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Description
Gallery Note
They were known—by those inclined toward whispers and half-truths—as The Three Graces. Not sisters, one felt, but something far more peculiar. In Paul Reeb’s haunting tableau, they rise not with fanfare but with deliberate grace, their limbs entangled like alibis too carefully rehearsed. The sea curls around them conspiratorially, each wave a witness, each ripple a clue. Their expressions—neither joyful nor mournful—suggest knowledge kept, not shared.
The sort of scene one stumbles upon in the final chapter, just before the truth is revealed. If it ever is. A portrait, yes—but also a puzzle. And what could be more thrilling?
Artist Inspiration
The waves, they watched; the sky stood still, And time obeyed their eerie will.
No one could say what brought them there, Nor why they vanished in the air.So mark the shore and mind the trace
Of something more than just Three Graces. For every tale, however grand,
Still hides the truth... just out of hand.by Paul Reeb Artist
Description
Gallery Note
They were known—by those inclined toward whispers and half-truths—as The Three Graces. Not sisters, one felt, but something far more peculiar. In Paul Reeb’s haunting tableau, they rise not with fanfare but with deliberate grace, their limbs entangled like alibis too carefully rehearsed. The sea curls around them conspiratorially, each wave a witness, each ripple a clue. Their expressions—neither joyful nor mournful—suggest knowledge kept, not shared.
The sort of scene one stumbles upon in the final chapter, just before the truth is revealed. If it ever is. A portrait, yes—but also a puzzle. And what could be more thrilling?
Artist Inspiration
The waves, they watched; the sky stood still, And time obeyed their eerie will.
No one could say what brought them there, Nor why they vanished in the air.
So mark the shore and mind the trace
Of something more than just Three Graces. For every tale, however grand,
Still hides the truth... just out of hand.
by Paul Reeb Artist