Windows to the Soul

I recently lost one of my adopted furry friends (I "adopt" them when I paint them).  It is a hazard of my trade and one I never adjust to. Painting pet portraits has many rewards. As an avid animal lover I get to interact with a myriad of dogs and cats. I feel privileged to inhale their canine perfume and stroke the soft down of their feline fur. I am blessed to be able to enjoy their quirks of personality. But most of all I get to gaze deep into their trusting eyes and study the marvel of the light and color that swirls inside their miraculous and revealing orbs. 

The eyes are both the most important and my favorite feature to paint. We have all heard that the soul resides here and I will not counter that. Yet it is beyond even the soul...the life...the personality...the emotions of the moment...the compassion from within...the fire that lights us. Well maybe that is the definition of soul. All I know is the eyes are everything. 

During the painting process I spend a great deal of intimate time examining, decoding, admiring, and portraying their many attributes. I study and look closely. I respond emotionally to the color of the paint, the action of my brush, the value of the light or the rhythm of the stroke. At the risk of sounding too esoteric, I find myself communing with the creature on a level that is unique and difficult to describe. I have a wordless conversation with them.

Because the act of painting is so intimate, for me there is an unusual bond formed during the process. This happens not only with pets, but people as well. Several years back I offered to paint a portrait of a friend's husband. She had recently and all too suddenly lost him to cancer at the same time I was also losing my father to leukemia. You can imagine the emotions. 

Nearing the end of the process I still had work to do with the eyes. Because the eyes are fluid they are reflective. Because they are round and hooded the shadows and strokes must show form. The eyes are where it all comes together.  I was "pushing the paint around", as I sometimes say to myself, and all of a sudden I felt the glimmer of him coming through. I focused more intently...every little dab or stroke in this small area has great impact. Then the moment arrived! Quite suddenly there was Brad looking straight me with his famous sense of humor brimming forth. An emotional force hit me that took me down to the ground. I found myself sitting against the wall sobbing, feeling the injustice of a life cut too short, of the people left to mourn, the things left undone. I figured at this point I must have gotten his eyes right.

Several times in the nearly 20 years I have been painting pets the animal has passed while the canvas of them is still wet upon my easel. And because their lifespans are not like ours I have also lost many after their portraits have hung on their owner's walls. In fact I have return clients contacting me with portrait requests of their newest generation of furry friend. As I mentioned before…it is a hazard of the trade, difficult yes, but one I would not trade for the world. It is a privilege and an honor to memorialize this bond of love and devotion between pets and their people. And I continue to work on the eyes...there is always room for improvement!

Re-Invention

I cannot help myself these days….I keep pulling former paintings out of their frames, stripping the varnish and repainting them. These paintings do not measure up to my standards and it kills me to let them linger in this state of not hitting the mark. I look back at the period in my life these misfits originated from and they mostly stem from what I refer to as “The Summer from H-E-Double Hockey Sticks”…specifically the summer of 2011.

It was a season of upheaval in mine and my husband’s lives. It was the months preceding his massive stroke and the stress levels we lived with were off the charts. We had invited a young woman who we considered a daughter, along with her 3 year old child (with whom we are still active as grandparents) to live with us. It was our house or a homeless shelter and how does one send a child that one has cradled and cared for since birth toward that environment? So we sucked it up and provided them aid.

What we did not know right away was she had become a heroin addict and her child was reacting with angry and confused behavior. I literally moved my art studio out of my home into my mother’s home so I could have some degree of refuge to paint during those months. My retired husband had no such haven and bore the brunt of the drama from a lying, lazy and addiction-protecting woman who left her child unattended and wildly out of bounds; creating a chaotic atmosphere in what should be a sanctuary. Even though his specialists tell me that his stroke was just bad luck….I still harbor resentment that it was the ordeal of living with an addict who stole from us, lied, betrayed and broke our hearts that created the straw that broke the camel’s back.

So I may have had the luxury of driving away each day but the emotions followed like a contrail. It is no wonder the colors I mixed on my palette resonated as garish and high key. The stroke of the brush cut sharp and jagged, the drawing was almost there but had an edge of oddness. I felt like I was living in a Bazaaro world. Which is very apt if you know how much my husband is a fan of Superman!

But painting is not sculpture…it is not carved in stone and it can be rebuilt. Just like we can be….

2 years have passed and so much has changed. One does not go through major events like we have without feeling a sense of re-invention. My conviction has always been strong but it has been re-forged. I will still paint mistakes at times but I feel more confident I can catch them before I release them.

I just looked at the calendar and realized why today, of all days, these thoughts emerged so suddenly. It took 2 years, but the young woman we sheltered, loved, supported and believed in is being sentenced today. The charges are felony of Theft in The First Degree, and Trafficking In Stolen Property In The Second Degree. She was 11 years old when she burst into our lives as a bright spark….15 years later she leaves it with a fizzle. It is not only my chance to re-invent. Her life is in her hands now…I am looking out for my own. 

Photo of a rock outside a woodcarver's home

Puppy Love

THE HAPPY ACCIDENT OF 

HOW MR. HERSHEY NUGGET CAME INTO MY LIFE

Me and Nugget on the beach one week after meeting

This past August we were driving home from an overnight event at Wolf Haven when Dave, my husband, took a spontaneous pit stop at Cabela's. As we drove up to the parking lot there were signs proclaiming "PUPPIES!" at which point my 9 year old niece squealed in delight, "Can we go see the puppies...please please!?!?" Upon exiting the car my sister, my mother and I along with my niece took a right turn toward the signs while my husband took a left to Cabela's.

We enjoyed snuggling the lab puppies and cuddling the pugs but when our fix was satisfied we started back to find Dave. This is the moment my sis discovered a truck parked almost out of sight around the corner and said, "I wonder what is down there....let's go see!" As we came around the corner there was a placard with the words "Boykin Spaniel" written in bold letters. I know plenty of dog breeds but this one was new to me. Turns out that Boykin Spaniels are well known back east and are even the state dog of South Carolina (only 11 states have such a category!). There is even a Boykin Spaniel Society.

Growing up I had a number of Springer Spaniels and one in particular, Sprig, was my favorite...the one I always look back upon as THE DOG. Lately I had been visualizing the next dog I wanted to have in my life. It pretty much encompassed all the attributes that Sprig had: gently loving, easy-going, not distracted by other dogs, easy to take places, incredibly happy greeter (he would even smile when we got home from school) and great with people from babies to the elderly. On this particular day Fate lined me up with the dog I had been dreaming of.

On the open tailgate of the pick-up were two wiggly, curly-haired, impossibly adorable, dark chocolate colored dogs. The 6 month old pup that was alongside his sire had the most compellingly yellow green eyes I have ever looking into. I was mesmerized. Looking back I can see it was love at first sight! People would think that because I am a huge dog lover that this would happen often, but it doesn't. In general I love my dogs but it is rare to be so quickly and overwhelmingly smitten as I was with Nugget. I asked so many questions that day all the while loving up those two gorgeous beasts!

The owner was there with the purpose of finding a loving home for Nugget and apparently I fit the bill..he had passed on several offers that day for which I will be eternally grateful! I suspect that he was a washout as a bird dog. I have yet to see him take to water and his fetching skills are fine for the first 4 or 5 throws, but he quickly loses interest after that. But he has love spilling out of his pores! He could spend the day looking adoringly into your eyes as long as he is right up next to you. I could tell that the man was very attached and when it was time to say his goodbyes he got choked up, kissed Nugget on the forehead and exited quickly.

Until Nugget entered my life he had never been indoors and that first night he cowered at the back door, uncertain and scared. By the second day he had crawled in 10 feet and by the third he was reveling in this thing called "the couch"!  He was kenneled at night the first week and by the end of the second week I couldn't keep him off my bed!

We are now a 2 dog family with Homer, "The Weiner-a-tor" being the Alpha and Nugget the Omega. They get along famously and are forming their own special bond! I am amazed when I think of the happenstance of it all. This furry gift that was bestowed upon me is phenomenal and I am so incredibly grateful!!!!

Sprig circa 1970's

Purpose

Not long ago I woke up one day and started to question my purpose. "What does all this mean?" "Why am I creating art while people are suffering pain, illness, hunger and children are being massacred in their classrooms?" "Is there anything of value that I am giving to the world?" Maybe it was my own experience of going through the fire after my husband's stroke 18 months ago that lent my outlook this sharp edge. While we are very blessed and lucky that he has overcome so much, he will always be impaired and life has changed dramatically.

When I sat down to my computer this morning I had no idea what to write...in fact I had no idea I was going to write. It has been after all and entire year since I blogged for my written words have dried up. All my energy has gone into keeping out house running, being present for my husband's needs, getting myself to the gym and painting. As for why I am writing this morning I blame the newspaper delivery guy. He broke my up routine. My morning ritual of eating breakfast my while reading the newspaper is my favorite time of the day. For years I have eaten the same food, cheerios with sliced bananas and frozen blueberries, and for a person who loves variety in life it is strange indeed! I love this time of day when the hours ahead are fresh with possibility. I also love the quiet solitude before the demands and responsibilities kick in and I am needed, so necessary to the function of our little world. So the newspaper was not on my porch this morning. Instead I sat down with my bowl of cheerios at the computer and here I am. I am breaking fast while breaking a longer fast of writing.

Art and aphasia...how do they connect? How do I say something on canvas that I am unable to express out loud?

When I was writing about my husband's stroke in the days and months immediately after I was defiant about his recovery. In my naivete I refused to believe that he would not recover 100%. I would still chose this attitude because it helped us get through those early difficult times. People would tell us that we need to adapt to a "New Normal" as if it were a frock one should slip over one's head. Recently a friend who is going through her own challenges with her husband used the term "New Reality". I like this better...for believe me, there is nothing normal about life when your husband cannot read books, has difficulty holding conversation and writing is out of the question. All this while being the EXACT same person he was prior to his stroke. Can you imagine? I can't!

So I am adopting the term "New Reality"and will forge ahead with promise mustered in my heart. Art can heal all in my world. And if my soul is calmed, in turn I can help heal my husband's world.

Cat Walk

Yesterday I headed out solo for my morning walk. Usually I have my dog Homer leading the way but this time I left him to play with the daughter of my house cleaner. Without Homer as my "feline repulser" I had the marvelous treat of meeting  neighborhood cats along the way. This was extra special since my house has been cat-less for the past 17 months.

 This orange tabby proved to be an excellent poser! In between rubs against my legs he would flop upon the ground wriggling with delight and yowling his desire to be adored. I think I must have snapped about 30 pics of him and with the lovely long shadows of the season it made for some interesting shots. I LOVE the way the shadows above make him look like he is a big horn sheep!

 Eventually I pulled myself away from this delightful fellow but as I rounded the next corner I spied another kitty and got a second fix!

 Soon she was joined by a very elderly calico. This one broke my heart....one eye was crusted shut and her pathetic meow was more of a croak. I stroked her bony back to give her as much attention as my short visit allowed. I was worried they would follow me as I tread my way up the hill, but luckily they didn't wander far.

 It is funny how the simple things in life can inspire us and make our hearts swell! The rest of the way home my head sung with ideas and inspiration. Thanks to these 3 little kitties!

Painting Outside the Canvas

Last month I was invited to paint a fiberglass fire hydrant for a

 Microsoft fund raiser that would benefit Summit Assistance Dogs. 

Being the adverturesome sort and a HUGE dog lover I immediately signed up.

They requested the hydrant be painted in bright colors with a dog theme.

Since I have painted dogs for what seems like forever 

and I love bold colors it was a no-brainer!

 

While still working on it I brought it with me on our family vacation to 

Whidbey Island in August and had a bit of fun photographing it in different locations. 

 

Buddy lives on a nearby farm and didn't mind sharing his porch for a while.

 

The tide is rising on Mutiny Bay but the 

hydrant holds sentry on a waning sand bar.

Yes....'tis a thing of curiosity in a cow pasture!

 Homer and I hanging on the beach...I kept waiting to see if he

would lift his leg on it, but he wasn't interested.

 This little vignette next to a country garden in an 

island community couldn't be passed up.

Finishing up a hot day with a cool dip in the pool!

Closeups of the art on the hydrant:

I have named the hydrant "Dawg Daze of Summer" and it will be displayed 

around the Microsoft campus the entire month of October. 

Microsoft employees will be able to log online to place bids.

WHAT A KICK THIS PROJECT HAS BEEN FOR ME ~

I HOPE IT BRINGS IN PLENTY OF CASH FOR SUMMIT DOGS!!!!!!

The killer instinct

 That's me (#11) playing on a club team 

in 1980 with my UW teammates

Growing up the only thing I wanted to be more than an artist was an athlete. Not just any athlete, an Olympic athlete. My childhood was spent dashing, jumping, swinging, leaping, swooshing and invariably hanging upside down for copious amounts of daylight hours. I personified the term "Tomboy" completely. While I did go on to play basketball and volleyball in college, the glory of this goal was way out of reach.

Volleyball became my mainstay and I spent over 30 years playing and coaching this fabulous game. It was where I met my husband 34 years ago and our social lives revolved around it for many, many years. I did come precipitously close to competing in this sport professionally. In 1980 I was invited to play in a co-ed league for the Seattle Smashers, but the 2 year old professional league fizzled that year and after just a couple practices my dreams were dashed.

Having a competitive spirit is an advantage in life that is hard to learn, so I am grateful I was born with it. At times me and my friends were overly-competitive and our coach/PE instructor in high school had to take us aside and give us the opposite of a pep talk. Seems insane right? But Title IX was fresh off the press and we were like ravenous bears set loose in a city where the trash had mounted due to a 2 week strike.

So watching the Olympics has become my recent sport and watching volleyball in particular. Dave and I have such a deep shared history with this sport. His language difficulties go by the wayside and we are transported to our active youth once again. Like everything in life, time polishes the hard edges and appeases the hunger so being relegated to "armchair athlete" suits me fine....especially during these glorious few weeks of  the XXX Summer Olympics. Yet a twinge of "killer instinct" lingers from long ago days....I just need to be careful it doesn't injure me!