This is one of the most important paintings in the collections of the Palazzo Reale in Genoa, although one not yet admired by the public because of its historical and presently maintained location in an area not yet open for general use. This area, however, is currently undergoing restoration work which will allow these rooms to be included in the museum’s itinerary.

It is considered to be one of the most renowned self-portraits of this leading figure of the Baroque, justifiably described by critics as “the Bernini of painting”. Giovanni Battista Gaulli, known as il Baciccio, Genoese by birth but Roman by adoption, did in fact work on several occasions with the celebrated sculptor in the Italian capital. More than his other self-portraits, this particular example portrays a vivid immediacy, due to its framing and pose, as well as the light touch of the brushwork.

The painting is first recorded in a contract of sale for 31 paintings and 6 sculptures purchased by Gerolamo Ignazio Durazzo (1676-1747), the Palazzo's then owner, from painter Domenico Parodi. It is extremely interesting, therefore, to be able to trace the previous ownership of the Self-portrait to a Genoese painter, on whose death at the end of November 1742 it was put up for sale.
Along with this painting, Parodi had kept not just 22 of his own paintings at his home, but also copies from Bassano, Titian, Veronese and Guido Reni, four landscapes of the Flemish school, two paintings attributed to Domenico Piola, one by Domenico Fiasella, and the self-portrait, Ritratto di Gio. Batta Gaulli fatto da lui proprio di palmi 3 (Portrait of Gio. Batta Gaulli made by himself of 3 spans).

Following their purchase by the marquis Durazzo, some of these works were placed in one of the finest spaces of the first piano nobile of the Palazzo Reale in Genoa, the Salotto degli Stucchi Verdi (Green Stuccoes Hall), with the necessary adjustments in size in this case an enlargement.

Over time, the identity of the subject and its author were lost: the Savoy inventories of the 19th century identify it broadly as a “portrait” or “portrait of a knight”. Its recognition is owing to the studies of Luca Leoncini and is in recent history (2001).

St. Lawrence, one of the patron saints of Genoa, is portrayed with great realism in the act of giving alms to the poor, the cause of his sentence to die upon a gridiron. On the left is Lawrence, his youthful face just visible in the darkness enveloping the scene. The light strikes him from behind, highlighting the wide red satin sleeve of his dalmatic, his open hand resting on the table, his delicate neck, his reddened ear, his halo. In front of the saint there is a group of beggars: an old man with a white beard grasping the chain of a censer, a woman standing with a staff, a second figure next to her brandishing a crutch, and a girl looking up at Lawrence with her hands together. All are dressed in humble garments but their poses and traits have human composure and dignity. Liturgical items rest on the table in the foreground. The artist has placed the light source to the observer’s left, beyond the field of vision: it strikes the figures harshly, like a spotlight in the dark, producing metallic gleams.

Proserpine, daughter of Zeus and Demeter, was picking flowers with her companions in the meadows of Nisa, Sicily. Suddenly Pluto, son of Cronus, appeared: Eros’ arrows had made him fall in love, prompting him to abduct the maiden, carrying her off in his chariot to the underworld, where he intended to marry her. In the centre of the painting, Pluto grasps the young goddess around the waist as she, attempting to free herself from his powerful grip, raises her right arm. The abductor, draped in red and white cloth from which his muscular torso and right leg emerge, has a crown on his head and a full beard.

The maiden is wrapped in a blue cloth and a light silk shirt which leaves her breasts almost entirely exposed. Both are being transported by a golden chariot pulled by two horses, who seem to be about to plunge into a fiery chasm on the far right of the painting. The scene takes place in a glade and there are four watching maidens, two sitting in the foreground and two on the left beneath the branches of a tree.

These two paintings formerly belonged to the collection of the Durazzo family, for whom, according to historic records, Bartolomeo Guidobono made several works, for both their city and country residences. Indeed, the palazzo in Via Balbi also houses an Apollo pastore (Apollo as Shepherd) and a Diana ed Endimione (Diana and Endymion) by the same artist. Bacchus and Ceres refer to autumn and summer and were probably originally part of a group of four paintings depicting the seasons. The artist seems to want to involve the observer in the mysterious dynamic of the two compositions in a studied interplay of inviting gestures, glances and smiles. The paintings are marked out by a softness of the paint, by the light picking out the figures against an indistinct background, and by a harmony of colour, all highly representative features of the Savona painter’s style.

This event is the opening episode of the second canto of Jerusalem Delivered: in order to save the Christians of Jerusalem, the innocent Sophronia accuses herself of having stolen from the mosque a sacred icon – clearly shown by the angels in the heavens –and for this she is condemned to burn at the stake. Olindo, secretly in love with her, accuses himself of the crime and is condemned to death alongside her. Clorinda, however, in “uncouth arms yclad and strange disguise/from countries far”, saves their lives. Moved by pity, she offers her support to the king in the war against the crusaders in exchange for the young pair’s freedom. Like The Struggle between Perseus and Phineus, this majestic painting is also of the finest, most sumptuous quality: the brush moves with ease from silvered whites to the palest of pinks, from cadmium yellows to opulent, velvety purples, skilfully bestowing a highly effective lighting composition on the whole.

This large painting portrays a crucial episode in the myth of Perseus, son of Zeus and Danae, told in the fifth book of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, in which he saves his bride Andromeda. She had been first promised to Phineus who, to avenge his rejection, burst into the wedding banquet with a group of warriors. Perseus, depicted on the right of the scene, defends himself against the attack by holding up the head of the Gorgon Medusa, whose gaze turns the enemies into stone. In front of him is Phineus, attempting to defend himself with his shield. At his feet are some of his fallen followers, and in the background the guests cover their eyes to avoid the same fate. Luca Giordano’s imposing composition, signed bottom left, is filled with spectacular contrivances and theatrical effects, such as the two columns at the centre of the scene around which is wound a dark red cloth, dividing the scene.

This work of tragic grandeur depicts Christ on the cross against a livid sky, emphasising the desolate solitude of the ordeal of his execution and death. A cold light strikes his nude body and the ample cloth wrapped elaborately around his waist, twisting as if blown by the wind. He is still alive, his suffering, blood-streaked face turned to the sky.

Blood also pours from the wounds at his wrists and feet. Light flares around his head, crowned with thorns. In the sky can be seen the solar eclipse described by Luke in his Gospel.

The barren, rocky landscape around the cross, disappearing into the darkness of the background, expresses the dramatic dimension where the sorrowful emotion of Christ echoes.

The painting was purchased by Carlo Felice in 1821. Its attribution to the Flemish artist has never been doubted; on the contrary, some critics believe it to be the only surviving authentic crucifixion of Van Dyck’s Italian period.

The depicted woman is at the centre of the painting, her piercingly intense face in three-quarter profile, facing the observer with a confident gaze. A red rose to the side of her face accentuates her pale complexion. Her right hand is resting on the basin of a Baroque fountain supported by a merman. Her left hand, resting by her side, holds a closed fan. The sumptuous gown enveloping her figure is part of a complex Spanish-style dress, and her hair is pulled back and gathered in a chignon, around which is wrapped a diamond tiara and a bunch of black feathers. The woman is Caterina Balbi Durazzo, painted by a twenty-five year old Van Dyck, skilled at bringing out the inner character of the person portrayed, proving himself to have fully absorbed the teachings of his master Rubens: the lady retains, alongside the marks of aristocracy, a certain fresh, youthful tenderness. The portrait came to the Palazzo in 1689 and has been at the Via Balbi residence ever since.

Painted between 1532 and 1535 for the chapel of San Gerolamo in the Genoa church of San Domenico, the altarpiece originally included a predella with four Mysteries of the Passion and was enclosed in a lavish architectural frame of carved gilded wood. The work shows a consideration of the Flemish works present in the city, particularly the “Deposition” painted by Jos Van Cleve for the church of Santa Maria della Pace, now at the Louvre, and a knowledge of the new approaches in 16th-century painting which had recently reached Genova.

The painting by Gaston Roullet, a French painter who died in Paris in 1925, is the introduction to the room dedicated to the collection of the  ship owner Paolo Clerici. Over 100 paintings all with a maritime subject, in which it is possible to see a common thread: human labour, be it that of fishermen, as is the case of this painting by Roullet, or that of the crew of the cargo steamships, the large ocean liners or the ships of war. Stevedores, moorers, crane operators, carters, those "people of the docks" who crowd the numerous images of European ports that visitors can admire.