They were originally high up on an altar, so their congregants would never have experienced our intimate gallery view. Catherine, serene and composed, is the patron of scholars and maidens, a whisperer to Joan of Arc. The Baptist is the wild, anguished voice crying in the wilderness, rallying crowds to prepare the way for the Messiah. They lived centuries apart, but they look—heretically, perhaps—like a pair of lovers, ancient old souls who have been through the wars. They’ve both seen it all, endured it all, and they catch each other’s eyes with focused intensity, heedless of our observation.

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