“At Bourton they always had stiff little vases all down the table. Sally went out, picked hollyhocks, dahlias — all sorts of flowers that had never been seen together — cut their heads off, and made them swim on the top of water in bowls. The effect was extraordinary — coming in from the sunlit garden into the darkened room, the light making the petals luminous, some floating, some sinking, all with the incomparable beauty of their frail, quivering, yet daring life.” — Virginia Woolf, Mrs Dalloway

This painting responds to Woolf’s vivid image of flower heads floating in bowls—fragile, luminous, and boldly un-arranged. I was drawn to the tension between order and wildness, tradition and quiet rebellion.

The blooms hover in a densely layered surface—part reflection, part memory. The textured paint suggests both water and distortion, evoking the fragility of the moment and the fluidity of perception. Light and shadow shift across the composition, echoing Woolf’s theme of transience and inner life. The bowl becomes a vessel not for preservation, but for transformation.

Encaustic wax, oil paint, raw pigment with gesso on board in antique frame. 51 cm w x 41 cm h unframed 69 cm w x 58.5 cm h x 6 cm d framed