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Madonna of Humility, The Blessing Christ, Two Angels, and a Donor (obverse) (c. 1380-1390)
A golden-haloed Madonna sits low on the ground, cradling her child as two angels hover above. The infant Christ raises his hand in blessing over a kneeling donor, their quiet devotion framed by rich blues and intricate gold leaf. The scene hums with quiet reverence, earthly and divine meeting in tender proximity.
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Madonna Mit Jesus Umgeben Von Kindern (1896)
A golden glow surrounds the Madonna as she cradles Jesus, children pressing close in quiet devotion. Their faces tilt upward, bathed in soft light, each gaze fixed on the infant. The scene hums with quiet reverence, a moment suspended between earthly tenderness and divine grace.
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The Annunciation (1828)
A golden light spills through the window as the angel kneels, wings still trembling from flight. Mary’s hands hover between surprise and acceptance, the air thick with unspoken prophecy. The moment hangs suspended—divine interruption in an ordinary room.
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La Vierge aux anges (1900)
A luminous Virgin Mary cradles the infant Christ, surrounded by adoring angels. Their golden wings shimmer as they lean in, faces alight with reverence. The scene glows with divine warmth, every brushstroke heightening the celestial tenderness between mother and child.
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Madonna with child and John the Baptist (1875)
The Madonna cradles her child as young John the Baptist looks on, their figures bathed in soft light. The tender moment blends divine grace with earthly warmth, the folds of fabric and gentle expressions creating an intimate scene of devotion. A quiet reverence lingers in the composition.
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Madonna and Child with Young Saint John the Baptist
The Virgin cradles the Christ child as young John the Baptist looks on, his reed cross foreshadowing destiny. Golden light bathes their faces, halos glowing against the Tuscan hills. A tender moment, yet weighted with prophecy—the Baptist’s gaze already fixed on his sacred role.
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The Three Marys
Three women stand close, draped in flowing robes. Their faces hold quiet sorrow, eyes downcast. The folds of fabric catch soft light as they gather near an unseen grave. A hush lingers between them, heavy with loss and something unspoken. The air feels still, waiting.

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