I've been enjoying painting dogs this week, both in my sketchbook and in larger paintings. I've also been reading several books on wolves, coyotes, and foxes; I always love learning about wild canids.
I'm still recovering from my concussion and can't do a whole lot of any one thing before I have to either rest or switch to some activity that uses a different part of my brain. Painting seems to tire me less than pretty much anything else, so I've been doing a fair amount of it, especially when I need to calm my mind. I've been painting dogs for the past few days, but we just got 17 inches of snow and it's still snowing hard, so I'll probably be trying my hand at snow scenes soon.
Here's Gomez, the sweet Basset Hound I painted a while ago. I decided to do another painting from the same photo but make a few changes in emphasis and background.
Then I painted my sweet Beagle boy, Milo. This was done using a reference photo of him lying on my lap looking up at my face. I love painting Milo and am now working on another of him using a paper with a different surface to get a different effect.
And here are some African Wild Dog or Painted Dog sketches, using Arielle's photos from her trip to South Africa last summer. I still don't have the proportions quite right, but I'm going to keep practicing these until I have a feel for them. As with most of my paintings, these are done with just watercolor, without sketching beforehand. I was inspired to paint these Wild Dogs both by Arielle's photos and by a blog entry by Alison Nicholls, a watercolor artist who paints many African animals and who did a recent blog post about Painted Dogs.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
A Relaxing Day in My Studio
Painting relaxes me in a way little else does, and sometimes I just can't (or don't want to) put down my brushes for hours at a time. Last night I painted until late and today I spent this sunny day in my bright studio playing with a variety of subjects and styles.
Bearded Collies-- I'm in the mood to paint shaggy dogs
An elegant adult in the snow
Fuzzy Beardie puppy
A Bible verse I was meditating on
African Wild Dog sketch using a photo of Arielle's. The dog was sitting in a puddle of water.
Valentine's flowers from Stephen in different light and in different styles.
At night under artificial lighting
In natural daylight-- it fascinates me the way blue flowers, especially, look different in different lighting.
Bearded Collies-- I'm in the mood to paint shaggy dogs
An elegant adult in the snow
Fuzzy Beardie puppy
A Bible verse I was meditating on
African Wild Dog sketch using a photo of Arielle's. The dog was sitting in a puddle of water.
Valentine's flowers from Stephen in different light and in different styles.
At night under artificial lighting
In natural daylight-- it fascinates me the way blue flowers, especially, look different in different lighting.
Friday, February 19, 2010
Scattered Sketches
I usually have several paintings going at one time (just as I'm reading several books at a time), and I switch back and forth to whatever I feel inclined to paint. Here are a variety of sketches I've done recently.
Some quick, simple sketches of African mammals, using a friend's photos.
A neighbor called to say she'd had an owl spending the days in her trees, so I went over a couple of times to photograph him. It was too cold to stay outside to sketch him, but I'm hoping to get back and do that if he's still there. Here are a variety of sketches done to get a feel for the owl and just for fun.
While waiting to meet a friend at the Walkway Over the Hudson, I started a quick tree sketch in the parking lot, then finished it after our walk. I love the shapes and details of winter trees and would like to do a series of paintings or ink drawings of them. The sun shining on this tree especially caught my eye.
Some quick, simple sketches of African mammals, using a friend's photos.
A neighbor called to say she'd had an owl spending the days in her trees, so I went over a couple of times to photograph him. It was too cold to stay outside to sketch him, but I'm hoping to get back and do that if he's still there. Here are a variety of sketches done to get a feel for the owl and just for fun.
While waiting to meet a friend at the Walkway Over the Hudson, I started a quick tree sketch in the parking lot, then finished it after our walk. I love the shapes and details of winter trees and would like to do a series of paintings or ink drawings of them. The sun shining on this tree especially caught my eye.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Valentine's Day: Celebrating the Simple and Ordinary Moments of Our Life Together
Sitting together by a crackling fire or a glowing woodstove.
Hiking, exploring, and sharing breathtaking views.
Sitting together on a remote ledge, you reading aloud to me...
and me painting.
Enjoying wild blueberry patches at Minnewaska.
Enjoying lively discussions and fun family time with Nathaniel, Jonathan, and Arielle
Laughing together as we watch our dogs play chase.
Happy Valentine's Day, Stephen! I love you!
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Moments of Connection, some Memorable, all Meaningful
Milo is a comfort-loving Beagle and is rarely found resting anywhere other than on a soft surface. A dog bed, an armchair if I've forgotten to cover it, a lap (best of all). Occasionally he'll lie in a sunny spot on a rug, but generally only if there's strong sunlight streaming in or a warm fire crackling nearby.
Last night I was on the couch reading and looked up to see Milo sitting quietly in front of me, patiently waiting for me to notice him. When he saw that I was looking, he met my eyes, then moved his to glance briefly at my lap, then back at my eyes. He repeated his silent request once more, then just held my gaze. I don't know how anyone could resist such a sweet, clear, polite communication. I certainly can't, and I smiled, which Milo correctly interpreted as an invitation to leap on my lap and curl up.
I hit my head hard a few days ago and have a concussion and thus have been on the couch most of the time. Sometimes lying with Milo on my chest, sometimes sitting with him on my lap, but mostly just by myself, because I can't deal with much stimulation of any sort right now, even the slight movements of a warm, snuggly Beagle. I just woke up from a semi-nap and looked down to see my sweet Beagle Boy lying, curled in a tight ball, on the floor beside my head. Not a comfortable spot for him, not anywhere he ordinarily sleeps, but as close to me as he could be. Of course, that earned him another invitation to hop up.
These moments with Milo remind me of similar moments with past dogs. Willow's eyes-- dark brown eyes with black "eyeliner" around them, following me everywhere as I walked around the house. Willow would curl in a tight ball and rest his muzzle across his back, then watch me. I'll always remember those sweet, dark eyes following my every movement. The last night of Willow's life, when I knew I'd be taking him for his final trip to the vet the next morning, I slept on the couch and he slept curled up beside me, my hand resting on his back. We both just wanted the comfort of being close, I because I knew what was coming and Willow because his place, as always, was by my side.
I am also remembering Fleeber's last day, which makes me think back on my years with her. She and I had over fifteen wonderful years together. Years packed full of adventure, learning, change, and connection. Fleeber accompanied me to college classes, ran miles beside my bike before dawn to get to my goat herding job in time for morning milkings (where she helped me herd the goats to the milking parlor), adjusted with me to Steve's and my marriage, welcomed the children and, in many ways, we grew up together. Perhaps I'll write another post just about Fleeber, because there is much to reminisce on and tell about her life.
During Fleeber's last couple of days, she stopped eating and then seemed to sink into a coma. She was entirely unresponsive, but didn't seem to be suffering in any way, so I kept her warm and comfortable and stayed close.
As Friday afternoon stretched on, Fleeber suddenly lifted her head, then pulled herself to her feet and headed for the door. Astonished, I carried her out to the grass, thinking she had awakened to relieve herself, but no, she headed with faltering but deliberate steps for my car, then collapsed by the door. Did she somehow know that soon we'd be heading out for the children's soccer practices? We hadn't even started to prepare, and I had been worrying about leaving Fleeber for that time, but she was clearly stating that she was going with us. I made a soft nest for her on the seat, then went in to help the children get ready.
While the children practiced soccer, I stroked my once more unresponsive dog, who now lay limply curled on the seat of my car. At one point I got out to stretch my legs and clear my head for a minute, then went back. I leaned in and Fleeber opened her eyes, searching till she met mine. As I gazed into my old dog's familiar eyes, her pupils slowly expanded... then she was gone... a sweet good-bye, a moment I will always hold in my heart.
Last night I was on the couch reading and looked up to see Milo sitting quietly in front of me, patiently waiting for me to notice him. When he saw that I was looking, he met my eyes, then moved his to glance briefly at my lap, then back at my eyes. He repeated his silent request once more, then just held my gaze. I don't know how anyone could resist such a sweet, clear, polite communication. I certainly can't, and I smiled, which Milo correctly interpreted as an invitation to leap on my lap and curl up.
I hit my head hard a few days ago and have a concussion and thus have been on the couch most of the time. Sometimes lying with Milo on my chest, sometimes sitting with him on my lap, but mostly just by myself, because I can't deal with much stimulation of any sort right now, even the slight movements of a warm, snuggly Beagle. I just woke up from a semi-nap and looked down to see my sweet Beagle Boy lying, curled in a tight ball, on the floor beside my head. Not a comfortable spot for him, not anywhere he ordinarily sleeps, but as close to me as he could be. Of course, that earned him another invitation to hop up.
These moments with Milo remind me of similar moments with past dogs. Willow's eyes-- dark brown eyes with black "eyeliner" around them, following me everywhere as I walked around the house. Willow would curl in a tight ball and rest his muzzle across his back, then watch me. I'll always remember those sweet, dark eyes following my every movement. The last night of Willow's life, when I knew I'd be taking him for his final trip to the vet the next morning, I slept on the couch and he slept curled up beside me, my hand resting on his back. We both just wanted the comfort of being close, I because I knew what was coming and Willow because his place, as always, was by my side.
I am also remembering Fleeber's last day, which makes me think back on my years with her. She and I had over fifteen wonderful years together. Years packed full of adventure, learning, change, and connection. Fleeber accompanied me to college classes, ran miles beside my bike before dawn to get to my goat herding job in time for morning milkings (where she helped me herd the goats to the milking parlor), adjusted with me to Steve's and my marriage, welcomed the children and, in many ways, we grew up together. Perhaps I'll write another post just about Fleeber, because there is much to reminisce on and tell about her life.
During Fleeber's last couple of days, she stopped eating and then seemed to sink into a coma. She was entirely unresponsive, but didn't seem to be suffering in any way, so I kept her warm and comfortable and stayed close.
As Friday afternoon stretched on, Fleeber suddenly lifted her head, then pulled herself to her feet and headed for the door. Astonished, I carried her out to the grass, thinking she had awakened to relieve herself, but no, she headed with faltering but deliberate steps for my car, then collapsed by the door. Did she somehow know that soon we'd be heading out for the children's soccer practices? We hadn't even started to prepare, and I had been worrying about leaving Fleeber for that time, but she was clearly stating that she was going with us. I made a soft nest for her on the seat, then went in to help the children get ready.
While the children practiced soccer, I stroked my once more unresponsive dog, who now lay limply curled on the seat of my car. At one point I got out to stretch my legs and clear my head for a minute, then went back. I leaned in and Fleeber opened her eyes, searching till she met mine. As I gazed into my old dog's familiar eyes, her pupils slowly expanded... then she was gone... a sweet good-bye, a moment I will always hold in my heart.
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