A coiled serpent rises at the center of a black field, its hood flared and body patterned in red, yellow, and white. Surrounding it are words lifted from memorial plaques and Pentecostal scripture, arranged like a gravestone inscription but warped into something ambiguous and threatening. The phrases point toward faith and salvation while the snake insists on danger, deception, and mortality.
The painting collides the aesthetics of religious devotion, folk signage, and outlaw mysticism. It echoes the imagery of Appalachian snake-handling churches, where faith is tested against venom, but here the ritual feels abstracted and stripped of certainty. What remains is the stark tension between belief and fear, a memorial that both honors and unsettles.
