Parasol bespannen met een dek van witte bedrukte katoen met een strooipatroon van roze roosjes op een lichte houten stok c. 1930 - 1940

Gustav Schnitzler's parasol, with its white cotton canopy scattered with tiny pink roses and set upon a light wooden stock, is more than just sun protection; it's a whisper of a world we can now only imagine. I'm picturing Schnitzler, maybe humming a tune, carefully stretching the fabric, the roses under his fingers, each placement considered but never too rigid. Think of a painting on fabric, where the canvas breathes, moves, and takes on a life of its own. The way the canopy domes, it's almost like a small, portable sky, bringing thoughts of Berthe Morisot, whose strokes captured fleeting moments. This parasol speaks of leisure, of gardens, and a softer pace of life. I love how the light wood offers contrast, a groundedness to the airy fabric. The roses aren’t just decoration; they evoke conversations, flirtations, and the quiet joy of being present. Artists throughout history have been borrowing and building on each other's work; Schnitzler's parasol isn't just an object, it’s an idea passed down through generations.