Growth doesn’t usually happen in leaps and bounds. It’s something that sneaks up on you; it’s masked by time and embedded in the act of showing up every day. One day, you look up and realize you’ve traveled a great distance, closing the gap between where you want to be and where you were. It was done in increments so small they were barely noticed. You hope for it, catch glimpses of it, and feel like you’re making some progress, but you don’t really know how far you’ve come until you take the time to measure.
I had the chance to do that last week, and even though I know I’ve grown a lot as an artist, I was still pretty excited at the tangible evidence. This was the second commissioned dog portrait I painted. I had painted Sebastian and the cats and was toying with the idea of offering commissioned pet portraits. If I were to do that, I would need clients willing to let me practice. A handful of blog followers commissioned portraits at a steeply discounted rate, and I got to work.
One of the first things I learned was that painting shaggy white or beige dogs would be a struggle! It was one I would have to fight my way through, though, because sooooo many breeds are white or beige and shaggy.
This is Boykie, a service dog belonging to one of my long-time blog followers. He’s a poodle/lab mix with black skin and white fur, so this commission was really going to push me. I tried to find the colors in the neutrals and the form under all that fur. I cringe when I look at this painting now, but I was very proud of it at the time.
As it happens, Boykie’s family wanted to commission a larger portrait of him, set in a history-feeling landscape painting. I’ve thought about revisiting some of my first pet portraits, and this was a great opportunity to do just that. While I had lots of photos of Boykie and I was working on another commission for them, I would paint a new 8 x 10 portrait. It was as much for myself as it was for the client.
Here is that portrait…
It’s the same dog, same artist, same medium, and a very similar palette (just slightly amended). But I have completed about 1,000 paintings from the first to the last. I haven’t kept track, but I’ve probably painted and sketched over 300 dogs alone. I am the same person, but I’m not the same artist.
As I’ve shared many times over the years on this blog, it’s almost impossible to do something daily or regularly without getting better at it. If you write every day, you’re going to compose better sentences and tell more compelling stories. If you bake a couple of times each week, you’re going to start turning out sourdough bread with a perfect crust and crumb. If you work in your garden every spring and summer, you’re going to become more proficient with what your plants and bushes require to thrive. If you upholster enough French chairs to fill a bus, you will sort out the puckers and problem areas of your early efforts.
If you want to get good at something, stop dreaming about it. Stop buying the books, signing up for the classes, and hoarding supplies. There will likely never be the ideal time or perfect circumstances. Start small and often. Allow yourself to be a beginner and to be terrible. Push through the awkward and ugly stages. Celebrate the small steps and slow progress.
I know I’ll look back at the paintings I’m producing now and wish I could redo them after the growth that will come from 1,000 more paintings. But the gap between where I want to be and where I am shouldn’t keep me from enjoying the current view or deter me from continuing on the long journey.
I had the rare pleasure of getting to show the 30 x 40″ portrait/landscape of Boykie to the clients in my studio. They were in the area and asked if they could stop by. I was also able to meet Boykie, which was such a fun surprise! In addition, I showed them my bonus painting and presented it as a thank-you for their faith in me when I was first considering working with clients.
Here is the finished portrait of Boykie…
Just as Boykie’s painting challenged me in 2022, this one pushed me as well, and I learned a lot in the process. I’ve always loved classic hunting-dog paintings, so I’ve been practicing landscape backgrounds for them, and this gave me a chance to put that practice to use.
I think one of the most hopeful things we can do is practice. It’s a physical way to show we are not finished yet.
What are you practicing?
