Words of Wisdom

My 8 year old niece wrote this on the back of one of her drawings. Children are the greatest untapped resource of genius.

Ghost of a dog

So another post title based on a song. I think I'm going to make this a trend, at least until songs stop popping into my head every time I start writing. Today I'm going to talk about the holidays. Don't fret, the ghost reference will make sense soon enough, and I promise this won't be depressing.

One of this year's treats

Even though my after Christmas blues are an ever present factor in how my new year is beginning, I try not to let it get me too down. Yet still, the return to the sometimes suffocating minutia of the non-celebratory calendar is looming back there in the shadows, waiting to slink unnoticed into my day. But really, there's no time for that today. I'm still basking in the post-holiday warmth, so my burgeoning gloom needs to take a back seat. Even though all the gifts are done and handed out, their memories still bring me smiles.

I love gifts. I love getting them. I love giving them. Mostly I love making them. I get all wrapped up in my Christmas plans and what I'm going to make and who's going to get what and who would appreciate which little faceted nuance of my cleverness.  Every year I try to come up with something new that those close to me could enjoy - from personalized gift bags filled with homemade dog biscuits, homemade pickled peppers, and specialty spirits to mass produced (yet still in house) Christmas music CDs with painstakingly developed cover art. Yes, I let the creative juices flow a bit more in December. I just can't help it. Christmas gives me the much needed excuse to do two of the tasks that make me the happiest - making things and giving stuff to people. I would do that all year long if it didn't make people uncomfortable, which, sadly, it can if done in excess. This year was no exception, however there was one major difference. This year, I went large scale. Well, not large in size per se, but large in anticipated esteem.

A little background: a couple of years ago I saw some pretty silly little prints in Urban Outfitters of dogs and cats done in the style of 19th century portraits. They had on suits and pince-nez and ruffs. They made me laugh out loud in the store. When I couldn't for the life of me come up with anything to give my mom and stepdad last year (the two most difficult people to get gifts for), I remembered those prints, and a light bulb went off. They have two already funny looking dogs, how perfect would one of those pictures be? I was just starting to get back into attempting to reinvigorate my desire to possibly look into maybe painting again, so I figured this was a good place to start. They were a big hit. Not only did my folks think they were as witty as I did, but the fact that I painted them sealed the love deal. Sorry I don't have pictures, I'll try to get on that. Since he loved those little works of art (I use this term very loosely mind you), this year my stepdad asked me to paint for them a portrait of Rufus.

Goofus

Ahh...Rufus. The dog, the legend. Nary in life does one get to meet such a charismatic beacon of what is just so right about dogs. He was smart, funny, handsome, and kind. Yes, I'm still talking about a dog. My sister bought him or was given him - I still don't have the real story, and I don't know if anyone ever will. She brought him home on a Friday and told my mom that she found him, abandoned in the national park/forest next to our house, living off sticks and berries that he'd somehow managed to forage. Despite the pathos in those giant deep brown eyes, my mom wasn't buying it and vowed to give him away on Monday. As with anyone who spent any significant amount of time with Rufus, he won her over almost immediately. By the end of the weekend, our family had a dog.

Rufus was a big yellow lab - weighing in at over 100 lbs. He lived much longer than expected. He was over fifteen years old when his body just gave out on him. As was to be expected, his demeanor was endearing and optimistic up until the very end. The story goes that my parents stopped at Hardees on the way to his last trip to the vet and got him a hot Ham 'N Cheese sandwich which he ate dutifully and with as much gusto as he could manage. Good ol' Rufus. I was in my late 20's when this all went down, with a dog of my own and a boyfriend and an apartment in another city hours away. I didn't get much of a chance to say goodbye to the old boy, but I think he understood. He was cool like that.

So to honor the memory of this most awesome creature, I did it. I did what my stepdad asked. I painted a portrait of Rufus. My first commissioned piece. The above has always been one of my favorite pictures of him, so I used it as my muse. I also decided to take photos of the work in stages to see how much it was changing as I went. The whole journey proved trying, as I was often ready to throw in the towel completely and buy my folks some lame potted plant or kitschy ceramic bowl.

Stage One: Too soon to judge

Stage Two: Village of the Damned Rufus

Stage Three: The mutant paw is less problematic,
but what the hell is wrong with his head?

Finished Product: Acrylic on canvas 14" x 18"

It's not too bad. I feel like I needed more time to fix the obvious issues, but again, it was a gift, and it was well received enough. Or perhaps they're just too nice to say otherwise. Looking at it now, I don't think I actually finished the paw. Whoops. That was one of the more frustrating parts. I always had immense problems with human hands, so it appears dog paws will pose me similar missteps. I've never been one for super-realism in my paintings, and this time around is no different. I do have to say that I'm kind of pleased with the look of some of the stronger, less blended brush strokes. A bit expressionistic perhaps? Or maybe just wishful thinking. Some of these details do it a little more justice.
   

                                             

 

Another year down. Another Christmas passed. Another furry friend to remember again. It's good to let people and dogs and holidays and what have you - to let those facets that have (and still do) make an enormous impact on who you are - to let them linger. And if my amateur attempts at memorializing with acrylics helps me and the people I love do that, then I'm all for it.

UPDATE: I found a pic I snapped of one of the other dog paintings I did for my folks. You know, the ones that started this whole ordeal. I took it with my phone, so apologies for the low quality.

Sir Louie

The other one is a bit more whimsical - a pug in a monocle? Get out of here! I ended up framing them in oval frames to add to the antique-y feel. They were cute. I meant for them to be hidden away, in my stepdad's office so he could get an occasional giggly respite from work woes. He of course, proudly displayed them in the living room. Rufus also joined their prominent placement rankings. A parent's inclination to embarrass their kids never ends I guess. In this situation, I'll give them a pass.