Post-Impressionism Art Collection | Perfect for Wall Art, Prints

Rose with a basket (1922)

Tadeusz Makowski (Polish, 1882–1932)

A single rose rests in a woven basket, its petals soft against the rough texture. The play of light and shadow gives depth to the simple arrangement, turning everyday objects into something quietly striking. There’s warmth in the muted tones, as if the scene holds a secret just beneath the surface.
L’été, scène champêtre (1905-1907)

Henri Martin (French, 1860–1943)

Dappled sunlight filters through the trees, casting golden patches on the grass. A lazy summer afternoon unfolds—figures rest in the shade, their forms dissolving into brushstrokes of vibrant color. The air hums with warmth, the scene pulsing with the rhythm of light and shadow.
Café table with absinth (1887)

Vincent van Gogh (Dutch, 1853–1890)

A green glass glows on the café table, its liquid catching the light. The absinthe sits untouched, waiting. Shadows pool around it, deepening the quiet tension between indulgence and restraint. The air feels thick with possibility—one sip away from slipping into another world.
Saint Francis of Assisi

Henri Martin (French, 1860–1943)

A humble figure kneels in golden light, robes pooling around him. The brushstrokes blur the boundary between man and nature, as if the very air shimmers with devotion. This Francis seems to dissolve into the landscape, becoming one with the world he loved.
White Farmhouse (Bunyola, Majorca) (1902)

Santiago Rusiñol (Spanish, 1861–1931)

Sunlight bleaches the farmhouse walls, stark against Majorca’s rugged hills. Brushstrokes blur the line between stone and earth, as if the building might dissolve back into the landscape. A quiet tension lingers—human presence suggested, but never seen. The heat feels heavy, the air still.
Pejzaż z domem i drobiem (1921)

Tadeusz Makowski (Polish, 1882–1932)

A rustic house stands firm against the wind, its slanted roof sheltering a scatter of chickens pecking at the dirt. The landscape bends around it—fields, fences, and a sky heavy with motion. Every brushstroke feels alive, as if the scene might shift the moment you look away.
Small pear tree in blossom (1888)

Vincent van Gogh (Dutch, 1853–1890)

Delicate white blossoms burst from twisted branches, their petals trembling against a sky of restless brushstrokes. The pear tree stands alone, its fleeting spring glory painted with thick, urgent daubs of color. Even the earth seems to pulse with life beneath it.
Lilas Mauve Dans Un Vase De Terre Jaune Et Vert (1930)

Pierre Bonnard (French, 1867–1947)

Lilacs burst from the earthen vase, their purple clusters spilling over the rim. The yellow-green vessel glows against muted shadows, holding the wild bouquet in imperfect balance. Brushstrokes blur the line between flowers and air—as if scent itself had color.
Pont-Aven (1922)

Gustave Loiseau (French, 1865–1935)

A quiet French village emerges in loose, textured brushstrokes—soft greens and muted blues blurring rooftops into the landscape. The air feels damp, the light diffuse. Something lingers in the way the trees lean slightly, as if caught mid-sway by an unseen breeze.