#monet painting wallpaper

[7wallpapers]

Claude Monet

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[animula-vagula-blandula]

Marine Paintings 🩵

[generalstarkov]

This is more of a personal project but I thought I should also share it here because I really like how it turned out.

Unreal Unearth wallpapers I made using only the pictures I took during my silly little trip to San Francisco.

1. Rococo Mirror, The Legion of Honor Museum // Unknown

2. Red Water Lilies by Monet, The Legion of Honor Museum // Through Me (The Flood)

3. Sunset near Ocean Beach // First Light

4. The Sutro Baths (what remains of) // All Things End

[yellowsandandshells]

“ impressionistic gardens ” ...and others

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like & reblog if you use

[mockscreens]

please like/reblog if you save!

more paintings lockscreens here!

[wallpapedits-vvc]

Matching wallpapers #131

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1st: Agapanthus by Claude Monet 1914-1926. 2nd: Sita and Sarita by Cecilia Beaux in 1921.

None of this wallpapers/pictures belongs to me, I just do the matching.

[onestq]

monet, particular

[ranthawp]

kimi ni toidoke x cloude monet

[sadder-daisy]

[kingdrawcse]

Chemistry behind painting pigment (1)

Paris green (copper(II) acetate triarsenite or copper(II) acetoarsenite) is an arsenic-based organic pigment. It is named after being used to kill rats in the sewers of Paris. Because of its bright color and low price, Paris green was a popular pigment in the early 19th century when its toxicity was not found. It was widely used in clothing, candles, and wallpaper.

Painters such as Monet, Cezanne, and Van Gogh often used paris green as the pigment in their works. In the 1980s, the biochemistry department of the University of Glasgow examined Napoleon's body and found that he may die from arsenic poisoning. In the past, the green wallpaper used by the aristocracy was dyed with arsenic dyes such as Paris green. This is one of the hypotheses of how Napoleon died.

[daphnefisherofficial]

bugna: TAKIPSILIM | destiny's twilight

CHAPTER ONE

Pairing: MCU Moon Knight System (Marc/Jake/Steven) x Avatar Fem!Reader

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CHAPTER ONE - SHADOWS OF THE PAST.

TWO MONTHS LATER…

The grandeur of your ancestral house in Guildford enveloped you as you strolled through its opulent corridors. Intricately carved wooden paneling adorned the walls, while rich crimson carpets absorbed the echo of your footsteps. The air is filled with the faint scent of polished wood and aged leather, exuding dignified timelessness.

Ascending the grand staircase, you run your hand along the mahogany handrail, feeling the smoothness of centuries of use. Reaching the landing on the second floor, a series of oil paintings greeted your vision. Painted by the likes of Van Gogh, Monet, Gauguin and Millet, each frame you passed through expressively telling stories of their lives’ hardships expressed through masterful strokes that evoked love, pain and unwavering resolve.

You finally reached a pair of imposing double doors, elaborately carved with intricate designs and gilded accents. Pushing them open, you step into your refuge within this grand manor. You took in the soft early afternoon light streaming through the lace curtains, the interior awash in soft, muted colors that evoke a sense of calm and serenity. The master bedroom itself bore an air of regal charm, with the walls adorned with exquisite silk wallpaper featuring delicate floral patterns. A four-poster bed draped in satin was situated at the very center, the bed linens made of the finest Egyptian cotton and the plump pillows neatly arranged in the head rest. 

Seating yourself at the foot of your bed, your eyes caught a familiar oil canvas painting facing your direction - a self portrait of you dressed in a filipiniana gown while holding a soft-feathered fan on your right hand. Brief images of the very day you were painted flashed through your mind, remembering your shy, palpable smile as you took a graceful, elegant pose towards the handsome yet unrecognizable painter as his right hand carefully glided his paintbrush across the canvas.

You’ve been having these recurring dreams again as of late. But you cannot figure out for the life of you who the mysterious subject of your night recollections is.

Mildly shaking your head, you made your way towards your antique writing desk situated near a large bay window, overlooking the well-manicured gardens outside. The scent of freshly picked flowers finally distracted you from your musings, mingling with the aroma of polished wood. Carefully arranged, your flower vase was strategically placed beside an assortment of your night study essentials -  an inkwell, quill pen, notepad, a hardbound copy of Atlas of Ancient Egpyt, and a work laptop with multiple tabs open. 

Against one wall, a towering bookshelf houses an impressive collection of leather-bound tomes, each one a testament to your intellectual pursuits. You returned the hardbound copy of Atlas of Ancient Egpyt to its previous resting place, vowing to return to it after your overseas assignment. That book was an essential to you since you work full time as a museum curator for the British Museum. Back then, that career path wasn’t meant for your gender in the olden age. But as the world changes with time and equality between sexes have been more embraced, you found yourself living your life long passion of promoting cultural heritage and ancestral discovery.

Typing away at your laptop, you’ve mostly dealt with a lot of email exchanges involving procurement and acquisition of artifacts, record keeping and liaising with Egyptologists for the upcoming Ennead exhibition you’re organizing. You have already let most of your recent business contacts know that you’re on overseas leave, advising everyone to liaise with your secretary, Aleah Santos, in your absence.

A gentle knock on your door pulls you out of your reverie, your eyes now diverted towards the bedroom entrance. A middle-aged British man stands in the doorway with an air of quiet dignity, his appearance a testament to his impeccable service and professionalism. His face exudes an air of experience and reserve, befitting his role as the trusted steward of the household. He wears a perfectly tailored, immaculately pressed charcoal-gray suit with a crisp white shirt and a silk tie, and his salt-and-pepper hair was meticulously combed and styled to maintain a polished appearance.

His striking deep, intelligent blue eyes observed you quietly, framed by well-defined eyebrows that conveyed a sense of attentiveness. He was holding in one hand a tray with a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea and a blueberry scone, and a neatly pressed and folded set of smart, business casual clothes in the other. The fabrics were chosen with care and tailored to perfection, a testament to the older man’s meticulous attention to detail.

“Bill, how lovely to see you this afternoon”, you smiled appreciatively before standing, slowly reaching for your wardrobe in his arms. “Thank you for bringing these”

"It's my pleasure, Lady Carter", Bill answered politely, his refined British accent adding to his aura of sophistication. William Jones, who you affectionately nicknamed “Bill”, is the latest addition in the long line of the Jones household who have served the Carter family for a very long time. As the new head of the family estate, the depth of his loyalty to you runs deep and unquestioned.

"I've taken the liberty of preparing your necessities for the trip”, Bill said with a warm smile as he followed you inside, placing the tray of refreshments on your desk. “You'll find your travel documents and essentials ready in your briefcase, and I’ve packed you a suitcase for the three-day trip”

“What would I ever do without you?” you chuckled playfully, grateful for his unwavering efficiency.

“Years of service have taught me well”, Bill chuckled softly. “Now, if I may, I’d like to go over your schedule for the week.”

“Go ahead, I’m all ears”, you nodded, finally taking your first sip of the afternoon tea prepared. It was nothing short of exquisite, the fragrant steam wafting up to greet your senses. “Impeccable brew as always, by the way”

"I’m glad you like the concoction, Milady”, Bill nodded before clearing his throat, proceeding to recite the details of your upcoming trip. “Your flight to Chicago is later this evening at 7PM, and I will be driving you to the airport three hours prior”

You nodded, mentally ticking off the items on your mental checklist, as he continued to consult his notes and brief you.

“Upon your arrival to the United States, a valet service will pick you up and take you to your hotel. I made reservations at the one within walking distance of the family court where your next interpreting assignment will be running for three days”

“That’s good to hear”, you nodded, taking a small bite of the scone. “Have my secretary check on the tour guide headcount at the British Museum and handle the recruitment interviews while I’m gone” 

“Understood”, Bill said curtly, finishing up writing on his notes. He gave a small bow before leaving the room. With his departure, you set to work on packing your travel essentials for your upcoming assignment. 

The routine of operating as a freelance interpreter was familiar, accepting potential clients needing your services regardless of location. You cater mostly to the Filipino community, as it helped you fulfill your duties as Mayari’s avatar - to oversee, guide and protect her travelers of the night. Of all the careers you dabbled in your long life on this earth, being an interpreter and a museum curator were one of the very few roles you’ve had that you took immense pride in. Both navigated the complexities of language and history, bridging the gap between cultures and individuals.

The next morning after your arrival in the United States, the Chicago sun greeted you as you stepped out of your hotel room and into the bustling city streets. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted from a nearby café, tempting you, but duty called.

You found yourself before the imposing building of the Chicago Family Court in Cook County. It was a massive edifice of imposing architecture, and its walls seemed to resonate with the stories of countless families and their struggles. On your way to the court registry, you navigated the maze of hallways with purposeful steps. The walls were painted in muted tones, and the faint hum of conversation filled the air. Lawyers in tailored suits, stern-faced judges, and anxious family members all found their places. The court clerk finally checked you in after having you sign the log book, advising you of your assigned courtroom for your scheduled appointment.

You walked into the assigned courtroom, the polished wood of the benches and the imposing judge's bench before you. The judge’s gaze met yours as you approached the witness stand, acknowledging your presence as he had you sworn in. He instructed you to raise your right hand as you recited your oath, a solemn promise to faithfully and impartially interpret the proceedings for those who needed it. 

“Thank you, Interpreter”, the judge nodded, your duty now officially recognized. “Please introduce yourself to the courtroom for the record”

“Yes, Your Honor”, you greeted in a clear, unwavering voice. “Good morning. My name is Mira Batala-Carter, and I will be serving as the Tagalog/Filipino interpreter for the witness in the stand”

The court proceedings began, and your voice filled the room as you translated the witness's testimony. You moved seamlessly between languages, ensuring that justice prevailed, one word at a time. The judge and attorneys watched you closely, appreciating your precision and dedication.

After the session concluded, you extended a hand to the witness, a kind-hearted woman who had been through a trying experience. She thanked you for your services, her eyes conveying a profound gratitude that words could not fully capture. As she left your presence, you muttered a silent prayer to your patron goddess, fulfilling your role as her avatar as you invoked a simple protection spell.

“Patnubayan mo ang guhit ng kanyang kapalaran, aking diwatang Mayari”

Guide the lines of her fate, my goddess Mayari.

As the proceedings unfolded over the next three days, you found yourself immersed in the world of legal battles, translating the words and emotions of those caught in the intricate web of the justice system. It was a demanding role, one that required not just linguistic proficiency, but also an acute understanding of human nature and the ability to convey the nuances of speech. Legal jargon and emotional testimonies flowed through you, and you remained resolute in your duty as an interpreter.

You arrived early on the last day of your interpreting assignment, finally giving in to your caffeine cravings as you clutch a cup of steaming coffee to ward off the chilly Chicago morning. You took a seat in the hallway, waiting outside the assigned courtroom. As you sipped your cappuccino and glanced around, your eyes landed on a man slouched on one of the benches, clearly taking a nap. 

His face stirred a memory, one that danced tantalizingly out of reach. Yet you couldn't quite place where you had seen him before. He had a rugged handsomeness, an aura of enigmatic mystery that drew you in. 

The man's companion, a woman of Arabic-Egyptian descent with a cascade of curly, dark hair, approached him, carrying a steaming cup of coffee. She leaned down, her concern etched on her face as she gently nudged him awake. She whispered something to him, and he stirred, blinking his eyes open.

Your heart clenched as you witnessed the tenderness in their interaction. The way their eyes met with shared history and unspoken understanding prompted a deluge of memories to flood your mind, unbidden and unexpected.

Like ghosts from the past, you heard sounds of laughter and shared secrets echoing inside your head. Your lips trembled as they seemingly remembered the tenderness of breathless kisses stolen beneath the moonlit sky. The details eluded you, but the emotions were vivid—joy, love, and a sense of belonging. 

But as swiftly as those memories resurfaced, they slipped away like sand through your fingers, leaving you with an ache of longing and confusion.

Who was this man, and why did his presence stir such deep-seated emotions within you?

Before you could delve further into your thoughts, a call from Bill interrupted your reverie. You reached for your phone, the jarring ringtone pulling you back to reality.

"Lady Carter," Bill's voice came through the receiver, crisp and professional. "I have an important update from Miss Santos. We are still missing one more tour guide from the total headcount you require for the upcoming exhibition"

“Copy that”, you nodded. “Please have her finalize the applicants I’ll need to interview on Saturday”

As you hung up the phone, a court clerk emerged to announce that the morning proceedings will now begin. Finishing the rest of your coffee, you threw the empty cup at the nearby bin before entering the courtroom once more to complete the final leg of your interpreting assignment. 

Unbeknownst to you, Mayari, the patron goddess of the moon, quietly observed from a distance as her ethereal, astral form shimmered from afar. Her eyes, filled with a sorrow you had never seen before, remained fixed on you as she recalled the most grievous of her sins—removing your image of Darius Carter and your memories of the events that had bound you to Khonshu's avatar, Moon Knight. She had acted with what she believed was your best interest at heart, but now, as she watched the remnants of your forgotten past resurface, doubt crept into her heart.

Mayari was determined to see her decision through to the end, to protect you from the darkness that lurked in the shadows. Yet, as she gazed upon the unfolding drama, the lines between right and wrong blurred, and the weight of her choices pressed upon her.

“Mr and Mrs Spector, please come to the front”

END OF CHAPTER ONE.

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[longlistshort]

Sarah Meyohas, “Interference #19”, 2023, Holograms, mirrored black glass, aluminum

Georgia O’Keeffe, “Poppy”, 1927, Oil on canvas

Francis Picabia “The Church of Montigny, Effect of Sunlight” 1908, Oil on canvas (left); Christian Sampson “Projection Painting”, 2023, Acrylic and films with LED light; and Claude Monet “The Houses of Parliament, Effect of Fog, London” 1904, Oil on canvas (right)

The Nature of Art exhibition at the Museum of Fine Arts St. Petersburg merges art from the museum’s collection with loaned works to explore- “art’s crucial role in our evolving quest to understand our relationship with nature and our place in the cosmos”.

One of the benefits of an encyclopedic museum is that visitors have the opportunity to experience art throughout history, and to revisit works that resonate with them. For the section titled Artist as Curator, Sarah Meyohas and Christian Sampson chose pieces from the museum’s collection to pair with their own work.

From the museum-

At first glance, perhaps, these may seem like unusual combinations, but upon deeper contemplation, their selections reveal complementary artistic intents. For instance, Meyohas and Georgia O’Keeffe share an interest in close looking, particularly in finding new ways to examine underappreciated aspects of the natural world. Sampson, influenced by the California Light and Space Movement, is interested in current scholarship that suggests the hazy fog found in Claude Monet’s work is an early depiction of air pollution, offering an entirely new perspective on the artist’s representations of light.

Sampson also created the four-part installation, Tempus volat, hora fugit, on view until 2025 at the museum.

Below are some of the works from additional sections of the exhibition.

Postcommodity, “kinaypikowiyâs”, 2021, Four 30.5-metre industrial debris booms

Postcommodity is an interdisciplinary art collective comprised of Cristóbal Martínez (Genizaro, Manito, Xicano), and Kade L. Twist (Cherokee).

About Postcommodity’s work, kinaypikowiyâs, (seen above) from the museum-

This work is composed of debris booms, used to catch and hold environmental contaminants such as garbage, oil, and chemicals. The colors of the booms correspond to different types of threats— red (flammable), yellow (radioactive), blue (dangerous), and white (poisonous)-in the labeling system for hazardous materials. To indigenous peoples, these are shared medicine colors that carry knowledge, purpose and meaning throughout the Western Hemisphere. Suspended like hung meat, the booms represent a snake that has been chopped into four parts. Each part represents an area of the colonial map of the Western Hemisphere: South America, Central America, North America, and all of the surrounding islands. The title, kinaypikowiyâs, is a Plains Cree word, meaning snake meat. Divided by borders, Postcommodity asserts that all people living in the Americas are riding on the back of this snake.

James Casebere, “Landscape with Houses (Dutchess County, NY), 2009, Archival pigment print mounted to Dibond

James Casebere creates architecturally based models for the large scale photographs seen above.

Duke Riley's Reclaimed ocean plastic sculptures and “Tidal Fool” wallpaper

Duke Riley’s work, which was previously shown at Brooklyn Museum, addresses issues of environmental pollution by using discarded plastics found in the ocean and other waterways to create new work inspired by the past. You can hear him discuss his work in this video.

From the museum-

Inspired by the maritime museum displays he saw while a child growing up in New England, Riley’s scrimshaw series is a cutting observation of capitalist economies-historic and today-that endanger sea life. The sculptures were created for the fictional Poly S. Tyrene Memorial Maritime Museum, and are contemporary versions of sailors’ scrimshaw, or delicately ink-etched whale teeth and bone. Riley first thought about using plastic as an ode to scrimshaw when he saw what he thought was a whale bone washed up on the beach in Rhode Island; it turned out to be the white handle of a deck brush. Riley regularly removes trash from beaches and waterways, and often uses this refuse in his work.

Riley collaborated with Brooklyn-based Flavor Paper to create these two custom wallpapers for his solo exhibition DEATH TO THE LIVING, Long Live Trash at the Brooklyn Museum. Tidal Fool exhibits Riley’s trademark humor in the face of devastating water pollution; notice the Colt 45-guzzling mermaid. Wall Bait vibrantly references Riley’s meticulous fishing lures, which he crafts from refuse found in the waters around New York City.

Daniel Lind-Ramos,"Centinelas de la luna nueva (Sentinels of the New Moon)", 2022-2023, Mixed media

From the museum about this work-

In Centinelas de la luna nueva, he evokes the elders of the mangroves, spiritual beings who watch over and ensure the health of this essential coastal tree. Mangroves are the basis for a complex ecosystem that shelters sea life and serves as the first line of defense in the tropical storms that batter the sub-tropics -including Florida.

Lind-Ramos's practice reflects the vibrant culture of his native Loíza, Puerto Rico, by honoring local agriculture, fishing, cooking, and masquerade. His sculptures also evoke Hurricane Maria (2017), the COVID-19 pandemic, and ongoing environmental degradation. Lind-Ramos is committed to the survival and sustenance of Afro-Taíno traditions and people of the Puerto Rican archipelago. However, his art engages the global community through shared emotions, parallel histories, and the commonality of human experience.

The next post will discuss two other artists in the exhibition, Brookhart Jonquil and Janaina Tschäpe.

[ficfanatictrf]

Give me some vikky fluff where hes learning new things about his s/o's hobbies BUT they are really into Urban arts and literature and analyzing the art and books and film, PLEASEEE

I am so very sorry that this was so short! Spraypaint

Word Count : >1k

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If there was one thing about your relationship with Viktor that had been different than any other relationship you had in the past, it was the fact that he was always supportive of your artistic pursuits- even though he didn’t know a thing about art. 

When the two of you had first started dating, museums had been on the best date ideas. With the range of interests the two of you had combined, one of you always had information to tell the other about when it came to the subject material. It also was something that didn’t put too much strain on his leg, given that seating was always readily available. Plus, anytime he needed to rest was just an extra reason to talk. 

Viktor was a history buff it seemed, always telling you random little facts about the information in front of you. While anytime things had to do with art, you were able to feel how Viktor must feel all the time, being able to stun the person you were talking to with your expertise. 

You still remembered how after slipping away to go to the bathroom, you had come back to find Viktor intently looking at painting, Monet’s Impression, Sunrise. As you slipped up next to him, you whispered your own random fact, much like he did all the time. 

At the mention that when the painting had debuted, it had been heavily criticized. With the most famous review critiquing that it looked unfinished and similar to wallpaper, you could see Viktor’s brows scrunch up in confusion.

“How could someone assume this was unfinished?” The man whispered softly, looking for an area of the painting that wasn’t covered with paint. 

With a grin, you enjoyed that you got to explain a cliff-note version of the Impressionist movement in art. The two of you having ended up sitting down as he listened and asked questions - letting you info dump about the whole thing for over an hour. 

Even though it was the second date, that had been the date that Viktor had kissed you on your doorstep. Afterwards, he admitted that it was because of your passion that you spoke with that had truly cemented your place in his heart, the man finding you far to enamoring.

Each of you took turns picking the museum to visit. At first the two of you picked the ones that went with what you liked, but as the time passed the two of you started to pick the ones that would get the other to talk more. You would look for different scientific lectures, enjoying the little sidebar whispers that Viktor would add to whoever was talking. Either ideas on future research, little tidbits about the scientist, or even his own critiques over the person's work and how they conducted their experiments - how he would have done it better. 

Viktor would then also find the most hole-in-the-wall art exhibits he could find just so that you could go into detail about why the artist might have used the colors that they did or the meaning behind the different flowers or jewelry in the piece. 

It was how you found yourself heading down to the undercity. Viktor makes sure to get you both clothing that would allow you to blend in, but also a respirator mask to blend in even further. 

Sneakily, he had led you by the hand through the alleyways, refusing to give you any hints on what exactly you were going to see at the destination. 

As you rounded a corner, the sight before you was mesmerizing. 

Spray painted onto the walls was a woman with brown hair and, white birds soaring just beneath her. It was beautiful and the fact that Viktor was willing to bring you all the way there to see it was heartwarming. 

“This is something that has been here since my childhood. There are many places down here that have similar art to the pieces that you liked a lot at the last art exhibit we saw. I figured…well, maybe we could start making trips down here, safely, for you to see them?” 

“I would love that” 

[animula-vagula-blandula]

Wallpaper of the month: Monet's lilac and green paintings 🪻

[mockscreens]

please like/reblog if you save!

more paintings lockscreens here!

[scotianostra]

Happy Birthday Scottish artist Jack Vettriano.

Born Jack Hoggan 1951 in St. Andrews, I think many of us will identify with Jack’s upbringing in the industrial seaside town of Methil, in Fife.

The family lived in a spartan miner’s cottage, sharing a bed with his brother and wearing hand-me-down clothes. From the age of 10, his father sent him out delivering papers and milk, cleaning windows and picking potatoes — any job that would earn money, he took half his earning from the youngster.

At 16, like so many in the Fife area he went into the pits, as a mining engineer, he also spent sometime as a bingo caller at the Beachcomber Amusements on Leven Promenade.

For his 21st birthday, his then girlfriend gave him a set of watercolour paints, from there he taught himself to paint. His first attempts at painting were copies of impressionist paintings such as Poppy Fields by Claude Monet. His early influences also included works displayed in the Kirkcaldy Museum and Art Gallery. He moved to Edinburgh in 1987 and adopted the last name of Vettriano, his mother’s maiden name. Jack applied to study Fine Art at the University of Edinburgh, but his portfolio was rejected.

A year later he submitted two paintings for sale to the Royal Scottish Academy. He sold both paintings, and galleries began approaching him to sell his work. Vettriano successfully exhibited his work in many cities, including Edinburgh, Hong Kong, London, and New York. Vettriano’s paintings typically sell for between £48,000 and £195,000, and his total income from royalties is £500,000 per year.

The Royal Academy rejected The Singing Butler for its 1992 summer exhibition, but it sold for £744,500 in 2004, and I say good on him, I suspect their refusal was more to do with snobbery than anything else.

Jack went on to create a series of seven paintings in 1996 that commemorated Sir Malcolm Campbell’s land-speed records at the Bonneville Salt Flats. The most expensive painting in this series was Bluebird at Bonneville, which sold for £468,000 in 2007.

It’s not all about pocketing his earnings though, Bethany Christian Trust, Maggie’s Cancer Caring Centres, Quarriers and Teenage Cancer Trust are just a few of the charities to have benefitted from the sale of some of his paintings.

Vettriano collaborated with Sir Jackie Stewart in 2008 to create Tension, Timing, Triumph – Monaco 1971, a triptych that commemorated Stewart’s overall victory of the 1971 Formula One racing season The Weight is Vettriano’s self-portrait, which has been displayed in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery since 2011.

He likes to gamble on horses, but only bets what he can afford to lose, which I think would mean every day!!!

Jack has set up the Vettriano Trust, and plans to leave his money in the trust “to do good work”

His work rarely fails at auction - he points out that a recent oil painting of his sold for £35,000, well above the estimate. Reproductions of the painting remain the best selling art print in the UK.

But while Vettriano is loved, he's also loathed.

His work has been variously described as "brainless erotica", "just colouring in" "mere wallpaper" and "crass male fantasy ". But another artist David Mach says: "If he was a fashion designer Jack would be right up there. It's all just art world snobbery." Just as I said earlier.

Now 70, he still has his demons, and still rails against the establishments which continue to shut him out. But after two postponements and nearly three years of waiting, he recently said he's delighted his exhibition in Kirkcaldy finally opened to the public earlier this year

One of my favourites by Vettriano is “Dr Connolly I Presume” –which Glasgow street artist Rogue One reproduced in a giant mural outside Hootenanny Bar at Dixon Street, but it is danger of being destroyed as there are plans for a new building to go up there.

Meanwhile Fife Council are trying to raise funds for a statue of his Singing Butler,as seen in the third pic, at least he is being recognised there as I still see a lot of snobbery in the art world towards him, at least in Scotland.

You can check out more from this talented Fifer on his own web site below, and while some of his work is described as erotic, it really is very tame, naughty but nice I would say.

https://www.jackvettriano.com/