Eleonora Stol (1946-2022) - Colorful bodies





Bidder 1972 | €35 | |
|---|---|---|
| €30 | ||
Bidder 1972 | €25 | |
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Description from the seller
Beautiful piece by Eleonora Stol. The colors are so vivid, leaping off the work. It is mixed media on canvas.
The work is delivered without a stretcher frame. The shipping costs are based on delivery without a stretcher frame. If you wish the work stretched on a stretcher frame, this can be arranged after the auction for the corresponding costs.
Eleonora's way of communicating is a sharp antithesis to our technologically impeccable world. Passion is the main theme of her work, which she develops with her vivid colors, full of life and light. It is possible to read love letters in her paintings.
About Eleonora Stol, also known as ‘La Roja’
'Let death play the violin with its cicadas over the strings of gray roads in the howling wind. I transform the cold wind into Spanish fans.
A wink to the white doves to give their joyful feathers to adorn the skin of my elusive nymphs. From time to time I marvel with my fragile charcoal along my contours and go with a butterfly on my walking stick, traveling drawing to deepen into the ultramarine feast. There I tie red ribbons to harden cold granite and then listen to how they breathe as they sing.
I read you aloud, but without acronyms I paint with provocative arabesques—lustful clouds dancing in pink lingerie under a paper moon of invented candlelight where love dries on an Eau de Vie de Mirabelle on a clothesline at nipple height, loudly slapped by round knees.
With my pictorial eagerness I experience a restless world with paint, liberal lumps of chalk coloring proud brushes balancing in my hand. I take the risk of slips, extravagant scratches and contours, blotchy mascaras and scars from the occasionally sadly crumpled canvas, but it is a cry, an explosion; I open my dream chest and her compass directing blobs and crayons and the impossible strokes into my tuft of paint. As I hope, ending in beauty.
Here, art theory has no meaning, with its confusing map of the soul that arranges souls. Art with a capital A should not be on the cutting table of stylized gentlemen and frowning psychologists. With me the Sun and the Moon shine as accessories on lascivious chandeliers hanging from a rainbow'
Seller's Story
Beautiful piece by Eleonora Stol. The colors are so vivid, leaping off the work. It is mixed media on canvas.
The work is delivered without a stretcher frame. The shipping costs are based on delivery without a stretcher frame. If you wish the work stretched on a stretcher frame, this can be arranged after the auction for the corresponding costs.
Eleonora's way of communicating is a sharp antithesis to our technologically impeccable world. Passion is the main theme of her work, which she develops with her vivid colors, full of life and light. It is possible to read love letters in her paintings.
About Eleonora Stol, also known as ‘La Roja’
'Let death play the violin with its cicadas over the strings of gray roads in the howling wind. I transform the cold wind into Spanish fans.
A wink to the white doves to give their joyful feathers to adorn the skin of my elusive nymphs. From time to time I marvel with my fragile charcoal along my contours and go with a butterfly on my walking stick, traveling drawing to deepen into the ultramarine feast. There I tie red ribbons to harden cold granite and then listen to how they breathe as they sing.
I read you aloud, but without acronyms I paint with provocative arabesques—lustful clouds dancing in pink lingerie under a paper moon of invented candlelight where love dries on an Eau de Vie de Mirabelle on a clothesline at nipple height, loudly slapped by round knees.
With my pictorial eagerness I experience a restless world with paint, liberal lumps of chalk coloring proud brushes balancing in my hand. I take the risk of slips, extravagant scratches and contours, blotchy mascaras and scars from the occasionally sadly crumpled canvas, but it is a cry, an explosion; I open my dream chest and her compass directing blobs and crayons and the impossible strokes into my tuft of paint. As I hope, ending in beauty.
Here, art theory has no meaning, with its confusing map of the soul that arranges souls. Art with a capital A should not be on the cutting table of stylized gentlemen and frowning psychologists. With me the Sun and the Moon shine as accessories on lascivious chandeliers hanging from a rainbow'

