| You don't have to have
grown up on a farm to appreciate domestic creatures, but it helped me as
an adult artist, to understand the foibles and virtues of the animals that
live among us, and to be able to transfer that knowledge onto canvas and
paper. On the eighty acres my father farmed in north-central Wisconsin,
we had cattle and horses, sheep and pigs, chickens and geese. There were
the working dogs, and the (working?) cats. I loved the barnyard denizens
with a warmth that radiates from a child who is totally trusting and open.
In the hard Mid-west winters, the cows' coats became long and wooly, their
faces a mass of silken curls. The horses, too, grew a thick coat
to withstand the bitter cold. I recall the puffs of silvery breath,
as the horses pulled logs for the fire, out of the wintery forest.
Their hooves crunched on the compacted snow, while clumps of pure
white bobbled from their fetlocks.
"There were the working
dogs, and the (working?) cats"
All the animals were given first names.
There was Bamm, the big ram, and Porker, the pig. Shorty was a favorite
hen, and Peck, was the mean-old-rooster. I don't recall if we named
them for their personalities, or if the name came first and they lived
up to it. They were all unique "characters". Lance was my sister,
Ginger's, pinto horse. He was gentle and shy, with liquid brown eyes,
that on some occasions appeared to be full of wisdom, sometimes mischief.
Dad's horse was Joe. He was big, strong and loved to work.
Mostly he pulled the wagon for hayrides, but he was the one who "bucked
" out the timber from the woods. |
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I have always wanted
to paint the kinds of animals that I grew up with. When I learned
pastels, the opportunity was presented to do just that. Pastel, as I have
said before, is quick and relatively clean and the results immediate.
The media is perfect for me to render the soft fur, the delicate feathers,
or the flowing hair of the domestic creatures I know so well.
"...a lovely young lady...has
a delightful plethora of porcine personalities."
In recent years, my travels have taken me to
view exotic pets as well as familiar ones. One fine woman I know,
raises peacocks and peahens. She reared an injured weasel from
infancy to adulthood. She also has horses and cows on her ranch.
I met a lovely young lady from Oregon, who has a delightful plethora
of porcine personalities. There are always dogs and cats in my life.
I have a pair of turtle doves, and my dear friend in Troutdale, Oregon
keeps a parrot, which, undoubtedly, will be a subject for a portrait in
the near future, ("Joey" is her Yorkshire Terrier.) She also
has two personable cats, Sara and Albert. There certainly are other kinds
of animals that have become pets to mankind, or tamed for toil. (Elephants
and water buffalo come to mind.) The year 2003, will find me at the
easel, pastel stick in hand, with the image of a domestic creature
taking form in front of me. If man can tame it, I can paint it.
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