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A Dalmatian Woman
A woman stands poised, her Dalmatian beside her. The contrast of dark spots against pale fabric mirrors the dog’s coat. There’s an unspoken bond in their shared gaze—quiet, knowing. The portrait lingers on that connection, leaving the rest unsaid.
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Woman And Roses (1879)
A woman in a flowing gown stands surrounded by roses, their petals spilling over her arms. The soft folds of her dress mirror the delicate blooms, as if she’s become part of the garden itself. Light catches the silk and velvet, blending her elegance with the flowers’ quiet riot of color.
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Ladies in the Shade Abriès (1912)
Two women rest in dappled sunlight, their white dresses glowing against the deep shadows. Loose brushstrokes suggest a breeze rustling through the trees overhead. The scene hums with quiet warmth—a fleeting afternoon pause.
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A Female Figure In A Landscape
A lone woman stands amid rolling hills, her flowing gown echoing the soft curves of the land. The scene holds a quiet tension—her distant gaze suggests a story untold, while the muted colors wrap the moment in hushed mystery.
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Luise Eisner, spätere Fürstin Odescalchi (1926)
Luise Eisner gazes past the viewer, her poised elegance hinting at a world beyond the frame. The soft drape of her gown contrasts with the sharp intelligence in her eyes—a woman caught between who she was and the title she would inherit.
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Béatrice (1897)
A woman’s face emerges from the shadows, her gaze distant yet piercing. Soft hues blur into darkness, as if she’s caught between dream and waking. The portrait lingers—not quite real, not entirely imagined.
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Stella (1900)
A woman gazes into the distance, her dark hair cascading over a flowing white gown. The soft glow of candlelight catches the delicate lace at her sleeves, hinting at quiet longing. Her lips part slightly, as if pausing mid-breath—caught between thought and speech.
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Woman with a Rake (1856–57)
A woman pauses mid-motion, rake in hand, her sturdy frame silhouetted against the earth. The weight of labor lingers in her bent posture, yet there’s quiet determination in her grip. No idyllic countryside—just raw, unadorned toil. The field stretches ahead, endless under her calloused palms.
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Melody
A woman sits absorbed in her music, fingers poised over the strings. The soft drape of her gown echoes the curve of the instrument, blending movement with stillness. Light catches the edge of her profile, leaving the rest in quiet shadow—a moment suspended between note and silence.