Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister

Listen for a moment. Footsteps soften on the old floors. Voices drop to a murmur. Light falls from high above and settles on gilded frames, and on walls covered in deep, saturated colour. You are inside a building made for one purpose: to let paintings be seen. This is the Gemäldegalerie Alte Meister, the Old Masters Picture Gallery of Dresden, and for many travellers it is the main reason to come to this city.

The gallery sits in the Semperbau, the long building that closes off one side of the Zwinger. The Zwinger itself is an early eighteenth century Baroque palace complex, a stage set of pavilions and galleries around a large courtyard. For decades one side stayed open, facing the river. Then, in the middle of the nineteenth century, the architect Gottfried Semper filled the gap with this picture gallery. It opened in 1855. Semper also designed the opera house you can see across the square outside.

The paintings are older than the building. Most of them were gathered by two rulers of Saxony in the eighteenth century — Augustus the Strong and his son, Augustus the Third. Both men were Electors of Saxony, one of the princes who chose the Holy Roman Emperor, and both also became Kings of Poland. Their ambitions were enormous. They wanted Dresden to rival Paris and Vienna, and they bought art from across Europe to prove it.

One purchase stands above all the rest. In 1754, after long negotiations, Augustus the Third acquired a large altarpiece by Raphael from a monastery church in Piacenza, in northern Italy. It is the Sistine Madonna. The name comes from Saint Sixtus, who kneels on the left side of the canvas. Saint Barbara kneels on the right. Between them, the Virgin Mary steps forward on clouds, holding the Christ child, as green curtains pull back on either side.

Now look down to the bottom edge of the painting. Two small winged angels lean on a ledge, chins in their hands, looking up with bored, dreamy faces. Here is a surprise. Many people know these two cherubs from posters, mugs, and greeting cards, without knowing where they come from. In the painting they are only a tiny detail. Over the last century they have become far more famous than the saints above them.

The Italian collection continues around this room. Look for the Sleeping Venus by Giorgione, a Venetian painter of the early sixteenth century. The goddess lies asleep in an open landscape. Giorgione died young, and art historians generally agree that Titian finished parts of the picture, most likely the landscape. Nearby, you may find Correggio's Holy Night, where the light seems to come from the newborn child himself, glowing out across the faces around him.

The Dutch and Flemish rooms change the mood completely. Here the scale is smaller, the subjects more domestic. You will find Rembrandt, Rubens, and Van Dyck. Among the Rembrandts is a self-portrait with his wife, Saskia, sitting on his lap. He turns toward us and raises a tall glass. It is a cheerful, slightly showy picture, made by a young man enjoying his success.

The gallery also holds two paintings by Johannes Vermeer. One is The Procuress, an early, lively tavern scene. The other is Girl Reading a Letter at an Open Window. A young woman stands in profile, reading, while daylight falls through the window onto her face and the rumpled rug on the table. For a long time, the wall behind her looked plain and empty.

Then came the second surprise. During a major restoration, conservators confirmed that the bare wall was not Vermeer's choice. Someone had painted over it after the artist's death. When they removed the later layer, a large painting of Cupid, the god of love, appeared on the wall behind the girl. The restored picture went back on display in 2021. Suddenly, the letter she holds seems to carry a clear message about love.

Keep walking, and look for a quieter treasure: The Chocolate Girl by the Swiss artist Jean-Étienne Liotard. A young servant carries a tray with a cup of chocolate and a glass of water. The picture is made in pastel, which is powdered colour on parchment, and it is very fragile. Look at the glass. The reflection of a window is drawn inside the water with a few careful strokes.

Do not miss the large views of Dresden by Bernardo Bellotto, an Italian painter who called himself Canaletto, like his famous uncle. Bellotto worked as a court painter here and recorded the city in great detail. His canvases show the river, the bridges, and the church domes in clear, cool light. After the destruction of 1945, these paintings became more than art. They helped people remember what the city had looked like.

The collection itself almost disappeared. During the Second World War, the paintings were moved out of the city and stored in places such as tunnels and quarries. After the war, Soviet forces took most of them to Moscow. In the mid-1950s, the Soviet Union returned the collection to Dresden. In 2020, the Semperbau reopened after a long renovation, and the rooms again show the paintings against strong, rich wall colours.

Before you leave, stand still for a moment. Look at the faces around you — the visitors, not the portraits. Some lean in close. Others step back to see a whole canvas at once. When you go out, cross into the Zwinger courtyard and look back at Semper's building. Behind those windows, many centuries of painted light are still waiting for the next visitor.