This 1928 oil on canvas titled Marguerite Kelsey is by Meredith Frampton, a British painter and etcher who lived 1894–1984. This was Wednesday, picture perfect. I was staring rudely, fascinated. I turned to someone, anyone, to share its amazingness, like the feeling you get when you want to bear hug someone because you just love them so much or when you take too big of a breath in the ocean,
a gasp of sorts, but it was only me in the room and an art student sketching, wearing headphones.
The plaque at the Tate Modern has a different description:
The precision of Frampton’s style belongs to the inter-war period. Following an academic method, he posed his model with great care and required perfect light in which to paint. He gave almost as much care to the resolution of the still-life as to depicting the sitter, whose clothes are at once classical
and deliberately modern. For all his reliance upon the reality before him, Frampton’s inclusion of a magnolia flower suggests the ruffling of the calm surface by hidden desires.