2,760 Miles

"The Friendly Wolf" 10" x 10" acrylic on canvas [Click on the image to enlarge.]

Okay, I hate to brag, but the average wolf does not migrate.  He might trek as far as 70 miles, following migratory prey, before he settles down again to join a pack, or establish his own new territory.

But this wolf has traveled 2,760 miles from Miami to a city north of Los Angeles.  He arrives today at his new home, hopefully in one piece.  He certainly should.  The bubble wrap is so thick that I could have used the wrapped canvas as a pillow and still not damaged it. 

Ah, the anxiety of shipment.

This was a commission, and a joy to do.  There is a lot of layering in this piece, and many colors.  In fact, the wolf had so many colors that at one point I had to put the canvas aside to decide what to do.  It was too much.  Eventually I knew what I needed, a transparent brown.  And lo and behold Winsor & Newton came out with a new color called, appropriately, Transparent Brown.  Voila!  It worked as advertised, to great effect.  And, like a few of my other paintings, I made liberal use of the rubber spatula tool towards the end.  So far, for me, it is much better than a palette knife.


One personal joy in painting this wolf was the knowledge that it is going to hang in the room of an autistic young man.  I hope that it brings him great pleasure.  I'm partial to the unique plight of autistic individuals because, as you may remember, my son is autistic.

And for the record, my son didn't show any interest at all in the wolf.  In fact he has never paid any attention to any of my art.  That is, until recently.   When he did, it was quite a surprise.  He walked to the dinner table carrying an illustration I'd done, saying, "Look! Look!" with a big smile on his face.  This is what he was carrying: 

10" x 13" Ink and watercolor

Sigh. 

Crying Wolf, Laughing Man

10" x 10" Acrylic on canvas [Click to enlarge]

I painted this for my oldest son who has always liked wolves.  I hope he still does.

One honest fellow I showed this to expressed the opinion that he wouldn't want a wolf on his wall. And I guess those yellow eyes could be unnerving. I should've made them glow in the dark.

I've been told more than once that I should be a dog artist.  Folks have made statements like "Dogs are your talent."

But although I am taken each time by the depth of feeling the expression of a canine can show, and challenged each time by the nonhuman dimensions, I cannot limit myself.

One reason is my fascination with people, mostly the ordinary ones with everyday experiences. 

The other day I read a poem by Mark Strand, called "Not Dying" that began like this:

These wrinkles are nothing.
These gray hairs are nothing.
This stomach which sags
with old food, these bruised
and swollen ankles,
my darkening brain,
they are nothing.
I am the same boy
my mother used to kiss.

These lines blew me away!  As soon as I read them, I had to draw the old man:

8" x 10" Ink and watercolor on Daler-Rowney Langton Prestige NOT paper [Click to enlarge.]

I cannot begin to tell you how fun this was to do.   I was remembering the works of Wendy McNaughton, and thinking of Lisa Congdon and her Reconstructivist series that showcases amazing women.  With inspirations like these, and so many ways to draw and paint, how could I just paint dogs?