Shadow of Death
Here I am participating in the ancient Hebrew ritual of Jazzercise, apparently. Honestly, I'm Jesus Christ the Lord, the Lamb of God, and I have no clue what the fuck is going on in this painting. Yeah, I get it, the shadow looks like it's being nailed to a cross. Sort of hard to miss the point when you name the painting Shadow of Death.
Really, very subtle. Next time add arrows.
This wouldn't even be such a terrible painting if you had me doing something functional, like extending my arms because I'm about to chest-bump Peter, or doing some one-handed push-ups or something. The only thing I could conceivably be doing in this painting is trying to make a crucifix shadow puppet so some Victorian douchebag could feel clever.
Whatever This Is
I couldn't find the title.
Do Elvis fans paint the King dead on the toilet? No. You know why? Because they'd rather not remind people of the embarrassing, gruesome way he died. You know what else is an embarrassing way to go? Getting nailed to a fucking cross with a wash cloth draped over your crotch. I mean, I did some amazing shit in my day. I walked on water. Healed lepers. But no, don't bother painting that. Please, by all means, keep immortalizing the worst day of my life. It's not like I'm trying to put that behind me.