A burst of bright sunlight emanates from a large unseen window, basking the subject of the painting in a soft, warm glow. She sits in a billowy blue dress, poised, cradling a book in one arm and holding a thin trumpet in her other. A laurel wreath decorated with blue flowers is set around her head, from which her golden curls fall to just above her shoulder. Her gaze does not meet with the painter's, for she is looking at the mask on the table, hidden beneath an assortment of random objects. The painter sits on his stool, brush in hand, feet set firmly on the floor tiles, painting his muse. His focus, his attention, his eyes are only on her - his purpose is to immortalise her beauty with his skill, his paintbrush and his canvas. A large, thick curtain veils part of the scene (the window area), as though shielding viewers from something just... out... of.. sight...
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