Marie Bashkirtseff - Despair (1882)
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Marie Bashkirtseff (Ukrainian, 1858-1884): A meeting (1884) (via Musée d'Orsay)
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Self-Portrait - Raphael // Self-Portrait with a Green Vest – Eugène Delacroix // Self-Portrait – Diego Velázquez // Portrait of a Man (Self Portrait) – Jan van Eyck // Self-Portrait - Jean-Baptiste-Pierre Le Brun // Self-Portrait - Jacques-Louis David // Self-Portrait – Peter Paul Rubens // Mont Blanc and the Glacier des Bossons Looking Down the Arve Valley – JMW Turner // Self-Portrait – Elin Danielson-Gambogi // Self-Portrait - Gwen John // Self-Portrait as Saint Catherine of Alexandria – Artemisia Gentileschi // Self-Portrait in a Straw Hat – Élisabeth Louise Vigée Le Brun // Self-Portrait – Judith Leyster // Self-Portrait – Louise Hollandine of the Palatinate // Self-Portrait with Palette – Marie Bashkirtseff // La Rue des Clos Moreaux – Gwen John
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Marie Bashkirtseff : A reunión (1884)
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Marie Bashkirtseff, Self Portrait with Palette, 1880
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Marie Bashkirtseff L'Académie Julian à Paris 1881
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Marie Bashkirtseff, "At the Table" (unknown)
Carl Rudolph Sohn, "The Discovered Love Letters" (1890)
the writing block has never hit this hard. i feel as though I'm losing all sense and purpose in life.
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Marie Bashkirtseff - Portrait of a Woman (1882)
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Marie Bashkirtseff (Ukrainian, 1858-1884): Spring (1884) (via AWARE Women Artists)
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Un Meeting - Marie Bashkirtseff, 1884
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Marie Bashkirtseff (1858 - 1884), "Le Printemps" (1884).
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In my research I've been learning that queer Russian poet Marina Tsvetaeva (Марина Цветаева) was deeply inspired by performance and paintings in her writing and life. One such artist was Marie Bashkirtseff (Мария Башки́рцева) and her impressionist work. These are four paintings that, to me, evoke a lot of the imagery in Tsvetaeva's poetry and I thought I'd share them along with one of her poems.
For my poems, written so young
I’d not dreamed I was a poet,
Like drops from the fountain flung,
Like sparks from a rocket,
That burst into the realm of true
Sleep, and incense, like tiny demons,
For my poems about death and youth,
– For my unread sermons! –
Scattered in dusty stores, in line,
Where, un-purchased, they are dumb,
For my poems, like precious wine,
A time will come.
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