"Osiris"

He is the god who died, and who taught us that death is not the end.

In Egyptian mythology, Osiris is the green-skinned king of the afterlife, of resurrection, of the fertile Nile that floods and returns.

Murdered and dismembered by his jealous brother Set, his body scattered across Egypt, he was gathered and reassembled by his wife Isis — all except for one piece, lost to the river and swallowed by a fish. He rose again, not as the king of the living, but as the sovereign of the dead, the judge, the promise that what is broken can be made whole.

This painting holds that sacred, sorrowful moment in its blue depths. Above, Osiris gazes out — serene, androgynous, eternal, his white Atef crown cracked and luminous. Tears like silver threads run from his eyes, not in grief, but in deep, cosmic compassion.

Below him, dominating the canvas, is the Fish — not just an animal, but the witness, the keeper of the lost part, the creature of the unconscious Nile. Its eye weeps a single drop of blood-red life. Look at the relationship: They are bound by water and light. Wispy electric lines like river veins or soul threads connect Osiris's crown to the fish's body.

A smaller ghost-fish swims between them, between his thoughts. The blue Eye of Horus watches from the shadows — Osiris's son, the avenger, the future. The moon-like orbs float like lost fragments of his body, slowly finding their way home.

Painted in deep indigo, aqua and bruised gold, this is a portrait of sacred loss and return. Osiris does not rage at the fish that took a part of him. He floats above it, blessing it. Because he knows what we forget: that even what devours us is part of our resurrection.