Latsyrc: The Painting That Remembers

There is a legend about a painting that doesn’t just reflect—but remembers.

They call it Latsyrc. No one knows who painted it. No one knows where it came from. It simply appeared one day in an abandoned gallery, its colors shifting as though alive, its form blurring like a memory just out of reach.

Some say it was painted by a forgotten artist, someone who vanished from history, whose name was erased but whose soul refused to be silenced. Others believe it is not a painting at all, but a mirror from another world—one that does not show you who you are, but who you were meant to be.

The strange thing about Latsyrc? It does not stay the same.

One woman swore she saw the face of her long-lost mother in the textures of the paint. A man claimed he saw his childhood self, staring back with wide, untainted eyes. A poet once gazed upon it and collapsed in tears, whispering, It knows me. It knows me.

And then there was the collector—the one who tried to own it.

He bought the painting at an underground auction, paid a fortune to lock it away where no one else could see. But each morning, the colors had shifted. The face had blurred. One night, he awoke to find the canvas completely blank, the colors dripping onto the floor.

The next day, he was forgotten.

No one spoke his name again. No records of him existed. As if he had never been.

And Latsyrc? It was waiting again, for the next soul who dared to look.

Perhaps that is why you are here now.

Perhaps it has been waiting for you.

Sigurlína

ólafsdóttir I I

Euphoria II

Floats
$123.000

I

I

The painting was simply titled "Shadow." A naked woman, her form bathed in shades of gray and black, lay curled on a bed of darkness. Her body was unfinished—lines and curves blurred into one another, as though the paint itself was hesitant to define her fully.

Elias, the artist, had painted her after an encounter he couldn’t explain. He found her one rainy evening in the streets—strange, silent, and beautiful in a way that unsettled him. She never spoke, never offered her name, yet as they locked eyes, she seemed to tell him something without a word. That night, she disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

But she left him with an image that haunted him, an image of her—naked and alone—wrapped in shadows. Over the following weeks, Elias painted her again and again, unable to capture her face, but always the sense that she wasn’t quite real, that something was wrong.

When the painting was finally finished, he realized something terrifying: it wasn’t her he had painted. It was the absence of her—the feeling of someone who should be there, but wasn’t. In the moment he stood before the canvas, it hit him: she had never been real. She was the shadow he had created to escape his loneliness.

The painting wasn’t a portrait. It was a doorway—a quiet invitation to the void she had come from. The audience who saw it felt the same pull, the same discomfort. No one could ever forget her, because she was not just on the canvas—she was in them, lurking in the shadows of their minds, waiting.

Sigurlína ólafsdóttir

Everlasting
III Naked
$154.000