Circe Invidiosa (1892)

Most people see "Circe Invidiosa" and admire the deep blues, the flowing fabric, the almost supernatural glow of the water. But those who truly understand Waterhouse’s mastery recognize something more—the quiet intensity, the precise moment of transformation captured in oil. This isn’t just a painting of a sorceress; it’s a study in power, jealousy, and the inescapable pull of myth.

Here, Circe—one of mythology’s most complex figures—is caught mid-spell, pouring a shimmering, venomous potion into the sea to curse her rival, Scylla. Waterhouse doesn’t just depict her; he immerses us in her obsession. The elongated form, the way her dress bleeds into the water, the eerie phosphorescence—everything reinforces the idea that Circe herself is becoming part of the magic she wields.

Look closer, and the details reveal themselves: the tension in her hands, the near-monochromatic palette that deepens her otherworldly presence, the way the water ripples with unnatural energy beneath her. This is Waterhouse at his most hypnotic, turning classical mythology into something visceral and immediate.

If you know, you know. And now, that quiet understanding can be part of your space.