"We look at a painting to know the painter. It's his company we are after, not his skill."
This notion was at the forefront of my mind yesterday as I started a new piece, another painting of my dog, MacGregor. I first painted him last summer; the finished piece is in the gallery (he's the scruffy one).
I must first say that I'm not a pet portrait artist. Or am I? Here I am, returning to a four-legged subject, which only makes me wonder: what do these types of paintings betray of the artist?
Maybe the strokes will knit together in just the right way to suggest the wild scruff of his coarse fur, which I find simultaneously impossible and fantastic. Maybe the layers of color will make his eyes glow as warmly as they do in person. Maybe the lights and darks will work together to show the gentle posture of his large retriever frame, which he is content to park next to whomever will have him.
I'm about halfway in, and already I want to reach into the painting and boop his head or scratch his chin. Nevermind knowing me through this painting. I want you to know MacGregor, and what a good, good dog he is.