Xanthippe Hates Cakes
Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 in.

Who’s afraid of a little frosting?

In this irreverent and gleefully mutinous tableau, Barbie herself—now reimagined as Xanthippe—performs a gleaming act of sugar-smeared protest. Inspired by a dubious historical anecdote (which may or may not involve cake), this scene plays out like ancient gossip theatre: Socrates receives a confectionary gift from a friend, and his wife, Xanthippe, smashes it in front of him. Or was it ritual? Foreplay? Moral correction?

Here, Socrates has become a statue—literally—frozen in stoic acceptance, legs crossed and eyes closed, a passive monument to the madness he married. Xanthippe towers beside him, elegant and enraged, in the act of demolishing the cake with theatrical precision. But the scene doesn't end there. A devil woman, smoking a fat cigar, has stepped through a swirling portal on the right to observe the carnage with relish. Is she a modern witness? A daemon of domestic rage? Or the spirit of cosmic schadenfreude made flesh?

Behind the frosting-spattered chaos, a dreamlike blur of pink pillars, temple friezes, and half-dressed flute players fills the stage. Butterflies flee. Gossip thickens. The scene dances on the edge of absurdity and truth.

Socrates once said of his wife:

“None of your soft-mouthed, docile animals for me… The horse for me to own must show some spirit… I know full well, that if I can tolerate her spirit, I can with ease attach myself to every human being.”

This painting asks: did he endure her, or did he worship her? Was her fury a flaw, or a flame? And is that cake, now crumbling on the floor, a metaphor for philosophy itself—sweet in theory, destroyed on contact with real life?

Either way: Xanthippe hates cakes. And the devil woman’s watching.