Bust of a Victorian Girl on a Red Chair

I pretty much finished this painting today with the scent of lilacs blooming around the house and wafting in through the screen doors. It’s darkish outside and the air is increasingly humid. Occasionally splatters of rain strike the windows. However, mentally I’ve been junketing with Amelia Peabody in brilliant, hot Egypt. I didn’t initially like Elizabeth Peter’s formidable, archaeologist heroine because I thought her unbearably conceited and her husband, Emerson, beyond endurance. I’ve become used to them now, as one does to good people one spends time with. Eventually one becomes immune to their more obnoxious idiosyncrasies. I would quite like to meet Amelia now, although I still can’t stomach her husband. (Amelia is blind though. I do so wish she’d dump him for Sethos.) Perhaps this bust is of the lovely, orphaned, rescued and adopted Nefret.

Bust of a Victorian Girl, oil on canvas, 12×16, Private Collection

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