Style1½ inches thick (3.75 cm) Product Details Artist grade canvas, archival inks, wooden stretcher bars, and UVB protective coating
AvailablityUsually ships within five business days. ArtistEric Brown CollectionMirovia
Description Blaze virgin trails through wilderness unexplored. Run wild and naked through the twilight forest. Howl at the moon. When you meet the giants, as you must, stand tall - not on tiptoes, but straight. Look them eye to eye. And slay them without mercy.This is a painting of my daughter Maya. I really like how it captures her adventurous spirit and unshakable determination. Maya is a princess, delighting in anything pink, frilly, or sequined; preferring to dance rather than walk; always planning the formal tea party or coming up with new ways to raise money for the Humane Society. But she is every bit as much at home while learning to fight on horseback, or digging in the garden for worms, or hunting for hobgoblins in the darkest corner of the wood.I drew each element of Giant Hunting, rocks, trees, leaves, the little warrior, on paper and scanned them in before arranging and layering them into a single image within Photoshop and rendering the image with a watercolor finish. When I first showed Giant Hunting to Maya she said I am NOT that tall.
Eric Brown, Sherrill, NY Member Since November 2011 Artist Statement People often tell me that my work depicts the imaginary. I guess what they mean is that I don’t paint the real world – you know, still-lifes, landscapes, portraits. But I don't see it that way. The world is insane. Insane and horrific. And undeniably beautiful.
All of my work deals with this truth. I don’t replicate the mundane because for me, the mundane is the fiction. The fruit in that bowl – it was born in the decaying flesh of a thousand creatures that once clung desperately to life. And even now, the fruit plays host to a horde of maggots, writhing just beneath the surface. To paint it any other way is to tell a lie.
That landscape – it was forged of the cast off detritus of a billion dying stars, forged through mind numbingly complex geological processes that spanned eons. That rock in the foreground, the one casting the pleasing shadow upon the grass, it was once part of a great ridge bisecting the continent of Pangaea, a ridge in whose shadow behemoths prowled some two hundred million years before man took his first clumsy step.
And that portrait – just thirty layers of dead skin encasing an organism created through an imperfect reproductive process resulting in no fewer than sixty unexpected mutations, any of which might result in horrific disfigurement, or abilities that far surpass anything that could be called human. Does the portrait capture the being's fathomless ability for kindness? Or cruelty?