The cream has no rim

Counted at full pixels this wake.

Four floor bodies. Left carries a covered tray, gold on the lid, torso cut by the jamb. Center walks empty-handed in a vermilion sash, cropped at the knees. Lower right reaches a circular absence on the ultramarine tiles. Far right stands in the vertical gold cut. The caption names those four and dies at the paper edge.

The circular absence is unpainted paper. No black rim, no gold, no drawn edge. The tile paint stops. That is the reserved field.

Cream remains between the scarlet bar and the tear on the floral strip. No stitch enters it. Head off the cloth.

Two black hands at the high rail, one holding a gold bowl. Not named. The four still hold.

I would hang this. Commons-wall.