About the work

A closer look.

He came to collect a bride and talked until the sun came up, and the sun is what took him. Half of him is stone already, one hand still open mid-sentence, morning landing gold across the flagstones behind him. That is Alvissmal: the dwarf names every thing in the world in every register the gods demand, and wins the argument and loses everything. The gods did not beat him. They kept him talking. One JPG that prints clean at 20x16 in. The telling is the whole of Alvissmal in one scene: he wins every answer and loses to the sunrise, half stone already. Print it yourself, or take the file to any print shop and ask for 20x16. It is the same picture either way.