Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
50 x 43cm
Acrylic & pencil on acrylic paper
May 2026
A valley stretches out to a plain as far as the eye can see. A flat green expanse except for an odd lump in the distance, like a molehill on a perfect lawn.
The Shah rides on, closer and closer. The molehill becomes a mound, becomes a hill, with a rough track winding up and up.
He reaches the top, leading his horse, hungry and bone weary. The hill was somehow bigger than it seemed from the plain and it is late afternoon. He has climbed all day.
He sees a walled garden in front of him, its lush plants spilling over the walls. He can smell jasmine and rose on the breeze. The gate is of iron filigree studded with rubies. His curiosity aroused The Shah unlatches it and walks in.
The garden is a paradise. Every type of exotic flower blooms; orchids, lilies, irises and harebells. There are vines and trees dripping with delicious fruits. Hummingbirds and kingfishers flit and dance beside fountains of pure white marble. The Shah is captivated, and hungry. But just as he reaches up to pluck the nearest fruit, a golden bird with fiery red tale feathers swoops down and lands on the branch above him. In a cooing, melodious voice it says,
“Eat and drink your fill weary traveler, for you are welcome. But on no account pick the flowers.”
Then off it flies.
The Shah shrugs, what on earth would he want with flowers?
He wanders lazily through the garden trying fruit from every tree and bush. Many he has never seen before. The soft, mossy paths guide him gradually towards the heart of the garden, though he barely notices. Now and then, beautiful stone statues appear under trees or among the flowers; maidens, knights, nymphs and goatherds.
By nightfall he has reached the centre and attracted by a soft glow, enters a glade of dark trees.
In the hollow of an ancient oak the glow becomes luminous and he sees a small, silver flower shaped like a tiny bell, which tinkles as he comes closer. It is the most beautiful and magical thing The Shah has ever seen. He must have it.
Grasping the stem he plucks the flower. Elated, he turns to go, but the path has disappeared. Thunder rolls and a harsh cry makes him look up. There is the golden bird and, as he watches, it transforms into a tall, beautiful woman. She shakes her head, “one can always count on the avarice of man.”
The Shah tries to run, terror gripping his heart he curses his own greed.
“But it seems a shame to kill you, when I don’t have a handsome adventurer in my collection.”
And with that she touches him with her wand and he turns to stone.
50 x 43cm
Acrylic & pencil on acrylic paper
May 2026
A valley stretches out to a plain as far as the eye can see. A flat green expanse except for an odd lump in the distance, like a molehill on a perfect lawn.
The Shah rides on, closer and closer. The molehill becomes a mound, becomes a hill, with a rough track winding up and up.
He reaches the top, leading his horse, hungry and bone weary. The hill was somehow bigger than it seemed from the plain and it is late afternoon. He has climbed all day.
He sees a walled garden in front of him, its lush plants spilling over the walls. He can smell jasmine and rose on the breeze. The gate is of iron filigree studded with rubies. His curiosity aroused The Shah unlatches it and walks in.
The garden is a paradise. Every type of exotic flower blooms; orchids, lilies, irises and harebells. There are vines and trees dripping with delicious fruits. Hummingbirds and kingfishers flit and dance beside fountains of pure white marble. The Shah is captivated, and hungry. But just as he reaches up to pluck the nearest fruit, a golden bird with fiery red tale feathers swoops down and lands on the branch above him. In a cooing, melodious voice it says,
“Eat and drink your fill weary traveler, for you are welcome. But on no account pick the flowers.”
Then off it flies.
The Shah shrugs, what on earth would he want with flowers?
He wanders lazily through the garden trying fruit from every tree and bush. Many he has never seen before. The soft, mossy paths guide him gradually towards the heart of the garden, though he barely notices. Now and then, beautiful stone statues appear under trees or among the flowers; maidens, knights, nymphs and goatherds.
By nightfall he has reached the centre and attracted by a soft glow, enters a glade of dark trees.
In the hollow of an ancient oak the glow becomes luminous and he sees a small, silver flower shaped like a tiny bell, which tinkles as he comes closer. It is the most beautiful and magical thing The Shah has ever seen. He must have it.
Grasping the stem he plucks the flower. Elated, he turns to go, but the path has disappeared. Thunder rolls and a harsh cry makes him look up. There is the golden bird and, as he watches, it transforms into a tall, beautiful woman. She shakes her head, “one can always count on the avarice of man.”
The Shah tries to run, terror gripping his heart he curses his own greed.
“But it seems a shame to kill you, when I don’t have a handsome adventurer in my collection.”
And with that she touches him with her wand and he turns to stone.