
Woman Bathing Her Feet in a Brook
A woman sits on the bank and puts her bare feet in the water, the whole stream broken into flickering touches of color.

A woman sits on the bank and puts her bare feet in the water, the whole stream broken into flickering touches of color.

For once Fragonard is not being naughty. A girl in yellow reads, and the ruff at her wrist is a few flicks of impasto.

The same woman, same cushions, same pose, now dressed. It is thought to have hung in front of the nude and slid aside.

One hand on the pitcher, one on the window latch, and morning light coming through onto a white cap. Nothing happens, perfectly.

An old man works the ropes without knowing the young man in the bushes is looking straight up her skirts. A slipper flies off.

A kitchen maid pours a thin stream of milk in ordinary daylight, given the weight and stillness usually reserved for saints.

Not a portrait of anyone in particular but a tronie, a study of a type, which somehow made her the most looked-at girl in art.

Manet worked from a real barmaid named Suzon and put her reflection in the wrong place, which people have been arguing about ever since.