53cmx53cm

04.05.2026

The Dutch are not famed for being lavish. Their seventeenth century forefathers in particular were a model of restraint and moral rectitude. In all the glorious portraits of their Golden Age, sombre jackets and dresses with impeccably starched extremities are de rigeur. Only the slightest hints of the finer things are ever shown: a sumptuous tapestry, subtly in the background; a beautiful kid-leather glove; an exquisite filigree gold-chain holding the mistress of the house’s keys.

But flowers were a different matter. Flowers are where the Dutch allowed themselves to let go. After all, their passion for tulips and the uncharacteristic speculation on their bulbs famously brought the whole Republic to the brink. In this picture, it’s easy to see why they gave in to temptation.

Have you ever seen such a glorious explosion of colours, shapes and textures? This is the very antithesis of restraint, like a whole chorus line of showgirls, bursting out of the image in rich crimsons and blood reds, luring us like petalled sirens, filling us with desire.

Deep red roses and deep red ranunculi. 

Glistening redcurrants and plump, purple grapes to sink your teeth into. 

A background of red feathers, like some exotic headdress and deep, plush red velvet, dripping with gold tassels. 

A small, spun urn in rich warm wood and the vermillion and black of a ladybird’s wings.

All is lavish, baroque and utterly, utterly seductive.

Had a good, upstanding burger had such a display in his house, he would have revelled in its beauty but surely would have kept it behind a modest curtain of sober grey sailcloth, so as not to scandalise the neighbours.