Who Me?

My first Pencil Drawing in a long time.

Captures that feeling when someone tries to make you feel bad for something they think you did or thought you meant. Your innocent, but all your feelings just spin.

Marching Tyrants

Marching Tyrants, to the top of the hill,

Not knowing we are all the same until,

They reach the top and fall a bitter ill,

We feel so good, tall, and proud with lofty thoughts we say out loud,

Beneath my heavy foot, cries arise, to heaven-sent,

They all look the same, no particular resemblance to myself.

Once I was one of them, then I told myself I was better than them all,

Then the fall, oh my gosh, it is me I trample,

Oh Mother Earth, what I left is an ample waste.

Sucked In

Sucked in. Better yet, don’t get sucked in.

In life, there are so many traps to fall into. What may not be a trap for someone else, can be a trap for you. They start out slow, one thread at a time, before you know it you have created an entire network of webs around you. A keenly fashioned spiderweb and you are the author.


Some see it in marriage. I will do what my parents did, find a spouse, find a house, add a pool, you ____. Kids, before you know it, now you cannot afford your lifestyle. Remember it was all your choices. You wanted to be like the Joneses. Now you cannot keep up with them. What now?


You Join a church get involved and find out there are so many hypocrites. Not a total loss, you did learn how to judge others and make your self feel superior. You go to a retreat looking for God. I thought God was everywhere. Did he get lost? Did someone steal him? How come you cannot find him? Maybe looking in the wrong place?


Go to college, pay handsomely, on a promise someone has made. Graduate and no one will hire you. There are no jobs in your field. Tell me why do colleges do this? You still owe the bill for college. Wait, you thought if you go to college, you would get a job and pay off the debt. Crazy you.

The More

So many things to get sucked into. Do not be dismayed. There is still something real out there. Your heart has been hungering for it all your life. The more. You know there has to be something more. Everything inside you tells you this. There must be more.

Stop getting sucked in.


Painting from the emotional passionate center.

I have lost total control of my paintings. I start out on one idea and end way out on another. Please let me explain. My thoughts transpired from the red rocks of Sedona to Man or human beings.

Recently my wife and I went to Sedona Arizona. Amazing, inspiring red rocks that majestically jump out of the ground, affecting even the air you breathe. Some images you just need to experience for yourself, no painting or picture will ever suffice. Though I wanted to try.

Sedona Arizona

Once I had my plan and vision, that changed many times as I painted and explored the image. At one point I became overwhelmed by the paint itself and the marks it made. The paint is so beautiful. Art talking from the emotional passionate center.


Then all of a sudden I came back to this image I had seen in my dreams many times recently. My canvas quickly changed from horizontal to vertical, then 180-degree turn to the other vertical. The dream image firmly planted in my mind of a man representing all mankind, having a block-shaped head. I knew what it meant in my dreams. I could see almost all the colors and positions of each paint stroke, down to the stripes on the person.


I saw that every person’s thoughts and memories created their own world. Not everyone had the same experiences, so each had a different perspective on existence. These thoughts kept us from experiencing life, as it really is, the naked, unencumbered truth about life. Each person on earth was instead imprisoned in his or her separate universe of personal thought. Colliding with others blockheads of what they took as true life, which it isn’t, It is only their personal entanglement with the thoughts they beat themselves up with each day. Past experiences, misinterpretations or what they told themselves so that they could keep on, keeping on, no matter how inaccurate. We can believe anything we tell ourselves. We many times are the worst liars to ourselves and even worse; we believe our own lies completely. This is no way to live. We must free ourselves from these past thoughts.

There must be something that can unite us. Allowing us to appreciate this great experience and privilege called life. All Man living on the same page, united.

Any ideas? I have some. What are you open to give up to gain everything?

So did the Beatles, “Come Together”

Unfinished Tre

Unfinished Tre

For all the finished paintings out there, to balance the universe there needs to be an unfinished painting. So I give you, Unfinished Tre.

So many times especially as a young artist, the goal with every piece of artwork I created, was to finish it. The goal was to complete beyond our original vision. As artists, we know that the idea in our mind will never be as perfect and complete as it is in our mind.

That a painting could possibly come to an end seems ridiculous to me now. So many things in life are incomplete, unfinished, have no end. For this reflection on life, I give you “Unfinished Tre”.

Look around you as you take a walk. Not everything is finished. For the most part, things are incomplete or left to another day that never comes. We feel incomplete. Aspiring for more, more, more.


1. (= end) fin f

a fight to the finish une lutte à mort

2. [of race] arrivée f

We saw the finish of the London Marathon. Nous avons vu l’arrivée du marathon de Londres.

a close finish une arrivée très serrée

3. [of surface] finition f

transitive verb

[task, book, picture] finir  terminer

[meal, drink] finir

I’ve finished the book. J’ai terminé ce livre.

to finish doing sth finir de faire qch

to finish work finir de travailler

Thank you: https://www.collinsdictionary.com/

Rube Goldberg Machine

A while back in my early illustration years I was fascinated by Rube Golberg machines that I liked to call contraptions. In my mind, the Artist Rube Goldberg was the master of these illustrations. Similar to a game like Mouse Trap, one thing happens that triggers another eventually accomplishing its goal like turning on a toaster or a coffee pot. Long before the digital age of smartphones, apps and Vivint security systems that can turn off and on lights and open doors. Rube Goldberg contraptions had to work in the physical world. In this case, hitting the return bar of an old typewriter. Just fascinating to follow along with the sequence and see how it all plays out.

A Rube Goldberg machine is a machine designed to perform a very simple everyday task in a joyfully inventive and complicated arrangement of everyday recognizable items.

I would enjoy doing this again for clients with imagination and pen and ink in hand. I drew similar illustrations in my new book, “Why Am I Broke?”. Click on the link to read.

My Book, “Why Am I Broke”, is included in Cincinnati Library Permanent Collection

Google Book Preview

It was never shared with me in High School or even College and your kids, relatives and the people you love, have probably not received this either. Because, why?

Help those around you by sharing this information please. Improve your life and change the next generations.

Now scheduling 
Book Signings & Reading Engagements!

Please text me here: 513.708.7981


Scattering Light

This was an exciting or groundbreaking painting for me. I was able to capture something new that will supply direction for more paintings to come. I am calling this new direction “Scattering Light”.

This painting named “Frolic on the Beach”, incorporates my first apprehension of a unified snapshot incorporating seeing, feeling, and the experience.

Scattering Light
Scattering-Light, Oil on Panel, 36 in t x 30 w

Like something you see out of the corner of your eye. “Scattering Light” is non-encumbered by memory. It is one big gulp of existence, clean, not burdened with thought, like a newborn child’s first impression.

By stopping the pieces the mind tries to add-in from memory we are left with scattering pieces of energy.

“Why Am I Broke”, by DJ Urig

I am very excited about the information in this illustrated children’s book. This is too important and valuable for kids growing up today do not have this. It can not be hidden any longer so I am publishing this book. Why miss out on life? It was never shared with me in High School or even College and your kids are probably not getting it either. It possibly passed you by as well. You may be wondering, “Why Am I Broke”!     Google Preview of Book

Why Am Broke, Book by DJ Urig
Why Am Broke, Book by DJ Urig

Help those around you by sharing this information,

CLICK HERE to purchase the book.

“Recommended for children in grades 4 through High School, adults benefit from these time tested principles as well.”

Why Am I Broke
Why Am I Broke

This book will help kids understand basic principles and the possibility to obtain a financially stable future.

No matter what profession or direction a child may choose for their life, money is the one thing that we all have in common.
Having it or not having it can be a very powerful force in life.

My hopes are that the illustrations in this book will help kids gain a sound money management perspective. It is up to the individual choices, plan, discipline and follows through beginning at an early age that will help decide the outcome.  Google Preview of Book

Now scheduling
Book Signings & Reading Engagements!
We are looking for parents with young children. A good starting age is 11 or 14 years of age and above and all children and parents are welcome.

The choice of illustration in this book was chosen to give kids of all ages an enjoyable opportunity to respond and learn. Illustrations by D.J. Urig

Author, Financial Services, Daryl Urig

About the Author
Daryl Urig is an accomplished Author and works in Financial Services. Considered by his colleagues to be a “Renaissance Man”. He has taught as an Adjunct Professor at the University of Cincinnati for over ten years and Academic Coordinator of a 4-year program he created. His teaching style is unique and penetrating. He enjoys teaching and helping bring children (the future) to the next level of financial thinking in hopes to improve their opportunity for a bigger slice of life.

Fire at the Lake House

Lately, I cannot really state an exact time, but lately, my paintings seem to go off in any given direction of style, technique or discipline. I may start in one direction in my mind, come before my canvas, almost directed to another approach that begins familiar and ends in uncharted waters. I do not even know how I got there and wonder if I could reproduce this approach again.

Fire at the Lake House

The painting is the exploration ground. It is not boring. It is not a formula, it is entirely me. I wonder how I may organize them in a show, though that does seem to work itself out. Like in my most recent showing, “Renaissance Man”, so many different painting directions covered in a ten-year life span. Now my paintings are becoming even more different from one another like many different painters painted each one. Like wondering who will I be today. Very liberating painting approach and at the same time intimidating in a very good way.

This painting is from a regular scene photo I shot almost 15 years ago. From my hometown of Avon Lake, Ohio, I had a lot of good memories growing up. This was home for me for many years. I liked this view and remember swimming here many times growing up, it was a cool place to hang out.

So this painting continues as I notice a glowing yellow light on the front of the house. Liking what I saw, the yellow glowing light of morning I decide to keep it. Moving to trees, rocks, some good, some things that will need more work, then the flat perfect colored winter sky. Keeping with those winter colors I see in my mind.  Then flat colored water that stated a quiet stillness and calm, much nicer than the busy photo. Made me think of one of my favorite painters, Andrew Wyeth, and also a friend I went to art school with, Dean Mitchell.

Visuals are strong in my mind. Sometimes I need to close my eyes so I am not studying every form, color, light, shadow, texture or pattern. I am always a painter. Even when I am helping clients in financial services, my other occupation that does provide me a momentary visual break. Then I come back even stronger visually, like a lion deprived of its’ prey. More clear to distinguish and see things stronger.

Hmmm, where is this painting taking me? So I mute the house and trees even more to emphasize the glowing yellow light, I want to play upon the grass in front of the house. I will use my painting knife, just to scratch in some highlights on the peaks of the thick paint at this location. Oh, s_ _ _,  that is too much paint. Wait, look, that looks like the perfect flames of a growing fire. That is at home with everything around it, even the muted area behind it looked like smoke. Oops, burn baby burn, I am feeling better, even laughing, and therapy has emerged from my painting experience. When I was growing up Lake Erie did catch on fire, wonder if that is it?

Now I am playing with the rocks. Faces begin to emerge from them like my Pareidolia series of paintings. I love rocks and painting them. I do not need faces here. Or do I? Playing with texture and color of the rock, glazing, then I scumble in color into the glaze. Later scratching in lines with steel wool so other rocks match the texture created with my rough brushwork, spatters of color from a toothbrush. What the heck am I doing? This is not how I paint. I know there is still more to come. I am okay to rest, let the painting settle and dry some as I lay it flat so the walnut oil glaze does not run.

M. Graham oil paint is so versatile. The more I paint with it, the more I learn what it may yield. I like the Walnut Oil they are made with. No turps for me. Hated their odor, even odorless turpentine gave me a headache. Healthy paints made with Walnut Oil is for me. I wash out my brush in Walnut Oil, then Murphy’s Oil Soap, then Essential Oil soap my wife gave me. My brushes seem to last longer this way.

Each time I come back to my panel different things happen. Like returning to a book that you have no idea how the plot will end. There are so many different possibilities.

A commitment as a painter to paint, diligently for a lifetime before the canvas is starting to yield its subtle truth. You cannot get this by someone telling you to do this or that. It is only from the experience of self-exploration and lots of mistakes. Plenty of failed paintings.

I never wanted to copy a painter. I would allow my self to be inspired by different painters, but never a copycat. My thought is; I should accomplish something that is mine. To add to the greater legacy of art that is handed down to each generation. Like life, there is no end to the possibilities we can accomplish if given the commitment and focus of attention.

Returning to paint the rocks, wanting to add some detail while maintaining the large dark mass with a highlighted soft transition on top.

I could not hide the ravenous beast faces of Pareidolia emerging from the rock structure. The man laid rocks where used to protect the shoreline from erosion. When they raised the level of the lakes years ago, many lost land along the lake. Rocks and stone became a poor shield against the very cold, even brutal beating waves of Lake Erie. Each rock took on a face devouring the next with one main leader out front.

This break walls fought the violent waves we experienced in Avon Lake, Ohio. Protecting the shoreline some from erosion. One day the waves could pull you under with the undertow and another day the water could be perfectly calm. In winter the water was a smooth glass of ice close to shore. Another day it could look entirely different.

You could say I had a tremendous healthy respect for the water, its’ dangers and joys it provided. Maybe this is what has emerged from this particular painting experience.

The rocks needed more work. The drawing of the rock shapes needed to lead the eye in with a believable perspective. The light and darks were not working as strongly as they could, so this was reworked also. The water in shadow cried out for me to make it a cleanly drawn shape.

I was determined to not give up on this painting, quit too early or leave unresolved areas. I had to make this work as a whole. Then I signed my name on the bottom of this cold realism painting. Finished.