Description: A skeleton king stands at the bottom of a grand staircase with one hand in his pocket and a cigarette in the other. His crown sits a little crooked on his head, and the smoke curls up slowly into the dark. The red carpet runs all the way up the stairs toward a tall window. Behind the glass a blood red moon hangs in a red sky. Two curved staircases wrap around him like arms, with red curtains hanging over the railings. White flowers fall from the walls above. Everything in this room was made to climb. But he is not climbing. He is just standing at the bottom, smoking, looking at nothing, like he has already been to the top and found out what was there. Why I made this: We spend our whole lives climbing some kind of staircase. More money, more respect, a bigger name. We think something is waiting at the top. I wanted to paint someone who already made it. He has the crown, the clothes, the house with the grand stairs. And he looks tired. Calm, but tired, like the top was not what he expected. I put him at the bottom of the stairs on purpose. Maybe he is about to go up again. Maybe he just came down and decided he is done. I like that you cannot tell. The cigarette is the only thing still burning in him. It is small, and it will not last long. This one is for anyone who reached the thing they wanted, stood there, and quietly asked themselves: is this it?