In Music on the Water, Russian painter Andrey Remnev composes a poignant visual elegy—a reflection on fragility, memory, and the unseen aftermath of tragedy. This vertical composition pays tribute to the 17th-century Dutch artist Carel Fabritius, who perished in the devastating Delft gunpowder explosion of 1654. Inspired by the artist’s visit to Delft, Remnev reimagines the haunting stillness that might have followed such destruction.

At the top of the composition, two mirrored female figures cradle a lute, their foreheads bowed in quiet communion. Their robes—resplendent with golden feathers and jewel-toned sleeves—frame the instrument like a reliquary, transforming it into a symbol of mourning and remembrance. Their presence is ethereal, suspended in an arched, celestial space, evoking the symmetry of religious iconography and the ritual of farewell.

Below them, a dark, triangular void points downward into an expanse of canal water rendered in a deep, velvety blue. Scattered across its surface and submerged below are violins, lutes, and silver spoons—ghostly remnants of life and sound now silenced. These floating relics subtly reference the objects Fabritius often depicted, imagined here as fragments drifting through time and loss.

Remnev’s signature technique—meticulously layered oil tempera over gesso—gives the painting an otherworldly clarity. Every element, from the shine of polished wood to the glint of metal, feels suspended in air and memory. The palette, dominated by crimson, gold, and ultramarine, carries the solemn richness of a requiem.

The title, Music on the Water, speaks to this delicate interplay between harmony and silence, presence and absence. It is as if the final notes of a melody linger over the still canals of Delft, echoing long after the explosion that ended Fabritius’s life. In this work, Remnev merges history with reverie, creating a timeless meditation on beauty lost—and remembered.