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Victor Nizovtsev

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Väinö Blomstedt (1871-1947, Finnish) ~ Francesca, 1897
[Source: kokoelma.kansallisgalleria.fi]
Green frescoes from Pompeii, Italy
Resting Female by Pauline Wallen (American, 1922–2010)
medieval heart-shaped prayer book in a medieval painting and in real life

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Bees flying into hives.
Peterborough, Bodleian Library, MS. Ashmole 1511, Folio 75v. Early 13th century.
John William Waterhouse, La Belle Dame sans Merci Dicksee Frank, La Belle Dame Sans Merci
"La Belle Dame sans Merci" ("The Beautiful Lady Without Mercy") is a ballad written by John Keats in 1819. The poem tells the story of a knight who meets a mysterious and beautiful woman in a meadow. (I met a lady in the meads, / Full beautiful, a faery's child; / Her hair was long, her foot was light, / And her eyes were wild.)
She enchants him with her beauty, sings to him, and takes him to her "elfin grot". (She took me to her elfin grot, / And there she gaz'd and sighed deep, / And there I shut her wild sad eyes / So kiss'd to sleep.)
There, he falls asleep and dreams of pale, ghostly kings and warriors who warn him that the woman has enslaved them too. When he wakes, he finds himself alone, "on the cold hill's side," abandoned and desolate. (And this is why I sojourn here, / Alone and palely loitering, / Though the sedge is withered from the lake, / And no birds sing.)
to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die
from John Keats’s love letter to Fanny Brawne Tristan and Isolt (Death), Rogelio de Egusquiza The Reconciliation of the Montagues and Capulets over the Dead Bodies of Romeo and Juliet, Frederick Leighton Death of Francesca de Rimini and Paolo Malatesta, Alexandre Cabanel
Mary Magdalene in Meditation (1623) by Jusepe de Ribera
Daughter (2026), oil on linen by Filip Mirazovic

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August Malmström, Dancing Fairies.
Thinking about Simon trying Tinder for the first time but it’s not what he expected. He signed up without telling anyone because if he had uttered a word about it, you already know Johnny or Kyle is going to snoop through his phone to look at his profile.
But Simon being Simon, he doesn’t know how to present himself in a good light. His photos were bad; he took two selfies as he created his profile and they were not good to say the least. One was a mirror photo of him holding his tiny phone with both of his hands as he stoically stared into the mirror. The other was just a selfie of him except it wasn’t angled high or even remotely attractive. It was angled down as if he was taking some sort of quick snap.
The only thing saving his profile was a photo of Riley wearing a vest and goggles.
His bio was the worst of them all.
“I like working out. I have a busy job.”
That was it.
No personality, no indication that he wanted more than just a quickie.
Simon wasn’t expecting much out of the app and he was right because the next day, he opened up the app to find no matches.
Got the man thinking that he really was ugly.
It ruined his self esteem a little if he said so himself. Simon didn’t care about what other people thought but gosh, not even one person wanted to match with him?
…. And then he learned that he also had to swipe to get matches.
So on Simon’s off day, he practically spent half of the day swiping through people. He was picky, believe it or not.
Boring bio? Bye.
Too much filters or AI? Bye.
Too corny? Bye.
Clearly only looking for a one night stand? Bye.
Kind of hypocritical considering his profile looks like he only spent five minutes creating (which he did).
Just when Simon was about to give up on his love life for good, the last profile he stopped on was yours. Simple, nice photos, interesting bio and funny prompts. He hesitated— not because he wanted to skip, but in fear of rejection. Because if he swiped right and there was no “it’s a match!”, he’d probably wonder if he’ll ever find the love of his life.
His thumb hovered over the middle of his phone before he pressed down and swiped right.
It’s a match!
His phone lit up with the two profiles and underneath was his chance to send a message first.
Fuck. He didn’t know what to say. Should he try to be funny? Or start it off with a simple hey?
Simon began typing, deleting, typing and deleting the same message for the next two minutes before finally settling with a: “Hi. How are y”
He typed too fast that he didn’t even finish his sentence before he pressed sent.
Maybe Tinder wasn’t for him after all.
This was very funny in my head, but the presentation is lacking. I still hope you like it, because I wasted six minutes of my free time on it. Then I ran out of space on the paper and didn't care to continue. This is also the first thing I have drawn in literally two years. It was fun, I should draw more often to catch up 🖍 Regardless I think I quite accurately represented the horror that is men taking selfies
Georges Marie Julien Girardot (1856-1914, French) ~ Water Nymphs, n/d
[Source: Christie's]
Glyn Warren Philpot

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Nymphea, c.1890 by Arthur Wardle (English, 1864–1949)
Nymphea, c.1890 by Arthur Wardle (English, 1864–1949)