Here, the atmosphere has turned shockingly dark. Bruised clouds bleed streaky, gilded rain. Lightning jags toward the horizon. But in the more intimate human sphere, things feel uncannily serene.
Here, the atmosphere has turned shockingly dark. Bruised clouds bleed streaky ... The half-furled sails of the boat in the foreground are reflected in the placid waters of a small, sandy inlet.
You typically see clusters of art lovers in the foreground ... Vermeer’s painting hangs from wires, and the walls are white, not dark, and it’s clearly a different museum.