Acrylic and gouache on masonite. About 11"x 12.5", or 12.5"x 11" (I never remember how that goes)
The painting is based on the first little story-thing below, as is this from a while back.
The first story-thing I'm going to call "Two White Dogs". I don't really feel compelled to title things most of the time, but the overuse of "untitled" can get kind of annoying.
-Cast aside in undone importance, an Empress wrestled through the snow in silk. Two white dogs were her only companions now that things were turned fully askew. They kept her warm on the cold nights and lit her way in the dark. But she soon grew envious of their gleaming coats and the way they spoke to one another without words.
As they slept, she stole their coats from them, tossing their bodies into the cold to be devoured by roving wolves. She made a cloak from their fur, but it was thinner than she’d thought, and she wondered why it had felt so much warmer on them.
A lost traveler stumbled over her as she lay huddled in the snow. Thinking of the warmth he may provide, she offered him a place inside her cloak for the night. She awoke to find him wearing it. He leaned over her saying that silk was never his favorite, and then he tied a bag over her head and she fell asleep like a canary.
When she opened her eyes she was lying on a frozen stream in a canyon. She cried at the thought that the dogs would have torn the thief to pieces for her.-
Aaaand another more recent one which has nothing to do with anything.
-A non-subtle salemaker emptied his pockets into a stream of swift gold, hoping it would cling to his worthless baubles. The hungry current swallowed them in an instant, and he raced along the bank in pursuit. Eventually they came to rest in an entanglement of weeds just below the surface. Shrewd and observant at times, he decided to ask a beautiful boy passing by if he would reach in and pull up his trinkets. The boy kindly agreed, but when trying to retrieve the items, found he could not remove his hand from the stream. Both men tugged and cursed the current, but to no avail. The salemaker said the only way was to cut off the offending hand. The distraught boy was too horrified at this to even speak. He wailed of his distaste for pain, and protested that he could not go on living as a hideous cripple. The sun went down as he continued to cry and scream like a child. The salemaker grew so tired of this that he kicked the lovely boy, who then vanished into the gullet of the stream. The man sat on the bank staring into the golden water for several hours. He finally decided his action must have been some god compelling him toward an act of uncomfortable mercy. With a sated conscience, he walked home.
Several weeks later, in a land quiet and remote, a shining gold statue of a beautiful young man washed ashore. The people were so captivated by it, they had it put up on a high pedestal in the town square. It still stands there to this day, despite the protests of certain citizens who are disturbed by the look of terrible apprehension on the figure’s face.-