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- Painting Number 2 : Beyond Reason, Oil on canvas, 2009.
Painting Number 2 : Beyond Reason, Oil on canvas, 2009.
SKU:
€2,165.00
€2,165.00
Unavailable
per item
Limited edition of 250, signed by the artist and numbered.
Available edition now is 3/250. Size 60" x 143" (including 3" blank border all around)
The limited editions are reproduced on archival Hahnemuhle Monet Canvas. H. Monet Canvas is a heavy 100% cotton canvas with a woven pattern. Its natural white colour is perfect for art reproduction, 410 gsm, imported from Germany.
Epson 11880 printer and pigmented UltraChrome K3 inks from Epson are used for printing.
Pigment inks do not fade over long periods of time, unlike dye inks. As a precautionary measure, Hahnemühle Protective Spray is sprayed to protect the digital Fine Art prints from external influences. The aerosol spray lays a fine film, without changing the media structure. It fixes colours of pigment ink and prevents an eventual colour fading. Also the intensity and the high brilliance of the colours stay permanent. The coating increases the abrasion resistance of Fine Art editions, so the risk of fingerprint marks and scratches are reduced. Protective Spray makes the sealing of the surface water repellent. Yellowing of the print due to the spray does not happen.
Certificate of authenticity is provided with each edition.
The Hahnemühle Certificate of Authenticity is designed to protect the security and genuineness of your limited edition art works and reproductions to reduce the risk of forgery.Each certificate is made of premium deckle edged mould made paper with a Hahnemühle watermark and fluorescent security fibres. A serialized numbered hologram is affixed. A second, identically numbered hologram is then applied to the reverse side of the artwork.
The combination of certificate and hologram assures that each Certificate of Authenticity relates to one particular piece of artwork.
The canvas is sent by DHL/FedEx or Indian postal international service, rolled in a tube.
Shipping, insurance, taxes etc to be borne by the buyer/collector.
Allow 7-10 days of processing time.
Available edition now is 3/250. Size 60" x 143" (including 3" blank border all around)
The limited editions are reproduced on archival Hahnemuhle Monet Canvas. H. Monet Canvas is a heavy 100% cotton canvas with a woven pattern. Its natural white colour is perfect for art reproduction, 410 gsm, imported from Germany.
Epson 11880 printer and pigmented UltraChrome K3 inks from Epson are used for printing.
Pigment inks do not fade over long periods of time, unlike dye inks. As a precautionary measure, Hahnemühle Protective Spray is sprayed to protect the digital Fine Art prints from external influences. The aerosol spray lays a fine film, without changing the media structure. It fixes colours of pigment ink and prevents an eventual colour fading. Also the intensity and the high brilliance of the colours stay permanent. The coating increases the abrasion resistance of Fine Art editions, so the risk of fingerprint marks and scratches are reduced. Protective Spray makes the sealing of the surface water repellent. Yellowing of the print due to the spray does not happen.
Certificate of authenticity is provided with each edition.
The Hahnemühle Certificate of Authenticity is designed to protect the security and genuineness of your limited edition art works and reproductions to reduce the risk of forgery.Each certificate is made of premium deckle edged mould made paper with a Hahnemühle watermark and fluorescent security fibres. A serialized numbered hologram is affixed. A second, identically numbered hologram is then applied to the reverse side of the artwork.
The combination of certificate and hologram assures that each Certificate of Authenticity relates to one particular piece of artwork.
The canvas is sent by DHL/FedEx or Indian postal international service, rolled in a tube.
Shipping, insurance, taxes etc to be borne by the buyer/collector.
Allow 7-10 days of processing time.
THE ROYAL MUSEUM OF FINE ARTS, ANTWERP, BELGIUM. - 1962
Every Saturday morning I traveled with the bus to Antwerp city for the weekend to stay with mother, Clement, nick named Clem and the children. The whole gang was still living in the basement of that big house with marble entrance and stairway in the Nerviërsstraat.
Every Sunday morning around 9, I had to go and buy two of the butcher’s Sunday special offer of horse meat steak, ‘buy one get one free’, so everybody could get a serious piece of meat on his plate, at least once a week. The butcher’s shop was located at the very big and famous so called ‘birdie market’, where you could buy everything imaginable, first or second hand.
I enjoyed roaming around in this market. The second hand hardware stands, which were also selling a lot of stuff out of the Second World War like helmets, gas masks, bayonets, uniforms, medals from any army you could think of, took all my attention. And not only watching the stuff, but also the specific smell around it, excited me. I imagined it was the smell of war.
Every time I left the market with pain in my heart. But with two sisters crying to go home and a toddler who threatened to pee in his pants, I was not given another choice.
It was more or less a game for me to discover each time, another road to get back home to my mother’s. Of course, it does not have to be said that sometimes I got so far off the track that I had no clue anymore where I was.
Once I stood in front of an impressive building, I had never seen before. It looked like a big palace. While I worried how to get home from there, my siblings were running after each other, jumping around like monkeys on the lawn. A man in a long black coat appeared, suddenly. He warned me that walking on, let alone playing on the grass was forbidden. I asked him what was inside the big building. He replied, ‘nothing for a loafer like you’ and walked away. I felt insulted and showed the finger behind his back.
Not knowing if I had to go left or right, I asked a passing by elderly woman, how to get to the Nerviërsstraat. She explained while pointing her finger to the cross road, how we had to go.
Back home, on arrival, Mother scolded me and Clem abused me from his bed, because we were much too late with the horse steaks. I did not care at all. In my mind I was still with that neo-classical building, in the middle of that garden, with those two chariots of war and an angle like woman leading the horses to the sky, high up, on left and right of it.
The following weekend, I left home an hour earlier and before going to my mother’s place, I went to the building that left such deep impression on me. I walked up the big steps till the high front entrance but felt extremely insecure and did not dare to enter. The next week and the week after, I experienced similar insecurities. I walked with all my courage in my pocket up the giant stairs but standing in front of the entrance, all my gathered courage, sank in my shoes and I walked back down the stairs.
The fourth time I promised myself not to leave without seeing the inside of the Palace.
I stood in front of the big entrance door, breathing heavily. With eyes closed, I pushed the door with both my hands. To my surprise, the doors did not move. Extremely disappointed, I was about to leave. Luckily, I saw an uniformed man coming closer, signaling with his finger to go to the right. A little confused, I did what he said and saw there was door, open. I entered it with my heart beating in my throat, prepared to be thrown out any moment.
The hall I entered looked really like a king’s palace. I felt myself in another world. I went quietly from one exhibition room to the other. I was amazed to find so much beauty and ugliness at one place. From then on, I visited the museum every week for almost a year and thereafter I stayed going regularly, for years, to watch my favourite paintings or rather one favourite painting.
Every Saturday morning I traveled with the bus to Antwerp city for the weekend to stay with mother, Clement, nick named Clem and the children. The whole gang was still living in the basement of that big house with marble entrance and stairway in the Nerviërsstraat.
Every Sunday morning around 9, I had to go and buy two of the butcher’s Sunday special offer of horse meat steak, ‘buy one get one free’, so everybody could get a serious piece of meat on his plate, at least once a week. The butcher’s shop was located at the very big and famous so called ‘birdie market’, where you could buy everything imaginable, first or second hand.
I enjoyed roaming around in this market. The second hand hardware stands, which were also selling a lot of stuff out of the Second World War like helmets, gas masks, bayonets, uniforms, medals from any army you could think of, took all my attention. And not only watching the stuff, but also the specific smell around it, excited me. I imagined it was the smell of war.
Every time I left the market with pain in my heart. But with two sisters crying to go home and a toddler who threatened to pee in his pants, I was not given another choice.
It was more or less a game for me to discover each time, another road to get back home to my mother’s. Of course, it does not have to be said that sometimes I got so far off the track that I had no clue anymore where I was.
Once I stood in front of an impressive building, I had never seen before. It looked like a big palace. While I worried how to get home from there, my siblings were running after each other, jumping around like monkeys on the lawn. A man in a long black coat appeared, suddenly. He warned me that walking on, let alone playing on the grass was forbidden. I asked him what was inside the big building. He replied, ‘nothing for a loafer like you’ and walked away. I felt insulted and showed the finger behind his back.
Not knowing if I had to go left or right, I asked a passing by elderly woman, how to get to the Nerviërsstraat. She explained while pointing her finger to the cross road, how we had to go.
Back home, on arrival, Mother scolded me and Clem abused me from his bed, because we were much too late with the horse steaks. I did not care at all. In my mind I was still with that neo-classical building, in the middle of that garden, with those two chariots of war and an angle like woman leading the horses to the sky, high up, on left and right of it.
The following weekend, I left home an hour earlier and before going to my mother’s place, I went to the building that left such deep impression on me. I walked up the big steps till the high front entrance but felt extremely insecure and did not dare to enter. The next week and the week after, I experienced similar insecurities. I walked with all my courage in my pocket up the giant stairs but standing in front of the entrance, all my gathered courage, sank in my shoes and I walked back down the stairs.
The fourth time I promised myself not to leave without seeing the inside of the Palace.
I stood in front of the big entrance door, breathing heavily. With eyes closed, I pushed the door with both my hands. To my surprise, the doors did not move. Extremely disappointed, I was about to leave. Luckily, I saw an uniformed man coming closer, signaling with his finger to go to the right. A little confused, I did what he said and saw there was door, open. I entered it with my heart beating in my throat, prepared to be thrown out any moment.
The hall I entered looked really like a king’s palace. I felt myself in another world. I went quietly from one exhibition room to the other. I was amazed to find so much beauty and ugliness at one place. From then on, I visited the museum every week for almost a year and thereafter I stayed going regularly, for years, to watch my favourite paintings or rather one favourite painting.