I think its the kind of print that changes with your mood - Are her arms folded in defiance, in control, in boredom, in rest, in anger? Is she tapping her feet, or swinging her ankles, or sitting still?
Once, when I was 27 and newly single after a totally torturous relationship, I was trying on red shoes while talking to my sister on the phone. It was 2000-and-something-before-red-shoes-became-fashionable.
When I mentioned what I was doing, she wasn't shocked exactly, but did ask what I needed with red shoes, and wouldn't black or brown perhaps be more suitable? (Did I mention he almost bankrupted me?) I didn't want to be suitable. I was free. I could wear red shoes, sparkly red shoes, to work, for play, and perhaps even to the supermarket. It was a defining moment of freedom - being old enough not to care, and being unencumbered by anyone's opinion.
I hope whoever got the lady in red shoes painting looks at it every day and feels that freedom.