Palette knife impasto, thick dragging strokes. A crowned figure stands with his back to us on a stone throne half-eaten by a grey ocean one armrest already gone, the base submerged unevenly. Waves don't crash, they just rise. The sky offers nothing, no horizon line, just more grey folding into itself. The king's robe pulls left in a wind that doesn't exist anywhere else in the painting. Slate, bone white, a bruised deep crimson. Quiet devastation. Midj
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