Цiкаво
Це вишивка чи картинка?!
Я була вражена, що це вишивка!
Пейзажі в стилі французького імпресіонізму.
Майстри сучасної вишивки стали вельми творчо підходити до цього виду рукоділля. Одним з таких художників є рукодільниця Віра Шімберева (Шимуня) з Санкт-Петербурга, яка за допомогою ниток і п’яльці створює чудові пейзажі в стилі імпресіонізму.
Вишивку Віри в інтернеті прозвали “хуліганською гладдю”, і для неї не потрібні ескізи і заготовки. Дівчина “малює те, що відчуває”, а її головний персонаж – це природа.
На створення однієї вишивки йде від трьох днів до місяця, а деякі її роботи не більші за кінчик пальця.
After descending the slope toward the water, Michael assessed the cat’s chances of survival.
After descending the slope toward the waters edge, Michael sized up the cats chances of survival. The steady flow of...
Dad, please… don’t come to the school today, okay?
“Father, please… dont come to the school today, all right?” “Why, Emmeline? Dont you want me to see you receive...
Jane Just Got Home from Maternity Ward – And Found a Second Fridge in the Kitchen. ‘This One’s Mine and Mum’s—Don’t Put Your Food Here,’ Said Her Husband.
Emma stepped back into her own home from the maternity wardand there, in the kitchen, stood a second fridge. “That...
On Her Way to the Store, Anna Suddenly Recognized the Mother of Her First True Love in the Elderly Woman Approaching Her—To Her Surprise, the Woman Recognized Her Too and Couldn’t Hold Back Her Tears.
On her way to the shop, Emily suddenly recognised the mother of her first true love in the elderly woman...
After descending the slope leading to the water, Michael assessed the cat’s chances of survival.
After descending the slope leading to the water, Michael assessed the cats chances of survival. The steady flow of the...
‘Excuse me… where am I?’ the woman asked softly, gazing out the car window as if she didn’t understand what was happening.
“Excuse me… where am I?” the woman murmured, staring blankly out the car window as though lost in a daze....
I’m sorry… where am I?” the woman whispered, staring out the car window as if she didn’t understand what was happening.
“Excuse me… where am I?” the woman asked softly, peering out the car window as if the world outside made...
Has He Still Not Called, Mom?” Andrew Asked, Looking at the Woman Seated at the Table with Bare, Vulnerable Eyes.
“Has he still not called, Mum?” asked Andrew, gazing at the woman hunched over the table with bare, pleading eyes....