The Kingdom

As always, it is my intention to invite subconscious flow, exhaust my abilities, follow my instincts, and convey that which is my vision: in this case, a visual storyteller's imaginary world revealed in paint.

The Silent Service

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist  

Tales from The Kingdom

I serve in silence. I stand resolute, stable, when all around me is not. In this moment, however, I hold my breath, once again witnessing the Scepter Of Power being placed in a hand too small to hold it, for one never really knows how one such will blossom. I have also witnessed those once oppressed, acquiring said Scepter Of Power, eagerly wielding it to bludgeon all perceived enemies into a bloody pulp; becoming what they most feared. I am the eye of this storm: watching, listening, waiting. 

     From down a dark corridor I detect a guarded whisper - "privilege" - and with a sinking heart replay a memory of another young King.  "Privilege my ass," rings in my helmeted ears. "I... I am rightly blessed!" 

Awards:



I'll do ANYTHING for Your Attention!

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

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Tales from The Kingdom

The performers took to the familiar street determined to take exotic chances, but alas, the results were the same: unfulfilling and stale. The fuel of inspiration began to wane.

    Suddenly a gust of unknown origins wafted upon them. Then - like thunder- inspiration struck! The effect was instantaneous. Villagers stopped and took notice, throngs soon stared in fact, while others began dancing with increasing abandon. And, just like that, there it was: the captive audience they had all so longed for. Coins gathered at their feet, clinking and plinking, delivered with whistles and whoops. The performers dug in. Whatever it was, it was working, and they mustn't let it go. "Now we're getting somewhere" they thought. About that time, however, the group became aware that only one member was garnering all of the attention, and so just as quickly came stings of jealousy and resentment. At the end of the day someone joked about going solo. Though no one fully realized it at the time, it was the beginning of the end.



It was Bound to Happen

16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist  

Tales from The Kingdom

Such was the magnitude of the inevitable collision that the very landscape erupted around the beasts, delivering molten rivers, and an extraordinary sky. Adrenaline surged in each being, senses overloading. For an instant there was silence, save for the sound of debris falling to a boiling earth. For this was the first time either species had encountered the other. In fact, the experience was that of seeing the unseeable: a myth.

The first growl was voiced by the carnotaurus (of course), which triggered a burst of roars and snarls! Every voice seemed to proclaim, "We are Dragons! What are you?"

What followed was messy, though no lives were lost, and - each suffering an identity crisis - the parties eventually backed away to lick their wounds. Now the young ones are told fresh stories and warned about wandering too far. As to who are the real Dragons? Confusion persists to this day. One thing was certain, however, The Kingdom could never be the same. 

I must Escape this Emptiness

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

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Tales from The Kingdom

Held by hopelessness as warm as rushing blood, I stood beside my faithful companion, emptiness. I breathed deeply of the oppressive atmosphere, just as the day before, knowing that I must move. I must rise - spirit first. 

     Relentless time ticked by and I began to see my surroundings differently. Little by little I recognized a means of escape and smiled, as I realized that it was there all the time. 


An unlikely Union

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

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Tales from The Kingdom

In-laws were silently horrified for the most part. Many showed up half-expecting some sort of social explosion. Grandma M adjusted her bosom and with a crooked mouth muttered, "Live and learn" to her snoozing husband. The betrothed couple might have heard her, except that at that moment they listened to their internal tickings only. A little wobbly? Sure, but there they stood, declaring their commitment before the world. The master of ceremonies blessed them with a knowing twinkle in his extraordinary eye, as if sensing long happy lives and grandchildren. Give them a chance, he all but said aloud. Granny P, however, pursed her lips and leaning sideways, whispered. "I give it two weeks."

A Closer Examination of Time

30"x40" Oil on Linen/Panel

SOLD collection of R.W. Norton Museum

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

My Dearest Majesty,

The hour is late, yet my enthusiasm blossoms! For at this very moment I stand upon the delicious cusp of discovery. Time, however, is a slippery fish. To date I can report my certainty of a relationship fixing time to perception; therein lies a ratio. For a year considered by a four-year-old child is one fourth of their entire existence - a seeming eternity - and therefore has little in common with a typical fleeting year perceived by a forty-year-old adult. Though rather self-evident, I think this is profound, undug ground. Yet this is but one branch, and I am following every winding vine to find the elusive flower. With barest candor, I have been equally fascinated and frustrated; however, I believe I will crack the mortality barrier of which we spoke, although I may need a bit more, forgive me, Majesty... time.

Your ever Servant 

Non-compliant

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from SMITHKLEIN GALLERY, Boulder, CO: SMITHKLEIN GALLERY 

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Tales from The Kingdom

They had come early in the morning with smiles, crisp collars, and crisper adjustment papers. "It is all for the best," they had assured him. "You'll be much happier - you'll see!" Friends and family alike had chimed in as he wiped sleep from his eyes. "Listen to them, son; they're official." He had heard it all before, but this was different. "Besides," they had begged, "it's easier if you just go along - don't you know that by now?" Bewildered faces surrounded him. Maybe they're right, he once again considered, and so had made another honest effort to behave as expected, but alas his thoughts remained his own and - doomed - he clearly enjoyed that fact. That had done it. The town Crier reported that this was possibly the worst case of individualism ever recorded, officially, and corrective measures would likely increase. "He's always been like that," his tearful mother was quoted. "I fear he always will be."

A Taste of the Good Stuff

16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

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Tales from The Kingdom

It was a moment so potentially explosive that the very world watched as disparate powers intersected for the first time. A gift had been offered, you see. To be sure, the likelihood for disaster was so high that a broad perimeter had been evacuated for safety. Still, spectators lined the distant hills, unnecessarily really, for after all, if anything went wrong, everyone would know soon enough. From the silent shadows, however - foolish or confident, but with everything at stake - one was compelled to witness this ultimate gamble up close... And so far so good...

But then again - as the witness alone knew - only the first sip is free.

Best not to Think about It

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist 

Tales from The Kingdom

After careful consideration it has become abundantly clear that, at this time, the best course of action regarding this, or any such subject is simply not to think about it too much.

Double Juicy Frog Kisses

20"x16" Oil on Panel

SOLD collection of R.W. Norton Museum

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

Big Sister took little Sister’s hand as they entered, having been lured from the village with “the Prince requests your loveliness and a darling kiss!” Their hearts had soared into the realms of giddiness! I can't believe it, each had thought, hearing their footsteps echo upon the Royal marble floor: how lucky. But what was this? The girls' eyes went wild attempting to absorb the strange things of the Wizard's laboratory, noting unmistakable evidence of disaster. And there amongst it all, stone like, sat the frog/Prince - hoping, anticipating. Frog like. “No way!” said big Sister, rousing her courage to run. "We’re not kissing any frog!” She pressed little Sister behind her. 

The Wizard raised his hands in assurance, and softly pleaded his case, his need for a singular droplet. "Well," offered big Sister. "I guess so..." The Wizard smiled, and gently directed the Sisters into position. “Right there, my dear ladies,” he whispered. “That just might do.” The Sisters stood awkwardly, but stood, and so with hearts hammering, and not before an extraordinary pause, and only after the Wizard's eyebrows went up, they coalesced their kisses into the chemistry by way of the tiniest tender smacks.

My Soul yet Sings!

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

He had poured his passion through his instrument, for it was the opportunity of a lifetime. The Royal Hall was held fast, entranced, moved by emotion to tears. But alas, the King, affected by previous indulgence, unexpectedly yawned, and  murmurs trickled through the audience like a stone disrupting a serene pool, swelling, rolling, until overtaking the artist's consciousness like a massive wave. Then it happened; his nimble fingers lost their way altogether; frozen and illuminated before a silent, staring crowd, he shrank into something unrecognizable. The King broke the stunned silence with mockery and banished the performer with a Majestic whim. 

Time passed slowly. Yet, like a breeze caressing his broken skin, returned the sounds of strings: music his alone to hear. A new melody twinkled, then blossomed until he was taken over by it, lost to all circumstance, lost to the very world around him by the symphony of his mind. His swollen eyes brightened and welled as joy filled his face. "You may not care," he thought, "turn your back, bind my hands useless... But my soul yet sings!" 

And so the Panic began

16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from SMITHKLEIN GALLERY, Boulder, CO: SMITHKLEIN GALLERY 

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Tales from The Kingdom

There had been dry spells, even drought - but nothing quite like this. "Mercy" passed cracked lips as up-cast eyes begged empty skies for relief. And so it was to be. But not so for the King; for within his court were Wizards held close, and the King’s lips ever-glistened with wine and water, as did all in good standing: blessed, of course. Socialites clamored to keep favor - anything to remain within. "We all have our places," insiders toasted, while outsiders lamented likewise. Unpassable gates cared nothing of pounding fleshy fists or the begging of men, women, and children. "It's meant to be," someone within yelled. Outside, many simply stared into the village well, helpless, hopeless, refusing to return home empty-handed yet again. Weakened bodies began to slump in the heat never to rise. That is when glimpses that had been exchanged sympathetically began to linger - differently. As from behind a veil of unkempt hair, one's thought returned to the blood of another. The sun was sinking as terror ascended into the air. Then the real panic began. 

The King's Solicitors

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

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Tales from The Kingdom

While tidying up from his meager meal, an elderly peasant was surprised by a pronounced knocking upon his door. "We are here on behalf of His Majesty, the King” (at that, the door swung open wide revealing two courtly Solicitors) “who brings gifts of great kindness." They spoke in rehearsed unison. “His Majesty offers the answer to all your problems!” The peasant blinked at the smiling Solicitors, then at the bounty presented before him, dumbstruck, for he had labored for his few possessions. “At what cost?” he eventually uttered. The Solicitors’ smiles only deepened. “Your mere signature,” they assured, “committing your eternal allegiance to The King - a trifle, really - a simple formality.” The peasant ran his calloused hand across his face and clutched his beard, eyeing the offerings, considering consequences. The Solicitors’ eyes twinkled in anticipation. The peasant, however, stood frozen in the moment - mind racing - for honestly, it all seemed too good to be true.   

The Brawl of the Century

16"x20" Oil on Panel,  Available from SMITHKLEIN GALLERY, Boulder, CO: SMITHKLEIN GALLERY 

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

Time and again, such clashes had been billed as the most crucial conflicts ever in the Kingdom's history, determining its very future. Ho hum. Fo fum. Yet this battle did seem different. For honor had been forgotten and decency no longer regarded. No means, it seemed now, was considered out of bounds to reach the desired end. Power is, well, powerful. "Slander! Lies! Crisis!" the Town Crier and Herald alike bellowed this way and that constantly, making no effort to investigate claims - there was no time for that. "History," pundits already declared, "will consider this to be The Brawl of the Century!" Everyone seemed to agree upon that point - and who could deny, as time would tell; it was.

Keeper of the Flame

20"x16" Oil on Panel,  SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

There had been no warning on the wind: no portent delivered. So one might imagine the surprise when - on a night seemingly like any other – the Keeper detected a soft metallic “click” at his back. He turned and was wholly transfixed, mesmerized, for the ancient cage had opened seemingly of its own will, and the flame of his keeping was making an exodus beyond its kept home. Softly effervescing in the darkness, as if for a purpose, the flame hovered with new life before its once protector, licking the night with colors violet, orange, and blue. Wizardry? Perhaps. Perhaps something far more powerful. Yet the Keeper smelled nothing wicked; in fact he felt teased to follow, but could only watch as the flame arose until it was lost among the stars, and though he was filled with unease, he could not help thinking, "something wonderful is about to happen…"

The Wonderweapon

16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

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Tales from The Kingdom

The King had never seen anything like it, for there had certainly never existed such. Unnerved were his bowels, his thick legs a bit unsubstantial, but exhilarated was his jaded heart. His eyes struggled to consume it all. Deliciously monstrous and cocked, it sprawled under the sun like an otherworldly creature anticipating a wicked prowl. Magnificent! Just as promised - more - this was certainly the weapon to best all weapons: the means to end all wars! For the field of battle would tremble and give way at the very sight of it. Hardened enemy hearts would waiver, fleeing before it like children. And what of conquest? then considered The King. Mind wildly racing, he simply whispered, “I’ll take it.”

The Contemplation Pool 

20"x16" Oil on Panel,  SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

The journey had whittled away at his very life. Compelled, he went on - even when hope was hidden from his heart - on he went. At last, shimmering in the distance, there it was; his cracked lips parted at the sight. It was real. The Keeper of the Temple, its scales glistening like diamonds in the blazing sun, gave not a glance as he passed, for the traveler was expected. He quenched not his thirst, but dragged his damaged feet down a cool corridor, through a multicolored curtain, and gazed into the glass-like surface of The Contemplation Pool. A single tear disrupted his reflection, and as the undulation subsided he learned; "You have done well..." A second tear then rippled the surface to which the pool revealed, “The world will treasure your effect upon it..." He closed his weeping eyes, trembling, and tried to comprehend what was happening. He knew he was dying. Then, with greatest care, he sent a long final breath across the pool, and waited… 

"But alas," revealed the telling waters, "you will not survive to see it.”

Artifacts of the Ancients 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

Awards: 

Tales from The Kingdom

Construction had come to an unexpected halt. Few were privy to what was now a shrouded excavation site. The wisest scholars fumed in heated debate as to the meaning of what had been unearthed; some attempting to attach their own names to the surely immortal finds; the King’s Cartographer and Alchemist had come to actual, vicious blows. One Priest suggested worship, while another warned of accessing the darkest of regions. Chaos ruled, as no one was in charge of the scene, and the King awaited fitting answers. The artifacts, however, held their secrets like massive stoic monuments to the heretofore unknown, astounding every eye and fingertip. For behold, what monsters had walked the ancient world, ascended into a starry night, slithered beneath an undulating sea? What had trod upon the very Kingdom? Behold!

Night Watch 

20"x16" Oil on Panel,  SOLD from SMITHKLEIN GALLERY, Boulder, CO: SMITHKLEIN GALLERY 

Tales from The Kingdom

Saws sat silent. Hammers lay idle: sweat evaporated from well-worn handles. The hour was boring and late so no one anticipated the intruder slinking about the castle’s newest construction – certainly not the Watchman snoring softly in the corner. The golden creature gleamed teasingly for a prowler, but its stealth was perfect, even as it opened its jaws in an undetected show of satisfaction. Footfalls were that of feathers upon cotton, placed with determined, catlike precision. But to what purpose? Mere curiosity, perhaps? None would ever know, for it stole away just as it had come, not even sawdust was disturbed. Curiosity then; for no harm was done it seemed, and as everyone knows, mere curiosity never killed a dragon.

Her Secret Garden

 16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist 

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Tales from The Kingdom

“Keep your eyes shut,” she demanded, “’til I say...” Not that it mattered much, as the night was black as pitch. Then taking his hand, she led him through a hole in the garden wall to a spot she had predetermined, and gently turning him around added, “wait here… and no peeking!” There was a match strike, and he felt the warmth of light on his anxious face. “You are the first to see,” she coyly admitted. His smile deepened. “Okay,” she then said, “go ahead.” Slowly he opened his eyes and in fact swooned. “More beautiful than I imagined,” he finally uttered, but wasn’t gazing upon the flowers, for the joy in her eyes outshined the world.

He followed the Money 

20"x16" Oil on Panel,  Available from SMITHKLEIN GALLERY, Boulder, CO: SMITHKLEIN GALLERY 

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Tales from The Kingdom

He was young and only recently awakened to ideals, so it was curiosity and sheer doggedness that propelled him through the cobwebbed-fog of politics. “Disgrace!” he then cried! The accused looked down their noses with astonished condescension. "Disgrace!” he repeated, and the accused began to squirm, reaching for advocates, but alas, finding themselves exposed and alone. Villagers took notice, truth realized. "Cronies, liars, thieves,” a growing mob screamed, along with worse forms of derision. The accused offered dismissals familiar to every ear, some defiant, some apologetic - all victims of circumstance, you see. For how does one shame the shameless? Scandal was on every curled lip: for a while, that is. For the King offered pardon to his old friend, one was sentenced directly to the dungeon, and yet another tearfully announced that - after long thought - he had decided to step away from public life to spend more time with his family. 

The Forbidden Kiss

16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist  


Tales from The Kingdom

Within the forest twisted and deep, in a cabin long since thought abandoned, a wandering peasant girl held her breath as something impossible began to unfold: something thought secret. As two sworn enemies emerged from the shadows, thunder rumbled and softly rolled away. Focused were the two, lost to everything beyond their locked gazes. The peasant girl's heart thumped, unsure of what would happen next. Yet there were no growls or threats, no posturing at all; eyes were wanting and desirous. Slowly, the young golden temptress stepped forward, giving herself to the scarred brute before her. Rain tapped the roof as they kissed with the softest tenderness. The peasant girl smiled from the shadows despite herself, her heart given over to something infectious, for it seemed that there was something amorous in the very air. 

Keeper of the Red Jinn 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

Within the mountain deep, the dark hall had been calm for so long that it was difficult to conceive the horror and mayhem once let loose upon the villagers below. Praise be to the Keeper. Praised be his unshakable strength. For those inexperienced, the young, such stories were entertainment, enjoyed as wild fantastic stories. So be it. Better that they never really know. But the elders remember: remember through tears, through fingers caressing unnatural scars, ever reliving the clinching of loved ones' misshapen bodies, lifeless and cold. And for what? Only dull aching hearts were left to wonder. And yet it had seemed so wonderful at first. Gifts were given freely, or so it had seemed. In short time, however, such treasures revealed themselves as mere trinkets, then as reminders of foolishness to be buried from view. But remnants yet remain: remnants in the form of graves, nightmares, unnatural scars, and wild fantastic stories. 

Praise be to the Keeper.

Blood like a River 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist  

Tales from The Kingdom

Honor? What was such compared to love? To overwhelming desire? The Soldier knew the price of approaching so boldly, of intervening again into the lives of so wealthy a home after so long abroad. Warm breaths vaporized in the cold moonlight. The Soldier dismounted and kneeled, calm, vulnerable, openly making a full appeal to the girl of his sweetest memory. Having survived the unimaginable, he was willing to die for her. The Husband drew his exquisite weapon and paused, displaying the quality of the blade. Fear-honor-love had merged, and only action remained in question, but the look on every face made it certain that there would be blood fouling the delicate snow at their feet this night, blood like a veritable river.  

Slipping a Snare 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Tales from The Kingdom

Its approach was careful as it considered an aroma wafting from a modest goblet: different nectar that it was in these hills. The creature had detected it from high above, curious, having smelled it before and heard the promises delivered by a single sip. Many had partaken and proclaimed it wonderful: life changing. Others had  declared it horrid: evil, in fact. Some had been fed it from birth, and warned of addiction with no hope of escape or freedom. One called the other stupid; the other called the one an idiot. What was one to think? Risky, for certain, but there was a cost to everything, wasn't there? Besides, was risk not part of life itself? As if granting prime contemplative opportunity, nothing made a single sound, when from high in the hills a gentle breeze brought the aroma of its own familiar nectar brewing away. The creature inhaled deeply, comparing the two, smiled, and made its way home. 

Midnight at the Oasis 

16"x20" Oil on Panel,  Available from SMITHKLEIN GALLERY, Boulder, CO: SMITHKLEIN GALLERY 

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

The night had grown quiet but for the occasional rustle of tent walls and soft shifting of sand. Snoring somewhere to be sure, but there was no more sinuous music or swaying of sultry bodies by lamplight, no more teasing glimpses caught through sheer adornments. No more seduction. It was always the same. The vixens had vanished like smoke - a mirage - just as the guests’ carousing had subsided: given to slumber of one form or another, only to awaken penniless and changed forever. Always the same. For only the animals truly rested, milling about calmly, healing, feeding, paying little heed to the magic let loose in the air. 

This might Sting a Little 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Tales from The Kingdom

Desperation had brought them here, for certainly nothing else would. Without a touch, the weathered door had opened slightly, remaining invitingly ajar, and so they entered. It had been a long journey, and garments clung to sweaty backs as they stepped into the bizarre room. Hearts pounded as they surveyed the irregular walls and strange instruments hanging there, wondering how anything could be cured by such means. Then, ghostlike, the Doctor delivered herself into a corner, showing irrepressible delight in being discovered by her guests, and their discomfort. Hearts hammered, but no one said a word, transfixed as they were by her magnetic eyes and unnerving, knowing grin. In her own sweet time, she finally asked, "How may I be of service?" 

A most Perfect Potion 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, Available from the Artist 

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

Sweet was the stuff, hanging thick upon the tongue like dark delicious syrup. No turning back now. Just as the fluid seeped into the pores to do its business, panic - regret - bit sharply, but just as quickly gave way to giddiness as breaths eased in and out. Familiar existence was lost as unexpected angular waves delivered lifetimes of experience, as prescient visions played beyond the scope of physical eyes, providing revelation, rapture, and disbelief simultaneously. Exactly as promised, more or less. Only as required, of course.

For the Love of a Milkmaid 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Tales from The Kingdom

Timely indeed was Sir Knight, for he seemed precisely on cue and was very well equipped to dispatch a simple juvenile delinquent. The bothersome brat. Why must there ever be a pestilence upon the land, lurking, sniffing the air, harassing simple folk? But alas, all would be well here. A knowing smile cracked, further expressed only in loving eyes. Sir Knight fought with style and zeal - a performance one might even say. And done! Dismissing himself with the utmost propriety, he then made a slow, grand exit out of sight. Thank all goodness for Sir Knight, thank goodness for his timing. For perfect timing, it was. Perfect. But on second thought... perhaps a bit too perfect. For how had he arrived so quickly?

Now we Wait... 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Tales from The Kingdom  

The aroma was unnatural, acrid, and a bit stinging to the senses: worse than before to be more precise, yet it infused the laboratory with a fresh sense of anticipation. Would it work this time? The Wizard certainly seemed to think so - said so - before he stepped back several paces. "Don't touch anything," he warned from the corner, and none did. Waiting... Waiting... Eyes fixed and eager widened as the tiniest of bubbles appeared, preceding a stirring movement within the dark fluid. Then all became still once more. There was a long thoughtful pause. "Well..." the Wizard finally responded. "Now we're getting somewhere." 

Keeper of Time 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

No one knows the particular transmissions that travel between the head and heart of a dragon, and certainly not one such as this. Solitary in the world, charged for all eternity with a singular task, a Keeper knows nothing else. They are few, and feared. And yet, even so, within a breath's reach of eternal agony someone or something had done the unthinkable; for the delicate trickle of time had been stopped. Rage shook the fortified walls, filling the night air with dread, informing the village and beyond. Yet how had this come to pass? For what purpose? Activity, as known, had somehow ceased. 

And - for that matter - just how long had it been so? 

The King is Dead 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

An accident? Perhaps. Regardless, it had happened so swiftly that no one really knew for sure. Guards that had gone lax amid reverie and celebration now stood stoic and pale. Eyes once admiring dancers now focused fully upon the lifeless King at the foot of the Monument of Old. As news spread the entire Kingdom let out a gasp, followed by a drawn collective moan, for he had been a good ruler; not always the case. Investigators scrambled; they would get to the bottom of this. There would be retribution, but that time was not now. Now was a time for reflection. The heir had long been disputed.  

Where do we go from here?

The Kingdom: Invaded 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom  

Dawn broke that day as a backdrop to chaos and confusion. An unfamiliar fear sank deep within the bowels of scarred, hardened bodies. Once incessant squabbling had ceased altogether, congealing however briefly into an apprehensive wall of scowling solidarity. Bitter enemies now stood shoulder to shoulder without a checking sidelong glance: eyes forward, teeth bared, mouths agape to incinerate the unknown thing. For what stuff was this? What had born such horrific screams and rolling roars? No one knew. An alien engine then loosed a low unnatural hum, and all fell silent as each witness gauged the value of a moment never experienced before - then the real chaos began.

Swoon 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD  

Tales from The Kingdom 

Immersion complete, and delicious it was: soaring, falling, floating. Uncontained infinite joy filled the very universe - heartbeat after hammering heartbeat - a bursting radiant existence was now realized. Overwhelmed, drowning in pleasure, he was given over to another - vulnerable, beyond all self control, and yet loved it so.

And so he swam in it...

The Trolls' Treasure 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

Glimpsed in the darkest of caverns, a veritable fortune of ill-gotten wealth lay about glistening, only to be fondled, caressed, and coveted by joyless empty hearts. Never enough, think Trolls, if they actually think at all. Pointless, it seems. For what need have Trolls of currency? What do they know of value? Trolls need little more than a dank place and an occasional goat to nibble on. Yet they ever continue, compelled by means of some internal unknown ticking: keenly - if only at such matters - sleeping in shifts and welcoming questionable company.

Keys to The Kingdom 

16"x20" Oil on Panel

SOLD collection of R.W. Norton Museum 

Awards:

International Guild of Realism's Masterworks Museum Tour, 2015/2016

Finalist - The Artist's Magazine 30th Annual Art Competition, 2013

Tales from The Kingdom

And so it came to this, as everyone knew that it would, for alas, there can be only one. Assurances had been delivered in confident, whispered tones. Rumors had been loosed loudly, yes, seeding bad intentions, fertilized by those seeking favor. Chests puffed and pounded had sent reverberations down dusty corridors, curling around ancient columns. Real concerns were swallowed, kept secret, for there was oh so much at stake. Now, however, the collision was at hand, and shadows filled with eager eyes, hearts pounding with anticipation. For anything could happen, of course, and no one was going to miss it…

Off with Their Heads! 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom 

No one uttered a sound. As for the Jester, he choked on his own colliding thoughts, mouth agape, wishing only to dissolve into the shadows. The Queen stood motionless, unreadable, cold as a midnight tombstone within the crimson result of her action. Increasingly unpredictable, who could really say why she had acted so? Senseless, it seemed, as if she simply wished to bathe in the blood of her power. Her Majesty  seemed satisfied by the silence following the thump upon the floor. Silence. There ever after, none approached with anything but practiced masks and nervous, hopeful smiles. What else was one to do? For there had been no such carnage for a dragon’s age, and capable utensils were ever sharp, and, well… handy. 

Unattainable 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

The Village was amused, but the suitors did not care: they simply could not. Again and again they crooned, plied, and – when all else failed – merely gazed with burning desire. For such was the magnetism of the dark princess. So fine was her skin, so elegant her form. Oh so close she loomed: oh so out of reach. Would, soon, she offer another teasing smile? Relent perhaps? They would take their chances, for there must be a key to her fickle, delicious heart, if only they could find it.

The Wizard's Wand 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

Wretched things. Silently they ever sit. Were they even aware they had been pounded into such unnatural misery. Let us hope not. For what could deserve such a fate? The tool lay idle before them, mockingly, its ordinary appearance making it all the more disconcerting. What possessed this Wizard? What able madness? None spoke openly about the injustice that it surely was. Questions were whispered, yes, discussed in quiet corners - but only four could possibly, truly know; and these three... these will never tell.

New Sheriff in Town 

16"x20" Oil on Panel, SOLD 

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

The Village was fed up: tired of the lawlessness, sick of the rampant wickedness, the pervasive mindless bloodshed. Good folk had fallen to drunken laughter and lingering smoke - including the Marshal. Fear was thick. Pleas had long been sent. In fact, many times they had summoned for assistance without result. Reality had set in; they were on their own. Finally one stood up from within their ranks: young, untested, but willing. “Things are gonna change,” he announced to astonished onlookers. “So get your mind set to help. It’s all up to us now.”

Keeper of the Key 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Awards:

Tales from The Kingdom

Woe to those unaware. Woe to those with greedy hearts and sticky, seeking fingers. Woe! Fair heed to those with the softest of footfalls and sharpest eager blade; enter not this dark hall. Halt! Fill not your heart with craving, for the Keeper smells your desires even as they form. Woe to thee. Sleep is not known here; eyes are lidless and keen. Determined is the Keeper, and perfect in his power. 

And still they keep coming…


Trouble in The Kingdom  

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Tales from The Kingdom

Knights rode out that day, fading into the sunset with banners streaming and trumpets sounding. Determined, they were. Many had placed a warm hand on the shoulder of the sobbing Mother, caressing her hopeful upturned face as they vowed the unspoiled return of her only daughter. Madness was on display, and yet unchecked. "This evil will end," one was heard to say. "Senseless," said another, for the broken Mother had no money to extort. Something else, then, unknown yet, but internalized fears sank to unspeakable depths.

Torches, Tower, & Dragon 

20"x16" Oil on Panel, SOLD

Tales from The Kingdom

The Castle held silent, fastened like a vault, its tasty contents breathless, wanting nothing more than the terror to pass. A prodding, creeping pestilence was upon the Kingdom, brazenly open against a setting sun. From within, the huddled villagers looked down upon the massive beast, just as its footfalls were felt in their bones. In a timid whisper, someone suggested, "Maybe we should offer a sacrifice?" Glances were exchanged. Many considered the thought, but made no move to act, for this beast was new to this land, and unknown. "Perhaps it will pass with the night," said another to raise hope. "Light no torches," advised a guard. And so they waited in silent shadow, hoping for the best, safe it seemed. But, alas, the evening was still young.

About The Kingdom

The Kingdom displays my imagination and paint manipulation skill at my highest level: demanding of my eyes, hands, and brain equally. Simply put, I do the best I can to pursue creativity, in hope of being valued as an artist. I wish to satisfy the eye, certainly, but also stimulate the viewer beyond the painted surface: usually implying an event or story, often countering initial humor with lurking sadness or darkness, the result being complexity of content. Toward this, ordinary and not so ordinary objects provide metaphor and symbolism: a mainstay of which are origami dragons, dolls, and luminous shadows. My intention is to present common (primal, in fact) human concerns in a unique way. "My Soul yet Sings!" for example, depicts the irrepressible power of art to sustain the artist, which may be further reduced down to survival, hope, etc.. I also accompany the paintings with writing: Tales from The Kingdom. I do so because it fits within my notion of "creatively speaking" giving all that I can, not because I believe the paintings are in need of such assistance. So, though I express my thoughts on each painting by means of fiction - I encourage, in fact enjoy, individual interpretation. I have been considered as a realist, hyper-realist, surrealist, magic realist, and so forth, all of which may be true to varying degrees, but I do not plant a flag in any such particular area, and am happy simply to be considered. 

This is demanding work, but fulfilling, satisfying some inherent need wired deep within me. I set up my still lifes visiting the same inner-place as when I was a boy making things with construction paper, crayons, and such. That's my center, my core, and seems critical to my existence. I do all of this by compulsion, obsession, because it engages me; I hope my paintings engage you as well.

There is more detailed technical info under the "about" tab.

Thank you for visiting The Kingdom - now escape  before it's too late! 


All work ©Daniel Mark CassityPermissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at mailto:danielmcassity@gmail.com.