Fine Art

The Notorious Madame X
The Parvenu and the Arriviste 1877 19th Parc des Butte-Chaumont - Paris You... are lovely. I would love to paint you.
By Herman Wilkins3 years ago in Art
The Brush of Dreams.
In the heart of a small town, tucked away between bustling streets, stood a quaint bookstore known as "Painted Prose." Its weathered sign swayed gently in the breeze, beckoning curious souls to step inside and explore the wonders within. Few knew of its existence, and those who did often whispered tales of magic and mystery that surrounded the place.
By Gideon Gbadero 3 years ago in Art
THE LADY OF SHALOTT
T’was quite early when I first heard the cock crow, almost on cue as the clock struck four. Then suddenly there was an urgent knocking upon my chamber’s door.
By Jon H. Davis3 years ago in Art
Painted prose : colorful literary expression
Title: Investigating the Specialty of Painted Writing: Disclosing the Shades of Artistic Articulation in the US Presentation
By yogita Rajput3 years ago in Art
The Great Salty Beast
Katsushika Hokusai, Under the Wave off Kanagawa also known as the Great Wave, from the series Thirty-Six Views of Mount Fuji, Japanese, Edo period, about 1830–31. Woodblock print; ink and color on paper. William Sturgis Bigelow Collection.
By Meagan Dion3 years ago in Art
The Artistry of Painted Prose: Engaging the Senses through Vivid Descriptions
Section 1: The Essence of Painted Prose Painted prose, often referred to as descriptive prose, is a literary technique that emphasizes the use of vivid and expressive language to create immersive imagery and evoke sensory experiences. Unlike bare-bones prose that focuses solely on conveying information, painted prose infuses narratives with vibrant colors, textures, sounds, smells, and tastes. It engages the reader's senses, transporting them into the heart of the story and allowing them to experience its world on a deeper level. Through carefully chosen words and detailed descriptions, authors paint a vivid canvas in the reader's mind, transforming mere words into an art form.
By Ndlangamandla Thulasizwe3 years ago in Art
Unrestrained Desire
A young artist by the name of Gamardi found himself lured by the mysterious smile of the Mona Lisa while wandering the busy streets of contemporary Paris. He was overcome by a wave of emotions when she cast a curious look his way. Gamardi set out on a path that would combine fiction, dishonesty, and the depths of infatuation after being inspired by her allure.
By Gloria Anderson3 years ago in Art
Hundreds of Fields, Hundreds of Canvases
Paris. 1874. Olivia sits in a field, before a canvas. She has sat in hundreds of fields, before hundreds of canvases, over a period of hundreds of years. By now, the brushstrokes come as easily as breathing: the force of three centuries of habit. But never before has she tried to keep the motions so loose; to lay on the paint so thick and ridged. Never has she aimed to capture the view as her eye sees it, nakedly and without interpretation—in blocks of color and in fleeting impressions of movement.
By Emma Gardner3 years ago in Art
The Punishment of Lust
The breath of the sun as it rises doesn’t warm me, but it is a welcome change to the daggers of the night. The sharp winds don’t feel so bad when you can hear the birds’ quivering tweets too.
By LB3 years ago in Art
Wanderlust
Thin air burned in his lungs. For a moment, just a hint of a moment, he considered the wagon slowly trundling along behind him. But that was pointless, he would still only be able to travel at the pace of the slowest porter; and besides, it was better to spare the horses at these altitudes. Not for the first time, he looked around as a broad grin split his face. Mountains are never so glorious as when one is on foot between their massive shoulders.
By Alexander McEvoy3 years ago in Art
Painted Pros
- The soldier stood atop the tiller gazing out at the unending blue with a sense of giddy horror. The vastness revealed in all its glory under the clear skies. No land was visible from any angle as the sentry made slow, monotonous laps of the exterior. It was a strange sense to be so alone with so many others. Surrounded, yet together, utterly isolated.
By Amie 3 years ago in Art
The Ghosts of Men
The ghosts of men walk orderly; an army in defeat. They blindly roam the block—round and round they march. Why they've chosen this friendly neighborhood we'll never know. But there they go. Haunting the crisp air. Day in, day out.
By KiKi Walter3 years ago in Art