as an artist, having studied languages at the University of Leeds. He is noted for his illustrations for books and record album covers, basically in a fantasy vein, but with a unique approach and artistic roots in artists like Bosch and Bruegel as well as Surrealism and Magic Realism.

Since I wrote about him in 2007, Woodroffe has added to his site images of more recent projects that borrow some of the form of fold-out Renaissance altarpieces (which I’ve described before as the Gothic and Renaissance equivalent of hypermedia). In these, wooden panels, often intricately carved or painted on themselves, open to reveal triptych panels within.

In Woodroffe’s case, he has extended the idea of revealed images even further, with interior panel portions within images that apparently open or turn around to reveal additional image variations.

Unfortunately, his website doesn’t present these in a clear or consistent enough manner for me to be certain of how they are actually constructed, but they are fascinating nonetheless.

There are also paintings in other frames and settings, both conventional and unconventional.

His paintings have moved toward visionary art, with intricate, highly textural compositions that feel as though they carry symbolism as well as presenting landscapes of the fantastic. The images on his site are tantalizing, but frustratingly small given their level of detail.

There are also sections on his site for his “Tomographs” a phrase he coined separately before being aware of its use in medical imaging, meaning painted objects that are often photographed against the context of real scenes.

There is an additional section devoted to his earlier work, with even smaller images, but these are accompanied by detail crops that give you at least a glimpse of the nature of the full image.

There are also other sections on books, ideas and past projects that bear looking through, as well as a selection of works available for purchase.

Because of his astonishing skill and the unfortunately small number of his known works, the enigmatic Dutch painter Johannes Vermeer probably has one of the highest masterpiece/oeuvre ratios in the history of art.

Among Vermeer’s (and the art world’s) most notable masterpieces is a small jewel of a painting called The Lacemaker.

It has on occasion been called the second most important painting in the collection of the Louvre, after Leonardo’s portrait of a noblewoman who may or may not be smiling.

The painting has fascinated other artists; Van Gogh wrote of the beauty of its colors in a letter to Émile Bernard, and Renoir considered it the most beautiful painting in the world.

Even among Vermeer’s often small works, The Lacemaker is a small painting, 9 5/8 x 8 1/4 in (24.5 x 21 cm), and both its size and subject invite intimacy. As we observe the young woman, who is absorbed in her craft, we get to observe Vermeer working at his; the weave of the canvas is visible through his thin layers of paint; the delicate application with which he has modeled her hands and face and the extraordinarily deft suggestion of her materials fall together in a harmonious, seemingly perfect composition.

The woman’s hands, in particular, are exquisitely painted, simultaneously naturalistic and surprisingly abstracted, the planes of the fingers almost geometric shapes. The entire painting, in fact, is remarkable for its open, spare composition and intense focus.

Vermeer deliberately played with focus here, sharply defining the hands and the workpad (as sharp as Vermeer ever allows his soft edges to get) while reducing focus on the surrounding objects, even in the foreground.

And for those who point to Vermeer’s (and other artists’) use of the camera obscura as though it were a crutch that somehow diminished his artistry, I offer my challenge that no modern artist, armed with not only a camera obscura, but all manner of photography, projectors and computer assistance, is going to match the artistry of Vermeer in similar paintings.

As a case in point, one of the artists particularly fascinated with this painting was Salvador Dalí, whose father had a copy of The Lacemaker in his study as he was growing up.

In addition to doing his Dalífied Paranoiac-Critical Study of Vermeer’s Lacemaker, in which the image explodes into a shower of rhinoceros horns, in 1955 Dali acquired permission to take his paints into the Louvre and paint a direct copy from the original (which used to be a much more common practice among artists in centuries past).

Whatever you may think of Dalís art, few who have seen his work in person can deny that he was one of the most accomplished painters of the 20th century, with a keen eye and firm grasp of old master techniques. Yet Dalí, with all his skill, produces a copy that, while a nice little painting and well painted (I’ve had the pleasure of seeing the original), still falls well short of Vermeer’s mastery, and seems forced in comparison (image below, larger version here).

As for the original, there is a feature on the Louvre’s new website that allows you to zoom way in on a selection of highlights from the collection, one of which is The Lacemaker. Unfortunately, it requires Microsoft’s Silverlight plug-in, which is not as widely installed as Flash. Those who have, or install, the plug-in can scroll to the right to find the painting, and zoom way in, a view that is particularly effective in fullscreen mode.

I’ve listed other resources below.

I’m late in mentioning this, but not too late — until this Sunday, 15 January, 2012, The Lacemaker will still be on view in the UK as part of an extraordinary exhibition in which the Louvre has allowed it to be loaned to the Fitzwilliam Museum in Cambridge. The exhibition is titled Vermeer’s Women: Secrets and Silence, and features three other Vermeers as well as a number of other Dutch Golden Age masterpieces. There is an article about the exhibition on The Guardian. There is a catalog of the exhibition, Vermeer’s Women: Secrets and Silence.

Vermeer is one of my personal favorites in all of art, and in his finest works, of which The Lacemaker is surely one, seems to transcend painting into the realm of magic — presenting us with a frozen sheet of time, distilled by his genius into the essence of seeing. But for all his apparent sorcery, he was still a painter, applying paint to canvas with brushes, seeking to express the ineffable with physical materials.

The Lacemaker has a quiet intensity and focused perfection that makes me think Vermeer found in his subject a reflection on his own absorption in, and dedication to, his craft.

For anyone, artist or otherwise, who has experienced the Zen-like state in which work or action seems to flow through you, instead of being created by effort, I think The Lacemaker should resonate with that exquisite suspension of time and thought.

Arkhip Ivanovich Kuindzhi was a highly regarded Russian (Ukrainian) landscape painter and a member of the amazing group of Russian painters known as the Peredvizhniki (“Itinerants” or “Wanderers”, see my related posts).

Kuindzhi was noted for his unorthodox compositions and daring experiments with lighting effects, perhaps partly stemming from his limited formal training.

He grew up in a poor family, son of a Greek shoemaker, and lost his parents at an early age. He was largely self-taught, though he eventually attended the St. Petersburg Academy of Arts for a time. During his early years he was influenced by the Russian (Crimean) landscape artist Ivan Aivazovsky.

Kuindzhi’s compositions play with extreme positioning of the horizon, large, almost empty spaces, striking contrasts of light and dark, and experiments with brushwork and the application of color.

He sometimes revisited the same or similar scenes, altering the light and handling of color in subsequent compositions.

Italian artist Laura Fantini, who divides her time between Bologna, Italy and Brooklyn, NY, creates large scale images of intimate still life subjects.

Her compositions feature unassumingly simple objects like leaves, seed pods and flower blossoms, rendered in large sizes, perhaps 30×40 inches (74x98cm). Her subjects are observed with the precision of botanical art, but presented with a visual drama and freshness that pull them out of their normal context and present them to us as something to be viewed and considered anew.

She works primarily in colored pencil, a medium that seldom receives the respect warranted by the effects that can be achieved in the hands of an artist like Fantini. She procedes by working up layers and layers of intricate cosshatching, gradually building up her subtle areas of color.

There are photographs, though not descriptions, of her working process in the In Progress section of her website.

The major presentation of work on her website is in three sections but you will also find a gallery of cityscapes — works in gouache, ink pastel and colored pencil in a photorealist vein, as well as portraits and a section of sketches.

The use of colored pencil, like pastel, can blur the definitions of “drawing” and “painting”. Fantini’s finished works combine elements of both, but her sketches (images above, second from bottom) are firmly in the category of drawings, and have their own aesthetic and visual appeal.

Fantini also maintains a blog, with announcements of shows and images of work in progress.

Viktor Bykov is a Russian painter living in the general vicinity of Moscow. He studied at the Cheliabinsk Art College and the Stroganov Art and Design Institute in Moscow.

Outside of that I can find little information, at least in English.

Bykov paints landscapes in oil that walk an interesting line between naturalistic and invented color, at times playing with color combinations that threaten to fall into the range of treacle, but usually pulling back from that and managing to restrain them in interesting, somewhat unorthodox compositions.

Unfortunately, I can’t find a dedicated website for Bykov, though again, I may be limited in my inability to search effectively in Russian.

I don’t normally link to Facebook pages, but in this case, this page, evidently not maintained by the artist himself, is the best source I could find for his paintings.

There is a video slideshow of his work on YouTube.