Dimitrie Serafim

Dimitrie Serafim kept a studio above a Bucharest print shop, where the smell of ink and coffee blended into every portrait. His prints feel like old photographs—posed but not stiff, with lace collars and serious eyes that somehow still blink at you. If you’ve walked through Bucharest’s old town, you’ve probably passed a shop selling reproductions of his Florentină; it’s the one where the woman in the print looks like she’s about to ask for your name.