Wednesday, March 10, 2010
When I finished art training, I supplemented my bread and butter in fur and whiskers for the most part and that love of creating animals who appear out of paper has never lost its appeal. I would trundle around old stately homes, photographing and sketching gun dogs. Labradors mostly with some spaniels or setters and terriers thrown in. I would sit in drafty kitchens with high ceilings, watching dogs transfixed by aging pheasants hanging in larders, flies buzzing around while I silently vowed to become vegetarian.
I occasionally had to put the gentleman of the house in his place as portraits of dogs wasn't on his mind. And I would silently vow to be a spinster.
But the dogs were always the fun part as I would have them brought into a garden for photos and if I could some live sketches. And I would silently vow that I would own a handful of dogs always.
None of the vows followed through completely. Life got in the way. Vegetarianism is borderline. Spinsterhood was timelimited. A handful of dogs? I usually had two until I moved to Canada, then a dog and cat. Well two cats, one who came to an unfortunate end, the other lasting 18 years and the dog 16.
So even though I spent a month drawing cats, this little fellow had an appealing face so I tried a sketch in charcoal and white pencil on kraft paper in a sketchbook. And silently vowed to keep drawing animals.