Nuns in the Fish Market in the Campo de' Fiori, Rome 1996. One of the things we poor post-Brexit and post- (or not so post) Covid Brits miss most is markets in French or Italian towns. In fact we dream of heaps of chanterelles, of herbs, of fennel, and of fish indeed. Of course we are grateful to have food at all and try madly to count our blessings. But still, a little bit of longing is in order, quietly. The thing to do is to have a David Gentleman painting hanging on the wall and by looking at it carefully and intently one can be transported into the picture.

The Grand Canal with Barges, Venice 1996. The very word Venice makes one's heart turn over. When, oh when, might we go there? But David Gentleman's paintings are the next best thing.

'Walls of Urbino, Marche' 1958. Many people go specially to Urbino to see this Piero della Francesca, but David Gentleman makes one see that it's worth going for the spectacular beauty of the town itself. When we can go.

The exhibition of David Gentleman's paintings, called 'On Location' and featuring his work over fifty years, closed yesterday so it can only be viewed online here. This week on the Post, as a way of narrowing the collection down – because all the paintings are so wonderful it's impossible to highlight one over another – we shall focus on Italy, partly because most of us have not been to Italy, or in fact anywhere, for nearly two years, indeed the thought of going casually there is still an impossible dream. This is the Forum in Rome, painted in 1996.

In the overview of the exhibition in the Financial Times Jackie Wullschlager concludes: 'The Marmottan excavates stories that triply fascinate: a fresh approach to the imaginative processes of dead white male genius; a consideration of women's negotiations with cultural and social structures; and the psychological truth of how human relationships fuelled revolutions in modern painting and poetry.' Very well put, especially the mature attitude to our great-grandmothers' negotiation of social structures eg. devoting themselves to the male genius. There are several books about this, most of them resentful that women had to do it. But actually Julie and Jeanne were not resentful. Here are (from left to right) Paule Gobillard, Jeannie Gobillard, Julie Manet, and Geneviève Mallarmé in 1895, the year Berthe Morisot died, the photograph is at the Met.

Julie herself painted. This (undated but possibly late 1940s) portrait of a friend was unseen, ie. it hung privately on someone's wall, until this year when it came to light. Here is the story of its discovery. Portrait of Madeleine Gouaillardeu  by Julie Manet © Chantal Sagouspe / Claudine Mariscottiis is in the Marmottan exhibition.

Ernest Rouart, Julie Manet, Paul Valéry and Jeannie Gobillard photographed on the day of their double wedding in May 1900 © Musée Marmottan Monet