Everytime I mention I sit on my tall kitchen garbage can with a pillow on top to cushion my finely sculpted posterior, my dad is somewhere in this world shaking his head.
It was time. I've been having a lot of joint pains lately - mostly not related to painted but certainly not alleviated by hours on my current throne fit for Oscar the Grouch.
I said I'd only upgrade if my perfect criteria were met, price didn't matter. If it didn't hit every single mark, it wasn't coming in this studio:
-Wheels
-Easily adjustable height
-Locking wheels, because, safety
-No arms
-Cushion af
-Attachment for sh*t I need to grab all the time (okay, didn't even know this was a thing until it was presented as an option)

My dad sent me about 4 links but was firm on the Vyper. And that's where I learned about all the extra add ons. And wow did I ever add onto this sucker. We took bets on how long he'd take to assemble this. I forgot to warn him I got the tray and side kick and locking castors.... he got started at 5, let's just say the garbage stool got another 2.5 hours of life while he was busy putting this baby together. 
It's perfect.
I never bring anything into the studio that will need replacing soon, so the investment? Totally worth it. My only misgiving was that I didn't customize the logo. I'll come up with something clever for that V I happily sit on now. 
If anyone needs a trash can.......
hmu. 

Tito, oil on canvas 20x16" . A special commission in progress.

I start with the eyes. That always makes them come to life and then I feel like they're monitoring the process start to finish. Speaking of starting things, during this piece I started listening to Ocean Vuong's "On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous" and it struck me for a few reasons: 1. Perhaps a dog's only fault is their short life spans. 2. immediately this book launches into the complicated life of monarch butterflies and our personal monsters and.. the narrator is nicknamed Little Dog... who happened to be the subject of my studio attentions for the duration of the book.
I felt like I was entering the twilight zone wielding my paintbrush. 
There are few things artists find more challenging than rendering hands, ears and... black animals. 
My advice? From someone who never went to art school, take it from me. A black dog is really not a black dog. If you look at the palette  I posted on my instagram story, black was actually completely absent. Ultramarine and Burnt umber will take you far enough into the darkness.

There are certainly pet portrait artists concerned with picking out every whisker but I leave that business to the laser jets. 

​If you want a painting?
There is always room on this easel for dog portrait commissions. 
Now that my solo show 'Pink Lions Paper Crowns' is up at Cole Gallery, I'm looking forward to getting back to personal projects.
I have several loose ends to revisit and then onto some really weird new adventures I've been dreaming about for far too long.

 

Runaway Foxes, VI: With Ghost
24x18" oil on panel, available at Cole Gallery as part of my August 2022 solo show Pink Lions Paper Crowns

There will be days you cannot run away.
There will be days you are more ghost than girl.
….


“Worthiness is not earned, it is claimed.” It finally clicked. A quote from a yoga teacher rocketed me back in time.
I packed this piece two days ago to go to Cole Gallery for my solo show, after painting it almost a year ago.
When the first 5 in the Runaway Fox series left my studio, for the Vulpine Tap Room, my walls were missing them, but not as much as I was I was.
So I painted No. 6.
And it wasn’t working.


What do we do when a painting isn’t working?
I say it all the time:
We kill our darlings.
We paint over the parts that we loved because maybe that tiny corner isn’t serving the whole composition.
I did a lousy job painting over it.


Whatever. Onward. I’d fix it later.
Then, two foxes came racing, one after the other, bounding across the studio shouldering the ghost fox on the panel.
They boldly took their final poses. One flying high, the other, crash landing. Up. Down. And they didn’t frighten at the sight of the ghost who came before.


I learned many hard lessons from this year of incredible injury: a broken shoulder in the summer, a severe contusion to my sternum/clavicle that made breathing painful for months this winter, and most recently, a wildly painful ankle injury I have no explanation for.


As a marathoner, you see it all the time: people tied up in their PRs, FKTs, Ultrasignup ranks, defining themselves by their ability to run far and fast.
I was that way too, except I was using running to escape and numb what was too hard to confront in the moment. To outrun what I’ve spoken about as ‘bear days’.
I’ve learned over this year of doubt and pain that injury never took running away from me: I had mistakenly tied up self worth and identity in this activity.


You are so much more than what you can do, or used to be able to do.


There will be days you cannot run away.
There will be days you are more ghost than girl.


And now I understand what I was painting was about so long ago.