Thursday, October 22, 2026

Prospect

Jan Toorop
Levensverzekering Maatschappij, Arnhem
1900
lithograph (poster)
Kunstbibliothek, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

Charley Toorop
Still Life with Landscape
1952
oil on canvas
Kröller-Müller Museum, Otterlo, Netherlands

Henry Edward Tidmarsh
Reference Library, King Street, Manchester
1893-94
watercolor and gouache on paper
Manchester Art Gallery

Johann Friedrich August Tischbein
Portrait of Dominica Martha Grassi
1800
oil on canvas
Deutsche Barockgalerie, Augsburg

Louis Tocqué
Portrait of Frederick Michael,
Count Palatine of Zweibrücken-Birkenfeld

ca. 1745
oil on canvas
Alte Pinakothek, Munich

Paul Wilhelm
Red House in Snow III
ca. 1957
oil on canvas
Galerie Neue Meister (Albertinum), Dresden

Gerard ter Borch the Younger
Portrait of a Woman
ca. 1665
oil on canvas
Cleveland Museum of Art, Ohio

Jean-Baptiste Joseph Wicar
Self Portrait
ca. 1810
oil on canvas
Palais des Beaux-Arts de Lille

Adolphe Valette
Flowers and Fruit
1917
oil on canvas
Manchester Art Gallery

Félix Vallotton
Sandbanks on the Loire
1923
oil on canvas
Kunsthaus Zürich

Hans Thoma
Putto and Helmet
1889
watercolor and gouache on paper
Städel Museum, Frankfurt

Wallerant Vaillant
Portrait of Philippe de France, duc d'Orléans
1660
pastel on paper
Graphische Sammlung Albertina, Vienna

attributed to Titian
Virgin and Child
ca. 1507
oil on panel
Accademia Carrara, Bergamo

Adolphe Valette
Study of a Cast of the Dancing Faun
ca. 1904
drawing
Manchester Art Gallery

Erik Werenskiold
The Favorite Spot
1882
oil on canvas
Lillehammer Kunstmuseum, Norway

Jacopo Tintoretto
Doge Alvise Mocenigo and Family before the Virgin and Child
ca. 1575
oil on canvas
National Gallery of Art, Washington DC

Anglais mort à Florence

A little less returned for him each spring.
Music began to fail him. Brahms, although
His dark familiar, often walked apart.

His spirit grew uncertain of delight,
Certain of its uncertainty, in which
That dark companion left him unconsoled

For a self returning mostly memory.
Only last year he said that the naked moon
Was not the moon he used to see, to feel

(In the pale coherences of moon and mood
When he was young), naked and alien,
More leanly shining from a lankier sky.

Its ruddy pallor had grown cadaverous.
He used his reason, exercised his will,
Turning in time to Brahms as alternate

In speech. He was that music and himself.
They were particles of order, a single majesty:
But he remembered the time when he stood alone.

He stood at last by God's help and the police;
But he remembered the time when he stood alone.
He yielded himself to that single majesty;

But he remembered the time when he stood alone,
When to be and delight to be seemed to be one,
Before the colors deepened and grew small.

– Wallace Stevens (1935)