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Interiør med et rødt sjal (1913)
A red shawl drapes over a chair, its folds catching the light in a quiet room. Shadows pool around the edges, softening the edges of furniture. The fabric’s warmth hums against the muted tones, an invitation to pause—just for a moment—before stepping back into the stillness.
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A Lady Playing the Piano
A woman sits at the piano, fingers resting lightly on the keys. The room is hushed, sunlight filtering through sheer curtains. The air holds the quiet tension of a melody about to begin.
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Sitges Interior (circa 1894)
Sunlight slants across worn floorboards, pooling around a single chair. The walls breathe with faded warmth, shadows clinging to corners. A stillness hangs in the air—not empty, but waiting. Somewhere beyond the frame, sea salt lingers on a breeze.
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Alice Gamby dans le salon (1890)
A woman sits in a sunlit room, her posture relaxed yet poised. The brushstrokes blur the edges of her dress and the furnishings, as if the air itself hums with quiet energy. Light spills across the floor, dissolving details into warmth—a fleeting, intimate moment held in soft focus.
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Interior with the Chimera Playing the Guitar (1908)
A chimera lounges in shadowed lamplight, plucking guitar strings with clawed fingers. The creature’s mismatched eyes gleam against the dim interior, half-smiling at some private melody. Wooden floorboards creak under its coiled tail. No human ears hear this music—only the walls, the furniture, the gathering dark.
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Victorian Interior I (1945)
A dimly lit Victorian room, heavy with patterned wallpaper and ornate furniture. Shadows pool in the corners, but a single lamp casts a warm glow over a vacant armchair—as if someone just stepped away. The air feels still, thick with the weight of unspoken stories.
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Interiør med læsende kvinde ved vinduet
A woman sits by the window, absorbed in her book. Sunlight spills across the floor, casting soft shadows on the quiet interior. The stillness of the room contrasts with the unseen world beyond the glass—a moment suspended between solitude and the faint promise of something outside.
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The Geographer (1669)
A man leans over a map, bathed in soft light. His compass hovers above the parchment, frozen mid-measurement. The room hums with quiet concentration—globes, books, and scattered charts surround him. He’s not just studying the world; he’s trying to grasp its shape.
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The Bookworm (circa 1851)
A hunched figure perches precariously on a ladder, utterly absorbed in his book. Towering shelves crammed with volumes surround him, their spines glowing in warm lamplight. One slippered foot dangles absentmindedly as he leans deeper into the pages, oblivious to the world beyond his literary cocoon.