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Ophelia (1870)
A young woman floats among scattered flowers, her gown billowing in the water’s embrace. Pale petals cling to damp fabric as the current carries her—not struggling, but surrendered. The scene holds both beauty and sorrow, like a lullaby sung to someone already gone.
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Still Life with Daffodils (ca. 1885–95)
Sunlight spills across the table, catching the daffodils’ yellow petals. They tilt in their vase, stems bending slightly under their own weight. The brushstrokes blur the edges, as if the flowers might dissolve into the air. A quiet tension—between freshness and decay, between bloom and wilt.
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Spring blooms
Sunlight spills over a country lane, warming clusters of wildflowers. A woman in a straw hat bends to gather blossoms, her skirt brushing the fresh grass. The air hums with bees among the petals, and the path curves away into dappled shade. Spring’s quiet abundance unfolds here.
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Bouquet in a Chinese Vase (ca. 1912–14)
Vibrant blooms burst from the porcelain vase, their petals brushing against its delicate blue patterns. The flowers seem to pulse with life against the dark background, as if caught between dream and reality. That Chinese vase anchors them—an unexpected harmony of East and West in a single, luminous arrangement.
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Flowers in a flower-vase (1909)
A simple vase overflows with blooms, their petals thick with paint, almost sculptural. The colors hum against a muted background—not delicate, but alive. This isn’t a polite still life; it’s flowers with weight, presence. You can almost feel the stems bending under their own vitality.
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Back View Of A Young Woman In Profile With A Bouquet Of Roses In Her Hands
A young woman turns away, her profile softened by the glow of roses cradled in her hands. The flowers spill over, petals brushing her sleeves, their deep reds whispering against the quiet backdrop. She doesn’t face us—only the curve of her neck, the tilt of her head, as if listening to something just out of sight.
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Roses (1890)
Thick brushstrokes twist across the canvas—pink petals unfurl against a sea of green. The roses seem to tremble, caught between bloom and decay. That tension thrums through every stroke, where vitality and fragility collide in a riot of color.
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Printemps (before 1892)
A young woman cradles a bouquet of fresh blooms, her gaze soft and distant. Delicate petals spill over her hands, their vibrant hues contrasting with the muted folds of her dress. Spring lingers in the air, caught between her fingers and the quiet turn of her thoughts.