Titian’s monumental painting, Tarquin and Lucretia, hangs prominently in the Fitzwilliam Museum, its enormous figures towering over visitors. One of the artist’s latest completed works, it depicts the unsettling climax of the story of Lucretia as told by the Roman historian Livy: Lucretia, the faithful wife of a nobleman, is threatened with death by Sextus Tarquinius, a Roman prince, if she doesn’t allow him to rape her. Titian expertly represents the moment where Lucretia seems to be giving into her fate, cowering under the knife held high above her, glittering against the curtain.

This painting expertly exemplifies Titian’s late style; he himself described it as "of much greater labour and ingenuity than any I have produced for many years." Loose, yet precise brushwork applied in countless layers creates beautiful, almost tangible forms. Rich textures develop, from the silky bed linen to Lucretia’s shimmering jewellery, or her pale, sensuous flesh – much like that of the goddess Venus in Titian’s other painting, hanging opposite.

Titian was known for his mastery of colour, helped by his work in Venice, a commercial centre for the trade of pigments and artists’ materials. The dramatic and varied use of bright reds throughout Tarquin’s garments reflects both his violence and lust. Unadulterated whites theatrically illuminate the scene, drawing attention to Lucretia’s naked, vulnerable body and panic-stricken face, down which a few lone tears roll.

The angular composition, the dramatic lighting, the crazed, complex brushwork: it all comes together to create a piece of art that is, in equal measures, beautiful and terrifying.