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Latest Posts by Dr. Sabine Metzger 🦇

Weihnachtsbaum mit Kugeln und Lichtern

Weihnachtsbaum mit Kugeln und Lichtern

Frohe Weihnachten 🎄 🎄 🎄

3 months ago 8 2 2 0
Schnee auf Feld mit Bäumen im Hintergrund

Schnee auf Feld mit Bäumen im Hintergrund

#Schnee

2 months ago 8 1 0 0
Herzförmige Reifenspuren im Schnee

Herzförmige Reifenspuren im Schnee

#Schnee

2 months ago 11 2 0 0
Morgenröte mit Wiese und Bäumen

Morgenröte mit Wiese und Bäumen

Guten Morgen!

3 weeks ago 9 1 1 0

Sollen Sex-Fakes erlaubt sein, solange sie gekennzeichnet sind? Der Entwurf von Ministerin Hubig geht genau in diese Richtung, weil sie auf einen "Anschein" abstellt, der aber durch Sticker/Caption/Watermark ausgeräumt werden könnte. Das reicht nicht.

2 weeks ago 1393 325 82 28

Der Mond hat absolut nicht verdient, dass er schon wieder von Menschen belästigt wird.

6 days ago 59 12 4 0
2 Getränke auf einem Tisch vor einer Bar

2 Getränke auf einem Tisch vor einer Bar

#Parlament #Hamburg

5 days ago 5 2 0 0
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1 hour ago 4 4 0 0
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Gli ucraini celebrano l’arrivo della primavera liberando in aria i pipistrelli, salvati dalla guerra | MR IT

🦇🇺🇦 #BatsUkraine
Proud to be a supporter of @batsukraine.bsky.social! Interview with Alona Pryslutska, bat biologist and co-founder of Ukraine's iconic bat conservation organisation
mariellaromano.it/tecnologia/g...

1 hour ago 3 1 0 0
Eine Kirschblüte am Zweig

Eine Kirschblüte am Zweig

#Frühling

2 hours ago 7 3 0 0
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Good morning you all ☕️☕️, wishing you all a lovely Wednesday 🌸🩷

5 hours ago 28 6 2 0
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The girl at the window | Suzanne Valadon

1 day ago 55 10 0 0
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Red & Orange | Mark Rothko

1 day ago 16 3 1 0
A tiny girl with flat-parted hair. Her hands are folded into fists. She is wearing a knitted woollen dress.

A tiny girl with flat-parted hair. Her hands are folded into fists. She is wearing a knitted woollen dress.

8 April 1940 | A French Jewish girl, Jacqueline Benguigui, was born in #Paris.

She arrived at #Auschwitz on 25 June 1943 in a transport of 1,018 Jews deported from Drancy. She was among 418 people murdered in a gas chamber after the selection.

5 hours ago 384 101 15 11
A photo of a young girl sitting in a chair - photographed from above. Her curly hair is tied with a band with a ribbon.

A photo of a young girl sitting in a chair - photographed from above. Her curly hair is tied with a band with a ribbon.

8 April 1935 | Dutch Jewish girl, Binja Matz, was born at The Hague.

She was deported to #Auschwitz from #Westerbork in October 1942 and was murdered in a gas chamber after arrival selection.
---

▶ Video about the first gas chambers created near Auschwitz II-Birkenau: https://youtu.be/Rr6lF75fDmU

8 hours ago 391 101 12 6
The title is direct and documentary, almost journalistic. It names both the workplace and the city, insisting that this labor matters and belongs to the visible life of Cincinnati. American artist Caroline Augusta Lord was herself a Cincinnati artist, internationally trained in Paris and New York yet deeply attentive to ordinary local subjects. By 1911, she was an established painter and longtime teacher at the Art Academy of Cincinnati, and her series on Acme Laundry shows her turning serious artistic skill toward women’s paid work.

A large industrial laundry room opens across the canvas, crowded with women at work. In the foreground, several figures are turned away from us, their backs broad under white aprons tied over long dark skirts and pale blouses. Beyond them, more women stand in rows at tables and machines, sorting, folding, pressing, or handling linens. The room feels busy but ordered as belts, wheels, work surfaces, and stacks of cloth create a rhythm of labor that pulls us deep into the space. Lord paints the collective effort. The women appear adult, white, and working class, dressed practically for early 20th-century wage labor. Their sleeves are rolled and their postures bent while a few visible faces show concentration. The atmosphere is bright yet strenuous, with steam-white fabric and aprons standing out.

Rather than presenting domestic laundry in the home, she records laundry as industry: repetitive, physical, underpaid, and essential. The painting’s meaning lives in that tension between order and exhaustion, anonymity and solidarity. These workers are not romanticized, but neither are they diminished. Lord gives them scale, structure, and dignity. The composition has the balance of a history painting, yet its subject is everyday labor by women whose work was often overlooked. In that way, the canvas quietly argues that modern working women deserved the same artistic attention traditionally reserved for elites, myths, or men in public life.

The title is direct and documentary, almost journalistic. It names both the workplace and the city, insisting that this labor matters and belongs to the visible life of Cincinnati. American artist Caroline Augusta Lord was herself a Cincinnati artist, internationally trained in Paris and New York yet deeply attentive to ordinary local subjects. By 1911, she was an established painter and longtime teacher at the Art Academy of Cincinnati, and her series on Acme Laundry shows her turning serious artistic skill toward women’s paid work. A large industrial laundry room opens across the canvas, crowded with women at work. In the foreground, several figures are turned away from us, their backs broad under white aprons tied over long dark skirts and pale blouses. Beyond them, more women stand in rows at tables and machines, sorting, folding, pressing, or handling linens. The room feels busy but ordered as belts, wheels, work surfaces, and stacks of cloth create a rhythm of labor that pulls us deep into the space. Lord paints the collective effort. The women appear adult, white, and working class, dressed practically for early 20th-century wage labor. Their sleeves are rolled and their postures bent while a few visible faces show concentration. The atmosphere is bright yet strenuous, with steam-white fabric and aprons standing out. Rather than presenting domestic laundry in the home, she records laundry as industry: repetitive, physical, underpaid, and essential. The painting’s meaning lives in that tension between order and exhaustion, anonymity and solidarity. These workers are not romanticized, but neither are they diminished. Lord gives them scale, structure, and dignity. The composition has the balance of a history painting, yet its subject is everyday labor by women whose work was often overlooked. In that way, the canvas quietly argues that modern working women deserved the same artistic attention traditionally reserved for elites, myths, or men in public life.

"Acme Laundry in Cincinnati" by Caroline Augusta Lord (American) - Oil on canvas / 1911 - Canton Museum of Art (Canton, Ohio) #WomenInArt #WomensArt #WomanArtist #WomenArtists #CarolineAugustaLord #CantonMuseumOfArt #art #artText #laundry #AmericanArt #SocialRealism #WomenPaintingWomen #1910sArt

5 days ago 43 6 1 1
The painting’s impact lies in its political and familial messaging. If the central identification is correct, Maria Kazimiera (queen consort of Jan III Sobieski) and Teresa Kunegunda are presented not simply as relatives, but as visible carriers of lineage, diplomacy, and prestige.

A group of aristocratic women fills the canvas in a carefully staged outdoor court scene. At the center are two high-ranking female figures, identified in museum documentation as Maria Kazimiera Sobieska and her daughter Teresa, surrounded by elegantly dressed ladies of the court. Their gowns spread in soft, luminous folds across the foreground, with satin, ribbons, curls, and flowers creating a surface of luxury and ceremonial polish. This is a portrait of status, dynastic visibility, and social order. The figures appear pale-skinned and richly adorned, their bodies constrained by court dress and posture. The setting, though garden-like, functions less as a natural landscape than as a theatrical backdrop for rank, femininity, and presence. The composition invites us to view the women both as individuals and as members of a larger courtly circle.

In Baroque court culture, female portraiture often worked as a language of alliance with beauty, refinement, fertility, and decorum all supported public narratives about legitimacy and power. The gathered attendants expand that message, turning the image into a broader statement about the world of the royal household and the culture of ceremony around elite women. The attribution remains cautious, and that caution matters. Rather than a securely autographed work by Henri Gascar, the painting is better understood as a French-associated court portrait from his orbit or possible authorship. That uncertainty does not weaken the work. Instead, it highlights how images like this circulated through workshops, courts, and collections, preserving an idealized vision of queenship, daughterhood, and noble female community in the late 17th century.

The painting’s impact lies in its political and familial messaging. If the central identification is correct, Maria Kazimiera (queen consort of Jan III Sobieski) and Teresa Kunegunda are presented not simply as relatives, but as visible carriers of lineage, diplomacy, and prestige. A group of aristocratic women fills the canvas in a carefully staged outdoor court scene. At the center are two high-ranking female figures, identified in museum documentation as Maria Kazimiera Sobieska and her daughter Teresa, surrounded by elegantly dressed ladies of the court. Their gowns spread in soft, luminous folds across the foreground, with satin, ribbons, curls, and flowers creating a surface of luxury and ceremonial polish. This is a portrait of status, dynastic visibility, and social order. The figures appear pale-skinned and richly adorned, their bodies constrained by court dress and posture. The setting, though garden-like, functions less as a natural landscape than as a theatrical backdrop for rank, femininity, and presence. The composition invites us to view the women both as individuals and as members of a larger courtly circle. In Baroque court culture, female portraiture often worked as a language of alliance with beauty, refinement, fertility, and decorum all supported public narratives about legitimacy and power. The gathered attendants expand that message, turning the image into a broader statement about the world of the royal household and the culture of ceremony around elite women. The attribution remains cautious, and that caution matters. Rather than a securely autographed work by Henri Gascar, the painting is better understood as a French-associated court portrait from his orbit or possible authorship. That uncertainty does not weaken the work. Instead, it highlights how images like this circulated through workshops, courts, and collections, preserving an idealized vision of queenship, daughterhood, and noble female community in the late 17th century.

“Maria Kazimiera i Teresa Kunegunda w otoczeniu dam dworu” (Maria Kazimiera and Teresa Kunegunda Surrounded by Ladies-in-Waiting) possibly by Henri Gascar (French) - Oil on canvas / after 1682 - Muzeum Zamoyskich w Kozłówce (Poland) #WomenInArt #arttext #MuzeumZamoyskich #BaroqueArt #arte #1680sArt

4 days ago 26 4 4 0
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American artist Norman Rockwell painted this image in 1918, when he was only in his early twenties and the First World War was still reshaping everyday life. Rather than showing soldiers overseas, he turned to the emotional labor of the home front like waiting, reading, hoping, and fearing. 

On a sandy bluff above a dark blue shoreline, four young white women gather in a mood of waiting rather than leisure. One sits front and center in a rose-and-rust patterned dress, elbows on knees, her chin pressed into both hands, staring out with tired, worried eyes. Beside and behind her, a woman in blue folds inward toward the sea. Another in a mustard-brown dress and broad hat sits in profile. A fourth stands in a pale blue-gray dress with a deep red sash, her arms lifted over her head against a sky crowded with swelling clouds. At their feet lie a small basket and a letter marked by wartime censorship. Far below, tiny figures dot the beach, but their distance only deepens the feeling of separation. The women’s bodies feel suspended between stillness and strain, as if time itself has slowed.

The picture so effective because its drama is quiet. The sea becomes both literal horizon and symbolic barrier, the place where loved ones have vanished from sight. The censored letter matters because it stands for contact that is partial, delayed, and controlled by war. Even good news arrives wounded. Painted in oil on canvas and then published as the cover of Life on August 15, 1918, the painting turns magazine illustration into shared national feeling. Rockwell gives each woman a different posture of anxiety, so the scene is like a study of longing: exhaustion, vigilance, resignation, and stubborn hope. It is sentimental, yes, but not shallow. The artist asks us to remember that war is endured not only in battlefields, but also in the aching intervals between letters, on porches, in parlors, and here, on a bluff above the sea, “till the boys come home.”

American artist Norman Rockwell painted this image in 1918, when he was only in his early twenties and the First World War was still reshaping everyday life. Rather than showing soldiers overseas, he turned to the emotional labor of the home front like waiting, reading, hoping, and fearing. On a sandy bluff above a dark blue shoreline, four young white women gather in a mood of waiting rather than leisure. One sits front and center in a rose-and-rust patterned dress, elbows on knees, her chin pressed into both hands, staring out with tired, worried eyes. Beside and behind her, a woman in blue folds inward toward the sea. Another in a mustard-brown dress and broad hat sits in profile. A fourth stands in a pale blue-gray dress with a deep red sash, her arms lifted over her head against a sky crowded with swelling clouds. At their feet lie a small basket and a letter marked by wartime censorship. Far below, tiny figures dot the beach, but their distance only deepens the feeling of separation. The women’s bodies feel suspended between stillness and strain, as if time itself has slowed. The picture so effective because its drama is quiet. The sea becomes both literal horizon and symbolic barrier, the place where loved ones have vanished from sight. The censored letter matters because it stands for contact that is partial, delayed, and controlled by war. Even good news arrives wounded. Painted in oil on canvas and then published as the cover of Life on August 15, 1918, the painting turns magazine illustration into shared national feeling. Rockwell gives each woman a different posture of anxiety, so the scene is like a study of longing: exhaustion, vigilance, resignation, and stubborn hope. It is sentimental, yes, but not shallow. The artist asks us to remember that war is endured not only in battlefields, but also in the aching intervals between letters, on porches, in parlors, and here, on a bluff above the sea, “till the boys come home.”

“Till The Boys Come Home” by Norman Rockwell (American) - Oil on canvas / 1918 - Ashley Gibson Barnett Museum of Art (Lakeland, Florida) #WomenInArt #NormanRockwell #Rockwell #AGBMuseum #AmericanArt #art #artText #WWIArt #AmericanArtist #BlueskyArt #arte #AmericanIllustration #1910sArt #WarArt

3 days ago 75 12 2 1
In M+’s collection record, the English title is given as “I Graze Horse for My Motherland,” a literal rendering whose slightly stiff phrasing reflects the original Chinese slogan-like cadence. Painted in 1973, during the Cultural Revolution in China, this work turns horse-tending into a heroic national image. Chinese artist Guang Tingbo (廣廷渤) presents women as capable workers and defenders by blending pastoral labor, military readiness, and patriotic duty into one seamless scene.

Three idealized, almost joyful young Asian women ride and manage a small group of horses across an open grassland under a bright sky. At left, one woman in a vivid red coat sits on a white horse. Beside her, a rider in dark green military uniform raises a hand to her brow as if eagerly scanning the distance. At right, a third woman, also dressed in olive military garb, turns her horse forward with a rifle slung across her back. Brown, black, and white horses move diagonally through the foreground and middle distance, creating a sense of speed and coordinated motion. The ground is lush with green grass dotted with flowers plus water, low buildings, and pale blue hills in the distance.

Mao-era art often promoted women as full participants in socialist construction, but always within a collective political script. Here, confidence, beauty, and strength are all directed toward service of the nation. The galloping horses symbolize vigor, discipline, and forward momentum while the vast landscape suggests abundance and ideological clarity rather than hardship. The woman in red provides warmth and visual optimism, while the military gear reminds us that even scenes of rural life were shaped by revolutionary expectations.

Guang, born in 1938 in Liaoning and associated with the generation trained in post-1949 socialist realism, paints freedom defined by collective purpose. The painting’s power lies in a tension between radiant openness and carefully managed political meaning.

In M+’s collection record, the English title is given as “I Graze Horse for My Motherland,” a literal rendering whose slightly stiff phrasing reflects the original Chinese slogan-like cadence. Painted in 1973, during the Cultural Revolution in China, this work turns horse-tending into a heroic national image. Chinese artist Guang Tingbo (廣廷渤) presents women as capable workers and defenders by blending pastoral labor, military readiness, and patriotic duty into one seamless scene. Three idealized, almost joyful young Asian women ride and manage a small group of horses across an open grassland under a bright sky. At left, one woman in a vivid red coat sits on a white horse. Beside her, a rider in dark green military uniform raises a hand to her brow as if eagerly scanning the distance. At right, a third woman, also dressed in olive military garb, turns her horse forward with a rifle slung across her back. Brown, black, and white horses move diagonally through the foreground and middle distance, creating a sense of speed and coordinated motion. The ground is lush with green grass dotted with flowers plus water, low buildings, and pale blue hills in the distance. Mao-era art often promoted women as full participants in socialist construction, but always within a collective political script. Here, confidence, beauty, and strength are all directed toward service of the nation. The galloping horses symbolize vigor, discipline, and forward momentum while the vast landscape suggests abundance and ideological clarity rather than hardship. The woman in red provides warmth and visual optimism, while the military gear reminds us that even scenes of rural life were shaped by revolutionary expectations. Guang, born in 1938 in Liaoning and associated with the generation trained in post-1949 socialist realism, paints freedom defined by collective purpose. The painting’s power lies in a tension between radiant openness and carefully managed political meaning.

“我為祖國放駿馬” (I Herd Fine Horses for the Motherland) by 廣廷渤 / Guang Tingbo (Chinese) - Oil on canvas / 1973 - M+ Museum (Hong Kong) #WomenInArt #GuangTingbo #廣廷渤 #MPlusMuseum #M+Museum #artText #art #arte #ChineseArt #ChineseArtist #PoliticalArt #HorseArt #AsianArt #BlueskyArt #PropogandaArt #1970sArt

3 days ago 32 3 0 0
Thai artist Jiab Prachakul is a compelling figurative painter because she makes quiet moments feel cinematic without turning them into melodrama. Born in Nakhon Phanom, Thailand, trained first in film, and self-taught as a painter, she often builds paintings from memory, photographs, friendship, and the emotional weather of diasporic life. This scene grew from time spent in Sauzon, Belle-Île-en-Mer, and its mood is about the charged space between people who know each other well. 

In bright coastal daylight, two women crouch on a pale quay beside still blue water. The woman at left turns away from us, her short dark bob and clear glasses outlined against the sky. She wears a loose white top and white trousers with dark socks and heavy black boots, her posture compact and inward. At right, a second woman in a sheer black top and dark cropped trousers crouches on the balls of her feet, also in sturdy black boots. Her blunt fringe and lightened hair ends catch the sun. Hoop earrings and sharply modeled cheekbones add to her alert, stylish presence. Between them, her hands extend forward and folding over one another. To their left are two wine glasses. A small boat drifts at left, while a lighthouse sits at the end of a long breakwater. Gold sparks of reflected sunlight skip across the water as the women’s shadows stretch behind them.

The title promises easy intimacy, but the painting gives something subtler: companionship with room for privacy, glamour edged with thoughtfulness, and closeness that does not erase individuality. Prachakul’s attention to clothing, pose, and gesture makes identity feel lived rather than symbolic. The lighthouse and harbor suggest navigation, pause, and emotional bearings. This work also expands who inhabits contemporary painting with elegance, sensitivity, and psychological depth. It is not just a picture of two stylish women by the sea. It is a study in how relationships can be tender, self-possessed, and slightly mysterious all at once.

Thai artist Jiab Prachakul is a compelling figurative painter because she makes quiet moments feel cinematic without turning them into melodrama. Born in Nakhon Phanom, Thailand, trained first in film, and self-taught as a painter, she often builds paintings from memory, photographs, friendship, and the emotional weather of diasporic life. This scene grew from time spent in Sauzon, Belle-Île-en-Mer, and its mood is about the charged space between people who know each other well. In bright coastal daylight, two women crouch on a pale quay beside still blue water. The woman at left turns away from us, her short dark bob and clear glasses outlined against the sky. She wears a loose white top and white trousers with dark socks and heavy black boots, her posture compact and inward. At right, a second woman in a sheer black top and dark cropped trousers crouches on the balls of her feet, also in sturdy black boots. Her blunt fringe and lightened hair ends catch the sun. Hoop earrings and sharply modeled cheekbones add to her alert, stylish presence. Between them, her hands extend forward and folding over one another. To their left are two wine glasses. A small boat drifts at left, while a lighthouse sits at the end of a long breakwater. Gold sparks of reflected sunlight skip across the water as the women’s shadows stretch behind them. The title promises easy intimacy, but the painting gives something subtler: companionship with room for privacy, glamour edged with thoughtfulness, and closeness that does not erase individuality. Prachakul’s attention to clothing, pose, and gesture makes identity feel lived rather than symbolic. The lighthouse and harbor suggest navigation, pause, and emotional bearings. This work also expands who inhabits contemporary painting with elegance, sensitivity, and psychological depth. It is not just a picture of two stylish women by the sea. It is a study in how relationships can be tender, self-possessed, and slightly mysterious all at once.

“Girlfriends” by Jiab Prachakul (Thai) - Acrylic on linen / 2022 - North Carolina Museum of Art (Raleigh, North Carolina) #WomenInArt #JiabPrachakul #Prachakul #NCMA #NorthCarolinaMuseumofArt #art #artText #arte #ThaiArt #ThaiArtist #AsianArt #WomensArt #WomanArtist #WomenArtists #WomenPaintingWomen

2 days ago 58 7 0 0
Two Asian women share a cool, quiet interior arranged around a long dark wooden table. On the left, a woman sits sideways on a chair, her posture upright but relaxed, one bare foot slipping free below a black floral skirt. She wears a white high-collared blouse with wide blue trim and holds an open fan across her lap, while one hand rises near her mouth in a small, thoughtful gesture. Across from her, another woman sits on a low stool with her back turned from us. Her dark hair is gathered up, and one arm lifts as she studies herself in a small hand mirror. The mirror offers the only view of her face, a reflection rather than a direct portrait. Between them rests a tea service on a red runner, and farther down the table a tall blue-and-white vase holds pale blossoms. The room is spare and hushed, built from gray-blue walls, dark furniture, and carefully placed objects. The two women are close together, yet their attention seems inward, suspended between companionship and solitude.

That tension gives the painting its staying power. Tea often suggests conversation, welcome, and shared ritual, but Chinese artist Wang Xiaojin (王笑今) turns the scene into something quieter and more psychological. The woman at left presents herself outwardly, fan in hand, while the woman at right is only knowable through reflection. The result is a painting about looking as much as about tea including the gap between outer grace and inner life. The porcelain vase, blossoms, table setting, and dress evoke a refined Chinese domestic world, yet the stylized figures and controlled composition feel distinctly modern.

Wang, born in 1968 in Manzhouli, Inner Mongolia, studied in Shandong and later worked in Beijing. His paintings blend Eastern and Western visual languages, and that synthesis is visible here. He does not simply recreate tradition. He stages it, using elegant women, ritual objects, and reflective surfaces to explore performance, beauty, restraint, and emotional distance.

Two Asian women share a cool, quiet interior arranged around a long dark wooden table. On the left, a woman sits sideways on a chair, her posture upright but relaxed, one bare foot slipping free below a black floral skirt. She wears a white high-collared blouse with wide blue trim and holds an open fan across her lap, while one hand rises near her mouth in a small, thoughtful gesture. Across from her, another woman sits on a low stool with her back turned from us. Her dark hair is gathered up, and one arm lifts as she studies herself in a small hand mirror. The mirror offers the only view of her face, a reflection rather than a direct portrait. Between them rests a tea service on a red runner, and farther down the table a tall blue-and-white vase holds pale blossoms. The room is spare and hushed, built from gray-blue walls, dark furniture, and carefully placed objects. The two women are close together, yet their attention seems inward, suspended between companionship and solitude. That tension gives the painting its staying power. Tea often suggests conversation, welcome, and shared ritual, but Chinese artist Wang Xiaojin (王笑今) turns the scene into something quieter and more psychological. The woman at left presents herself outwardly, fan in hand, while the woman at right is only knowable through reflection. The result is a painting about looking as much as about tea including the gap between outer grace and inner life. The porcelain vase, blossoms, table setting, and dress evoke a refined Chinese domestic world, yet the stylized figures and controlled composition feel distinctly modern. Wang, born in 1968 in Manzhouli, Inner Mongolia, studied in Shandong and later worked in Beijing. His paintings blend Eastern and Western visual languages, and that synthesis is visible here. He does not simply recreate tradition. He stages it, using elegant women, ritual objects, and reflective surfaces to explore performance, beauty, restraint, and emotional distance.

“Chinese Tea” by 王笑今 / Wang Xiaojin (Chinese) - Oil on canvas / 2002 - Museum of Art (Online) #WomenInArt #WangXiaojin #王笑今 #MuseumOfArt #ChineseArt #art #artText #BlueskyArt #ChineseArtist #ChineseContemporaryArt #AsianArtist #AsianArt #TeaCulture #ChineseTea #arte #WomenInPainting #2000sArt

2 days ago 41 3 1 1
Canadian artist Prudence Heward turns a familiar social scene into something psychologically charged. A pair of women are not decorative accessories on a gentleman’s evening out. They occupy public space on their own terms. That matters in 1928. The theatre becomes a modern arena of female independence, spectatorship, and self-possession, where women go not only to watch but also to be visible. 

Two young women sit side by side before a performance begins, seen from just behind, as if we occupy a row directly behind them. Their bare upper backs and necks catch a soft, creamy light that stands out against the dark theatre. Both wear black evening dresses cut low across the shoulders. The woman at left has a smooth, simple back, while the woman at right wears a dress with a sheer patterned panel that curls across the fabric in pale loops. Their chestnut-brown hair is parted and gathered into low, polished buns. The woman on the right turns slightly, her cheek and nose visible in profile as she holds a white program in one hand. Around them, other audience members dissolve into shadowy shapes. Deep red seat backs curve across the foreground with a midnight-blue garment partially over the right seat, while cool blue-gray walls rise in broad vertical bands on the stage.

The museum notes that the sitters may be Marion and Elizabeth Robertson, the sisters of Beaver Hall Group artist Sarah Robertson, which adds an intimate, almost insider quality to the scene.

Heward had returned from Paris only a short time earlier and was developing the bold, sculptural style that would make her one of Canada’s most incisive painters of women. Contemporary critics reduced the picture to “a study of décolleté,” but another praised its “originality” and “vigour.” That tension is still the point. The painting acknowledges the social gaze, yet refuses to flatten these women into spectacle. They feel alert, self-contained, and modern to be present in the crowd, but not absorbed by it.

Canadian artist Prudence Heward turns a familiar social scene into something psychologically charged. A pair of women are not decorative accessories on a gentleman’s evening out. They occupy public space on their own terms. That matters in 1928. The theatre becomes a modern arena of female independence, spectatorship, and self-possession, where women go not only to watch but also to be visible. Two young women sit side by side before a performance begins, seen from just behind, as if we occupy a row directly behind them. Their bare upper backs and necks catch a soft, creamy light that stands out against the dark theatre. Both wear black evening dresses cut low across the shoulders. The woman at left has a smooth, simple back, while the woman at right wears a dress with a sheer patterned panel that curls across the fabric in pale loops. Their chestnut-brown hair is parted and gathered into low, polished buns. The woman on the right turns slightly, her cheek and nose visible in profile as she holds a white program in one hand. Around them, other audience members dissolve into shadowy shapes. Deep red seat backs curve across the foreground with a midnight-blue garment partially over the right seat, while cool blue-gray walls rise in broad vertical bands on the stage. The museum notes that the sitters may be Marion and Elizabeth Robertson, the sisters of Beaver Hall Group artist Sarah Robertson, which adds an intimate, almost insider quality to the scene. Heward had returned from Paris only a short time earlier and was developing the bold, sculptural style that would make her one of Canada’s most incisive painters of women. Contemporary critics reduced the picture to “a study of décolleté,” but another praised its “originality” and “vigour.” That tension is still the point. The painting acknowledges the social gaze, yet refuses to flatten these women into spectacle. They feel alert, self-contained, and modern to be present in the crowd, but not absorbed by it.

“At the Theatre” by Prudence Heward (Canadian) - Oil on canvas / 1928 - Montreal Museum of Fine Arts (Montreal, Québec) #WomenInArt #WomensArt #WomanArtist #WomenArtists #PrudenceHeward #Heward #MontrealMuseumOfFineArts #art #arttext #WomenPaintingWomen #arte #CanadianArt #1920sArt #CanadianArtist

1 day ago 48 10 2 0
This painting marked a turning point for American artist Amy Sherald in 2018, just after the national attention surrounding her portrait of Michelle Obama. It was the first work she made after that historic commission and one of the first in which her imagined world opened into a full landscape. Sherald said she had wanted for years to place figures in an open field, and the rocket arrived as a symbol of “unlimited potential,” but also as something coded in American culture as white and male. Here, she reclaims that symbolic space. 

Two young Black women stand barefoot in a wide field of dry yellow grass, seen mostly from behind as they hold hands. The woman at right turns her head back toward us, with a calm, direct, slightly questioning gaze. The other looks forward toward a rocket launch in the distance. Sherald paints both figures in her signature grayscale rather than naturalistic skin color, while their clothing carries vivid life. The woman on the left wears a white shirt with a high-waisted blue skirt. The other wears a striped dress in bright bands of pink, orange, yellow, and green, with a white bow at her hair. At the far left, a rocket lifts into the sky, its plume running almost like a vertical white scar or beacon beside them. The horizon sits low, making the sky feel immense and the figures quietly monumental.

The two sitters were not celebrities but women Sherald met through a Baltimore school community, one a teacher and one a graduate, which matters. Everyday Black life, not spectacle, is the center of the picture. Their joined hands suggest solidarity, intimacy, and shared witness. The title stretches between machinery and mystery as well as between earthly limits and mental freedom. Sherald turns the “spaces in between” into a zone of dreaming, self-possession, and possibility for an image of Black womanhood not under scrutiny, but already sovereign.

This painting marked a turning point for American artist Amy Sherald in 2018, just after the national attention surrounding her portrait of Michelle Obama. It was the first work she made after that historic commission and one of the first in which her imagined world opened into a full landscape. Sherald said she had wanted for years to place figures in an open field, and the rocket arrived as a symbol of “unlimited potential,” but also as something coded in American culture as white and male. Here, she reclaims that symbolic space. Two young Black women stand barefoot in a wide field of dry yellow grass, seen mostly from behind as they hold hands. The woman at right turns her head back toward us, with a calm, direct, slightly questioning gaze. The other looks forward toward a rocket launch in the distance. Sherald paints both figures in her signature grayscale rather than naturalistic skin color, while their clothing carries vivid life. The woman on the left wears a white shirt with a high-waisted blue skirt. The other wears a striped dress in bright bands of pink, orange, yellow, and green, with a white bow at her hair. At the far left, a rocket lifts into the sky, its plume running almost like a vertical white scar or beacon beside them. The horizon sits low, making the sky feel immense and the figures quietly monumental. The two sitters were not celebrities but women Sherald met through a Baltimore school community, one a teacher and one a graduate, which matters. Everyday Black life, not spectacle, is the center of the picture. Their joined hands suggest solidarity, intimacy, and shared witness. The title stretches between machinery and mystery as well as between earthly limits and mental freedom. Sherald turns the “spaces in between” into a zone of dreaming, self-possession, and possibility for an image of Black womanhood not under scrutiny, but already sovereign.

"Planes, rockets, and the spaces in between" by Amy Sherald (American) - Oil on canvas / 2018 - Baltimore Museum of Art (Baltimore, Maryland) #WomenInArt #WomensArt #WomanArtist #AmySherald #Sherald #BaltimoreMuseumOfArt #artBMA #BMA #art #artText #BlackArt #AmericanArt #BlackArtist #WomenArtists

1 day ago 39 7 0 0
Two young women move arm in arm through a crowded modern street, yet German artist August Macke makes them feel strangely calm inside the rush. The girl at left has bright reddish hair and turns her face away from us, her body angled forward as if she has just noticed something beyond the frame. Her companion, with dark hair pulled back, is shown in profile in a dress of deep red, rose, and brown. Their linked arms create the emotional center of the painting. Around them, the city breaks into splintered planes, sharp diagonals, flashes of yellow light, fragments of wheels, railings, figures, shopfront reflections, and bouquet-like bursts of color near the lower edge. Space feels unstable and alive. The girls are clearly human and solid, but nearly everything surrounding them seems to vibrate, flicker, and fracture into movement.

That tension is the point. Macke sets human closeness against the speed and sensory overload of modern life. The Städel notes how strongly the painting reflects the impact of Italian Futurism and French Cubism as the city is all motion, geometry, duplication, and glare, while the girls remain comparatively classical and self-contained. They do not dissolve into spectacle. 

Painted in 1913, when Macke was in his mid-twenties and already one of the most gifted artists in the orbit of Der Blaue Reiter, the work shows how deftly he absorbed new avant-garde ideas without losing his warmth toward everyday people. He was especially responsive to French modernism and to Robert Delaunay’s color-driven experiments, yet he kept returning to scenes of strolling, shopping, looking, and being together. The sitters here are unidentified, but that anonymity adds to the painting’s modernity. They become both specific companions and emblems of urban friendship. Seen now, one year before Macke’s death in World War I at just 27, the picture feels powerful and fragile at once like an image of companionship held steady inside a dazzling, unstable world.

Two young women move arm in arm through a crowded modern street, yet German artist August Macke makes them feel strangely calm inside the rush. The girl at left has bright reddish hair and turns her face away from us, her body angled forward as if she has just noticed something beyond the frame. Her companion, with dark hair pulled back, is shown in profile in a dress of deep red, rose, and brown. Their linked arms create the emotional center of the painting. Around them, the city breaks into splintered planes, sharp diagonals, flashes of yellow light, fragments of wheels, railings, figures, shopfront reflections, and bouquet-like bursts of color near the lower edge. Space feels unstable and alive. The girls are clearly human and solid, but nearly everything surrounding them seems to vibrate, flicker, and fracture into movement. That tension is the point. Macke sets human closeness against the speed and sensory overload of modern life. The Städel notes how strongly the painting reflects the impact of Italian Futurism and French Cubism as the city is all motion, geometry, duplication, and glare, while the girls remain comparatively classical and self-contained. They do not dissolve into spectacle. Painted in 1913, when Macke was in his mid-twenties and already one of the most gifted artists in the orbit of Der Blaue Reiter, the work shows how deftly he absorbed new avant-garde ideas without losing his warmth toward everyday people. He was especially responsive to French modernism and to Robert Delaunay’s color-driven experiments, yet he kept returning to scenes of strolling, shopping, looking, and being together. The sitters here are unidentified, but that anonymity adds to the painting’s modernity. They become both specific companions and emblems of urban friendship. Seen now, one year before Macke’s death in World War I at just 27, the picture feels powerful and fragile at once like an image of companionship held steady inside a dazzling, unstable world.

“Zwei Mädchen” (Two Girls) by August Macke (German) - Oil on canvas / 1913 - Städel Museum (Frankfurt am Main, Germany) #WomenInArt #AugustMacke #Macke #StaedelMuseum #StädelMuseum #Staedel #art #arte #kunst #arttext #BlueskyArt #Expressionism #GermanArtist #GermanArt #1910sArt #DerBlaueReiter

18 hours ago 33 7 1 1
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Two women sit on a deep window ledge, shown in profile against a dreamlike view of Córdoba, Spain. At right, a dark-haired young woman in working-class dress folds her legs beneath her and raises a tarot card for the other to see. At left, her companion leans back with a long, elegant neck, heavy-lidded eyes, and a face turned inward with melancholy. Their bodies are close, but their moods do not meet. The fortune-teller seems alert, almost sly. The other woman appears distant, absorbed by private sorrow. 

Spanish artist Julio Romero de Torres stages them with velvety skin, dark hair, and sculptural stillness, setting their figures against a city assembled like emotional theater. In the middle distance, another tiny drama unfolds: a woman seems to reach toward a man as if trying to stop him, while farther back a red-shawled figure lingers in a doorway. The whole scene feels paused between prophecy and aftermath.

Romero de Torres was already a celebrated painter by 1920, known for images of women that fused Andalusian identity, symbolism, desire, and unease. Here, he turns card-reading into a meditation on love’s imbalance. The cards are not light entertainment, but are a warning. The museum’s interpretation links the painting to sadness, indifference, and dangers of loving a married man, with the secondary scene acting almost like a cinematic flash of the story behind the sitter’s stress.

The layered storytelling matters. the picture is not simply about “fortune” but about emotional knowledge, especially the kind women are left to carry, intuit, and survive. Romero de Torres often used paired women to suggest dualities like sacred and profane, innocence and experience, or hope and resignation. In this work, the contrast is quieter and more human: one woman reads signs, the other lives their consequences. The invented yet recognizable Córdoba behind them turns private heartbreak into civic myth, making female feeling the true monument at the center of the canvas.

Two women sit on a deep window ledge, shown in profile against a dreamlike view of Córdoba, Spain. At right, a dark-haired young woman in working-class dress folds her legs beneath her and raises a tarot card for the other to see. At left, her companion leans back with a long, elegant neck, heavy-lidded eyes, and a face turned inward with melancholy. Their bodies are close, but their moods do not meet. The fortune-teller seems alert, almost sly. The other woman appears distant, absorbed by private sorrow. Spanish artist Julio Romero de Torres stages them with velvety skin, dark hair, and sculptural stillness, setting their figures against a city assembled like emotional theater. In the middle distance, another tiny drama unfolds: a woman seems to reach toward a man as if trying to stop him, while farther back a red-shawled figure lingers in a doorway. The whole scene feels paused between prophecy and aftermath. Romero de Torres was already a celebrated painter by 1920, known for images of women that fused Andalusian identity, symbolism, desire, and unease. Here, he turns card-reading into a meditation on love’s imbalance. The cards are not light entertainment, but are a warning. The museum’s interpretation links the painting to sadness, indifference, and dangers of loving a married man, with the secondary scene acting almost like a cinematic flash of the story behind the sitter’s stress. The layered storytelling matters. the picture is not simply about “fortune” but about emotional knowledge, especially the kind women are left to carry, intuit, and survive. Romero de Torres often used paired women to suggest dualities like sacred and profane, innocence and experience, or hope and resignation. In this work, the contrast is quieter and more human: one woman reads signs, the other lives their consequences. The invented yet recognizable Córdoba behind them turns private heartbreak into civic myth, making female feeling the true monument at the center of the canvas.

“La Buenaventura (The Fortune-telling)" by Julio Romero de Torres (Spanish) - Oil on canvas / 1920 - Museo Carmen Thyssen Málaga (Málaga, Spain) #WomenInArt #JulioRomeroDeTorres #RomeroDeTorres #MuseoCarmenThyssenMalaga #arte #BlueskyArt #artText #spanishartist #SpanishArt #FortuneTelling #1920sArt

13 hours ago 32 10 0 1
Two women sit close together on the ground amid dense, oversized leaves that press around them like a living backdrop. The woman at left faces us directly. She has dark hair parted at the center, small red earrings, a pale blue blouse, and a deep plum skirt. In her arms, she cradles a long orange squash, while several pale cut rounds of squash lie on the earth in front of the pair. The woman at right turns in profile toward her companion. She wears a vivid red-orange blouse and a dark skirt, her black hair pulled back smoothly.

Both figures are built from rounded, weighty forms, with broad hands, strong forearms, and calm, self-contained expressions. Both women are painted with medium-to-deep brown skin tones, and American artist Lucretia Van Horn gives that brownness a warm, solid presence rather than treating it as incidental detail. The painting compresses space so that the women and the surrounding plants seem almost pressed against the picture surface, giving the scene an intimate yet monumental stillness.

That sculptural stillness is part of the painting’s power. Van Horn does not treat these women as decorative types. She gives them gravity, dignity, and presence. JLW’s artist essay notes that “Two Women with a Squash” reflects the impact of Diego Rivera and other Mexican muralists on her work, especially in its flattened space, simplified modeling, and sympathetic treatment of women in a natural setting. 

Van Horn, born in St. Louis, Missouri in 1882 and later active in Berkeley’s modernist circles, had studied in New York and Paris before travel in Mexico reshaped her art. She assisted Rivera, absorbed his monumental approach to the human figure, and translated that influence into her own language. Here, sustenance, land, and womanhood are bound together as the squash is not just a still-life detail, but a sign of bodily nourishment, rural labor, and continuity with the earth.

Two women sit close together on the ground amid dense, oversized leaves that press around them like a living backdrop. The woman at left faces us directly. She has dark hair parted at the center, small red earrings, a pale blue blouse, and a deep plum skirt. In her arms, she cradles a long orange squash, while several pale cut rounds of squash lie on the earth in front of the pair. The woman at right turns in profile toward her companion. She wears a vivid red-orange blouse and a dark skirt, her black hair pulled back smoothly. Both figures are built from rounded, weighty forms, with broad hands, strong forearms, and calm, self-contained expressions. Both women are painted with medium-to-deep brown skin tones, and American artist Lucretia Van Horn gives that brownness a warm, solid presence rather than treating it as incidental detail. The painting compresses space so that the women and the surrounding plants seem almost pressed against the picture surface, giving the scene an intimate yet monumental stillness. That sculptural stillness is part of the painting’s power. Van Horn does not treat these women as decorative types. She gives them gravity, dignity, and presence. JLW’s artist essay notes that “Two Women with a Squash” reflects the impact of Diego Rivera and other Mexican muralists on her work, especially in its flattened space, simplified modeling, and sympathetic treatment of women in a natural setting. Van Horn, born in St. Louis, Missouri in 1882 and later active in Berkeley’s modernist circles, had studied in New York and Paris before travel in Mexico reshaped her art. She assisted Rivera, absorbed his monumental approach to the human figure, and translated that influence into her own language. Here, sustenance, land, and womanhood are bound together as the squash is not just a still-life detail, but a sign of bodily nourishment, rural labor, and continuity with the earth.

“Two Women with a Squash” by Lucretia Van Horn (American) - Oil on canvas / c. 1930 - JLW Collection (Sun Valley, Idaho) #WomenInArt #WomanArtist #WomenArtists #LucretiaVanHorn #VanHorn #JLWCollection #arte #art #artText #AmericanArtist #AmericanArt #JLW #WomenPaintingWomen #WomensArt #1930sArt

8 hours ago 21 3 0 0

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

13 hours ago 4 2 0 0
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Dzień dobry ☀️ Fajnej środy

Guten Morgen ☕ Habt einen feinen Tag

🏞️ Kolsay, Almaty region, Kasachstan
(Archiv)

7 hours ago 161 39 25 1
Eine Frau mit braunen, lockigen Haaren lächelt in die Kamera. Sie trägt einen orangefarbenes Kleid mit einem hohen Kragen und zwei auffälligen Broschen. Im Vordergrund befinden sich leuchtend gelbe Chrysanthemen. Der Hintergrund ist verschwommen, zeigt aber eine helle, freundliche Umgebung.

Eine Frau mit braunen, lockigen Haaren lächelt in die Kamera. Sie trägt einen orangefarbenes Kleid mit einem hohen Kragen und zwei auffälligen Broschen. Im Vordergrund befinden sich leuchtend gelbe Chrysanthemen. Der Hintergrund ist verschwommen, zeigt aber eine helle, freundliche Umgebung.

Heute jährt sich der Geburtstag von Betty Ford (8. April 1918). Als First Lady brach sie radikal mit Konventionen: Sie kämpfte für Frauenrechte (Equal Rights Amendment) und brach gewaltige Tabus, indem sie mutig und offen über ihre Brustkrebs- und Suchterkrankung sprach. 🕊️💪 #Gittepedia

7 hours ago 62 17 17 0
Eine weite Wiesenlandschaft der Salzwiesen mit einer länglichen Wasserfläche in der Bildmitte, die sich perspektivisch nach hinten verjüngt. Ein einzelner Holzpfahl ragt aus dem Wasser. Der Himmel ist von dichten, weißen Wolken und einzelnen blauen Flächen geprägt. Im Hintergrund verläuft ein niedriger Zaun, dahinter sind Schafe zu erkennen.

Eine weite Wiesenlandschaft der Salzwiesen mit einer länglichen Wasserfläche in der Bildmitte, die sich perspektivisch nach hinten verjüngt. Ein einzelner Holzpfahl ragt aus dem Wasser. Der Himmel ist von dichten, weißen Wolken und einzelnen blauen Flächen geprägt. Im Hintergrund verläuft ein niedriger Zaun, dahinter sind Schafe zu erkennen.

Stürmisches Wetter in den Salzwiesen. ☀️🌊
Stormy weather in the salt
meadows.
#eastcoastkin #ECK
#waterwednesday

10 hours ago 200 37 3 0