After hours of painting which were way beyond my bed time, I completed Labradoodle's Dream. 1 am quickly approached as the last thin lines of black paint were brushed onto my dog. No, not my real dog. Explanation of the piece will follow at a later date. A week later the dog is on my kitchen table ready for the parade.
From the moment I brought this dog into my home a little more than two weeks ago, it has taunted me. First it sat in the kitchen and soon after the dining room. When family visited for the toddler's birthday it was hastily removed to my basement studio. Each place it sat begging me to work on it. To stroke it if you will. As I would round a corner in our home or come through a doorway it would stare back at me. My heart and voice constantly leapt up in my throat to scold the dog for standing on the table. My own dog has been known to levitate and has achieved the heights of our kitchen table and beyond.
So the two weeks of working like a dog on the dog have come to an end. Happily now like a sweet dream I only reminisce about the euphoric feelings of accomplishing a satisfying piece of art.
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