So this painting actually has a bit of a story.The first day I moved into my new place almost a year ago exactly, I started painting this coyote. It was to be the First Painting in the New House. I got mostly done but back then he had nothing around his neck, so it looked jarringly empty and I sketched out a dozen things and none of them fit. They all felt wrong. The whole coyote felt wrong and he just kept staring at me and freaking me out, and I knew that I couldn't finish him then.So I aborted him, and stuffed him in a corner, revisiting him once a month or every other month in attempts to figure out how to conclude him, and endlessly unable to do so. He just stared at me the entire year. At one point I even wanted to just repaint his eyes gold like a proper coyote to stop that piercing stare but I couldn't because it had grown to become him.ANYWAY. Last night in some sleep-deprived daze I suddenly realized how he had to be finished and so here he is. If I did more drugs I would probably understand the spiritual implications I like to pretend it has, but in all honesty I guess it just goes to show that you can spend a whole year and never really feel like you've changed at all, but you have. The world has drawn from you and you have drawn from the world and we are all connected in the Great Circle of Coyotaciousity. Or something.EDIT: As spoken by my physicist brother , "Everyone is, if you just rearrange the atoms, basically a coyote".