I wasn’t painting a queen. I was painting a woman who has already won and knows it. Draped in heritage, seated in decadence, she lounges with the elegance of someone who has seen dynasties rise and luxury rebranded as identity.
The crown doesn’t rest on her head but waits by her side. The swans don’t bow, they observe. Even the fruit on the table feels like part of a still-life manifesto.
This piece turns colonial opulence into quiet satire. She rules not through dominance but through aesthetic command. Power reclined is still power.