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In the song, "You are a tourist " by the band, Deathcab for cutie, there is a line about being the villain in the very story you yourself had written. Does it not feel that way on so many occasions, especially these hectic days? It seems sometimes that even in the cradle of what is meant be your comfort, you are forced to continue playing some nefarious character. It may have been the writer, William Gaddis, whose work was described by one reviewer as 'the literature of American failure', who once was quoted saying, and I paraphrase, " It only takes for one to look around his own dinner table for him to see where his own downfall may arise." That fickle finger of fate sets us in motion, like some tragic Macbeth, we become a set of actions, and reactions, willingly aided by the rest of our cast members. The bleeding finger is pressed to the blade of the knife in frustration, and not with anger, as may perhaps be misconstrued. And those sharply honed,glazed, green veils, are the blah blah blah blah of blame. The original work is sixteen, by twenty inches, and to the chagrin of some hangs prominently in my second floor stairwell. The original painting is an oil, glazed mostly in a beautiful translucent purple. It is sixteen by twenty, and is framed in a simple but elegant pine box, frame. As always, if you should seek more of my tiresome tirades, they may be found by copying and pasting the url, in your address box; http://fatalismpaintingmovement.blogspot.com/ I thank you.
In the song, "You are a tourist " by the band, Deathcab for cutie, there is a line about being the villain in the very story you yourself had written. Does it not feel that way on so many occasions, especially these hectic days? It seems sometimes that even in the cradle of what is meant be your comfort, you are forced to continue playing some nefarious character. It may have been the writer, William Gaddis, whose work was described by one reviewer as 'the literature of American failure', who once was quoted saying, and I paraphrase, " It only takes for one to look around his own dinner table for him to see where his own downfall may arise." That fickle finger of fate sets us in motion, like some tragic Macbeth, we become a set of actions, and reactions, willingly aided by the rest of our cast members. The bleeding finger is pressed to the blade of the knife in frustration, and not with anger, as may perhaps be misconstrued. And those sharply honed,glazed, green veils, are the blah blah blah blah of blame. The original work is sixteen, by twenty inches, and to the chagrin of some hangs prominently in my second floor stairwell. The original painting is an oil, glazed mostly in a beautiful translucent purple. It is sixteen by twenty, and is framed in a simple but elegant pine box, frame. As always, if you should seek more of my tiresome tirades, they may be found by copying and pasting the url, in your address box; http://fatalismpaintingmovement.blogspot.com/ I thank you.
In the song, "You are a tourist " by the band, Deathcab for cutie, there is a line about being the villain in the very story you yourself had written. Does it not feel that way on so many occasions, especially these hectic days? It seems sometimes that even in the cradle of what is meant be your comfort, you are forced to continue playing some nefarious character. It may have been the writer, William Gaddis, whose work was described by one reviewer as 'the literature of American failure', who once was quoted saying, and I paraphrase, " It only takes for one to look around his own dinner table for him to see where his own downfall may arise." That fickle finger of fate sets us in motion, like some tragic Macbeth, we become a set of actions, and reactions, willingly aided by the rest of our cast members. The bleeding finger is pressed to the blade of the knife in frustration, and not with anger, as may perhaps be misconstrued. And those sharply honed,glazed, green veils, are the blah blah blah blah of blame. The original work is sixteen, by twenty inches, and to the chagrin of some hangs prominently in my second floor stairwell. The original painting is an oil, glazed mostly in a beautiful translucent purple. It is sixteen by twenty, and is framed in a simple but elegant pine box, frame. As always, if you should seek more of my tiresome tirades, they may be found by copying and pasting the url, in your address box; http://fatalismpaintingmovement.blogspot.com/ I thank you.
In the song, "You are a tourist " by the band, Deathcab for cutie, there is a line about being the villain in the very story you yourself had written. Does it not feel that way on so many occasions, especially these hectic days? It seems sometimes that even in the cradle of what is meant be your comfort, you are forced to continue playing some nefarious character. It may have been the writer, William Gaddis, whose work was described by one reviewer as 'the literature of American failure', who once was quoted saying, and I paraphrase, " It only takes for one to look around his own dinner table for him to see where his own downfall may arise." That fickle finger of fate sets us in motion, like some tragic Macbeth, we become a set of actions, and reactions, willingly aided by the rest of our cast members. The bleeding finger is pressed to the blade of the knife in frustration, and not with anger, as may perhaps be misconstrued. And those sharply honed,glazed, green veils, are the blah blah blah blah of blame. The original work is sixteen, by twenty inches, and to the chagrin of some hangs prominently in my second floor stairwell. The original painting is an oil, glazed mostly in a beautiful translucent purple. It is sixteen by twenty, and is framed in a simple but elegant pine box, frame. As always, if you should seek more of my tiresome tirades, they may be found by copying and pasting the url, in your address box; http://fatalismpaintingmovement.blogspot.com/ I thank you.
In the song, "You are a tourist " by the band, Deathcab for cutie, there is a line about being the villain in the very story you yourself had written. Does it not feel that way on so many occasions, especially these hectic days? It seems sometimes that even in the cradle of what is meant be your comfort, you are forced to continue playing some nefarious character. It may have been the writer, William Gaddis, whose work was described by one reviewer as 'the literature of American failure', who once was quoted saying, and I paraphrase, " It only takes for one to look around his own dinner table for him to see where his own downfall may arise." That fickle finger of fate sets us in motion, like some tragic Macbeth, we become a set of actions, and reactions, willingly aided by the rest of our cast members. The bleeding finger is pressed to the blade of the knife in frustration, and not with anger, as may perhaps be misconstrued. And those sharply honed,glazed, green veils, are the blah blah blah blah of blame. The original work is sixteen, by twenty inches, and to the chagrin of some hangs prominently in my second floor stairwell. The original painting is an oil, glazed mostly in a beautiful translucent purple. It is sixteen by twenty, and is framed in a simple but elegant pine box, frame. As always, if you should seek more of my tiresome tirades, they may be found by copying and pasting the url, in your address box; http://fatalismpaintingmovement.blogspot.com/ I thank you.
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Friday night dinner Painting

De Yos

United States

Painting, Oil on Canvas

Size: 16 W x 20 H x 2 D in

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$1,080

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About The Artwork

In the song, "You are a tourist " by the band, Deathcab for cutie, there is a line about being the villain in the very story you yourself had written. Does it not feel that way on so many occasions, especially these hectic days? It seems sometimes that even in the cradle of what is meant be your comfort, you are forced to continue playing some nefarious character. It may have been the writer, William Gaddis, whose work was described by one reviewer as 'the literature of American failure', who once was quoted saying, and I paraphrase, " It only takes for one to look around his own dinner table for him to see where his own downfall may arise." That fickle finger of fate sets us in motion, like some tragic Macbeth, we become a set of actions, and reactions, willingly aided by the rest of our cast members. The bleeding finger is pressed to the blade of the knife in frustration, and not with anger, as may perhaps be misconstrued. And those sharply honed,glazed, green veils, are the blah blah blah blah of blame. The original work is sixteen, by twenty inches, and to the chagrin of some hangs prominently in my second floor stairwell. The original painting is an oil, glazed mostly in a beautiful translucent purple. It is sixteen by twenty, and is framed in a simple but elegant pine box, frame. As always, if you should seek more of my tiresome tirades, they may be found by copying and pasting the url, in your address box; http://fatalismpaintingmovement.blogspot.com/ I thank you.

Details & Dimensions

Painting:Oil on Canvas

Original:One-of-a-kind Artwork

Size:16 W x 20 H x 2 D in

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Delivery Time:Typically 5-7 business days for domestic shipments, 10-14 business days for international shipments.

Based out of a modest home studio in New York, De Yos is a Painter, and Draughtsman, whose work deals primarily in the chaotic flux that is Human Nature. His work explores the tensions between this element and, technology, superstition, the family unit dynamic, and lastly, what he has come to term as ' The myth of progress'. Much of the time the work is laced with a strong personal aspect, and in style is quite expressive. Now in his mid fifties, De Yos has wielded some sort of mark making implement in his hand as far back as his memory will take him. Although he has had some formal technical instruction-much of it through books and literature- De Yos is mostly a self taught painter, yet, one well versed in all aspects of the history of Art. He often draws upon this breadth of knowledge in the creation of his varied style of works.

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