One of my best abstract paintings. This is an incredibly wild subject/story and is also extremely visually complex. The exquisite beauty up close is quite remarkable.
Materials: Acrylic and glitter on MDF board.
Availability: For sale $1500.
The story behind The king is a fink
At 2 a.m. I was dragged out of my bed by a dozen secret service police officers, hand-cuffed and thrown into the back of a 1974 Chevy van. The hour long journey was like being in a washing machine as the driver swerved wildly in order to rough me up.
The reason for my arrest – the day before I had shouted that the “king is a fink!”
Looking like I had been through a tornado, covered in bruises from head to toe, I was yanked out of the van. Two burly secret service agents then proceeded to march me up to the throne room of the king of the United States of America.
Kicking at my captors and cursing a stream of insults I was unceremoniously dumped before the feet of the fake king. Hand cuffs were removed and I was kicked in order to get me to stand before the mighty king. I took a quick look around the room. There were around two dozen of the kings closest advisers, all of them stood quietly with a smirk on their face. They stared at me – the usurper.
“So this is the anarchist!” the king commanded in a mocking tone.
I turned to face him. He was old, wrinkled and glowed a bright orange, except around the eyes, which were pale pink. His toupee sat on his head half-cocked, and he seemed oblivious to how he looked. Sad clown. Mad, deranged orange king.
I took a deep breath, before I answered. “Yes this is the anarchist who dared to curse the o’mighty king. I am a man who challenges your authority.”
I paused before offering “And I challenge you to a fight!”
The kings eyes squinted, he looked at me, then looked to his left and right at his key advisers. I saw several generals give a quick nod.
The king rose from his thrown, throwing his elegant robe to the ground.
“I accept your challenge!” he shouted.
He lunged at me and just as he came close I side stepped him. Hey cursed and turned to face me. He lunged again, his face turning red with fury. As he got within striking distance I dropped into a squat, and his punch missed and he fell forward, over me. With a great explosion upwards I threw him ten foot into the air with a masterful judo move – the silly fat king tumbling through the air. Just as quick, I turned behind me, to see him land heavily on the floor.
Then the most remarkable thing happened. Just like a rubber balloon, the orange king landed all squishy and then rebounded into the air and floated for a second before coming back down. And just like that he POPPED! The orange balloon king shot up in the air again making a farting noise and flying wildly around the room. Eventually all the air had escaped and this little remnant of balloon landed on the floor. A gasp arose from everyone (including me) in the throne room. On the floor was a tiny little orange baby with a confused look.
“Ooh ahhh ahhh haaaa” the little baby boy sounded. Then his little angelic face twisted into a grimace and then a smile. He shat on the floor.
“Ahhh haha ha” He then cried with joy.
The crowd moved quickly to the little pudgy baby – the baby who lived in a rubber balloon shaped like a man. I sensed it was time to leave. So when everybody was focused on the infant I took off.
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