Where Leaves Don't Tremble - Limited Edition Print
£300.00
Flexible payment options available at checkout · 2 prints — 25% off, 3 prints — 30% off
complete your collection:
2 limited edition prints — 25% off
3 limited edition prints — 30% off
Automatically applied at checkout.
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Limited Edition
Each print is part of a strictly limited, artist-authorized edition and is accompanied by a Certificate of Authenticity. Signed and numbered digitally.
Produced and fulfilled by a professional fine art print lab to ensure consistent museum-grade quality.
Printed on archival Hahnemühle fine art paper (German Etching, 310 gsm).
You can select from several framing options, or choose print only (unframed), which will be carefully rolled and shipped in a protective tube.
Editions and Sizes:
- 40x50 cm (image area approx. 32x43 cm) - edition of 25
- 60x80 cm (image area approx. 50x67 cm)- edition of 10
- 80x104 cm (image area approx. 70x94 cm)- edition of 10
- 100x130 cm (image area approx. 90x120 cm) - edition of 5
All orders are printed on demand and dispatched within 2–5 working days worldwide. Delivery times vary by destination.
Please don't hesitate to contact me if you have any questions, I am happy to chat.
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About the artwork.
She sits in the quiet certainty of her own presence, just being. The mood that I like to paint.
Outside her, the world keeps folding in on itself — brittle headlines, interrupted seasons, too many questions with no one listening for the answer. But in this room of dappled light and fractured calm, she holds the centre.
The terracotta folds of her dress still carry the warmth of another country. Her bare foot rests like punctuation, firm and unbothered, as if to say: I belong to no one but myself.
Behind her, the leaves grow wild and green.
And though the world beyond the frame may feel unstitched and breaking in places, she does not bend. She leans back into herself like a question that doesn’t need answering.
A quiet force in a broken world.
Outside her, the world keeps folding in on itself — brittle headlines, interrupted seasons, too many questions with no one listening for the answer. But in this room of dappled light and fractured calm, she holds the centre.
The terracotta folds of her dress still carry the warmth of another country. Her bare foot rests like punctuation, firm and unbothered, as if to say: I belong to no one but myself.
Behind her, the leaves grow wild and green.
And though the world beyond the frame may feel unstitched and breaking in places, she does not bend. She leans back into herself like a question that doesn’t need answering.
A quiet force in a broken world.