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~THE COLOURLESS KING~

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HAGUE

*Music -Glass: Violin Concerto, 2nd mvt

~The Colourless King~

Graphite on white paper, framed

27,5 x 27,5 cm 

Collection from; "Exploring the New world designs - Chapter 2, The Hague"

The final design of the collec
tion -the fourth installment


delivery and frame included in price*
 

DESCRIPTION/NOTES

The Colourless King for in death, nothing can be divided nor compared, but simply shared.

The final entry in my travels in Hague, an abundance of historical recollection of the royalties that ruled this land. Much like the UK counterparts, so did this country have its share of inherit rulers. All praised and remembered for their stature and pride. Bringing the defining chapter of the cities footprint on the map. Highborn rich aristocracy, bereft of their human stature and traits; presented as saint in biblical depictions, taking thrones and heads as they please. One in particular echoed all around me, William of Orange, the said glorious revolutionary. Baffled as my brain was, to intake such information, I began forming an illustration in mind that in my eyes depicted this lust for kings and nobles that needed praising and admiration.

The Colourless King; the funeral ceremony of our 'beloved' king, softly and eerily taking his eternal slumber, as his kingdom mourns in everlasting sorrow, showering him with proper grace. In his slumber did he take his rotten and undead form to oversee his handling, bits of his flesh torn open still, festering his wickedness wounds as sign of his rotten soul. Standing mighty proud even in death. His posture; poise and aristocracy. The angels came to greet his death, as per norm in such events, forcefully wanting to be absolved of his many crimes, in allowing access to his spoils and splendor of the promised afterlife; with a swift gesture, he grabs and slices one of the angels heads to grace his body in absolute forgiveness. As the angelic face choked and scorned in her own tears of blood, so did her sisters in agony hid from this ceremony, in hopes of sparing their divine souls; hiding away like vermin in the corners of the room, swallowing their own tears from the king's eternal grasp. Witnessing powerless, their sister's wrongful grace of forgiveness. Petrified behind the king's coffeen, decapitated. Forever to be remembered and viewed, as an eternal statue of civility

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