Woman in the window

Woman in the window

Medium:Archival Signed Edition Photograph

Size (h x w):56cm x 41cm



Cat. Number:876

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Woman in the window


Dutch towns away from the bustle of industry, built around a

linear network of canals, retain an old ambience.  Inevitably I

searched for the social realism of Rembrandt, the ruddy round

faces, broad grins and flagons of ale.  A woman wearing clogs

swept the cobbles between the houses.  The spirit of Jan Vermeer,

of Pieter de Hooch lives on, now cleaned up, pristine facades

glimmer warmly in the sun.  Avenues of orange-red bricks laid

with precision, sparkling windows with stretched lace, carpeted

tables laid with pristine china and ornately stemmed glasses.


The corner shop sat proudly to encase a sparse display.

'I could feel lonely here', I pondered the clouds, deeper in tone

and polarised in the window.  A shop that looked shut even when

open; what did it sell?  I imagined a peasant rolling a barrel down

the street and I could hear a lute gently strummed in the breeze.

An aroma from clay pipes, the distinctive  tincture of a liqueur

permeated this street in 1972.


Her profile held a hint of androgeny, the powdered blush of post

first world war decadence.  Plucked eyebrows pencilled in, a hint

of blue at the corner of the eye, lips parted to reveal china-white

teeth.  Her hair was crimped with heated tongs then airbrushed.

Just who was this girl who had sat at the window for sixty years

without ageing.  A papier-mache Deco-Egyptian goddess of love

juxtaposed with an incongruous plant that would have caught the

eye of David Hockney.


A jewel amidst the bland of modern expectations to excite the eye.

I felt that this little window had been waiting for me, an arranged

secret rendezvous, a two dimensional embrace in a silent street.

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