February 2012

This is Gregory.  The latest addition to the Castillo household.  He's the little fella on the right. 

I've had a 3-dog household since b.e. - before Ernie.  Eugene is getting elderly and Gabby is 6, so it's time to add another youngster before neither can tolerate a new addition to the family. 


About a month ago I set my sights on a young hound named Mimi.  Her brother was adopted and she sounded like the perfect dog for our household - loves car rides, gets along with animals and people, housebroken, crate-trained, etc.  I met her at the pet stand and fell in love, although we didn't "connect."  That didn't bother me - she's a hound and they dance to a different beat, quite often.  Then I arranged a visit to the house.  She was awesome with Gabby and they ran around the yard like crazy.  Eugene was fine with her, too.  Then she came inside.  Hoo boy.  What she didn't have was house manners.  That dog was on everything - counters, chairs, after the cat, so busy I could barely keep up with her.  That wasn't a deal breaker at the time, but I did have to consider my upcoming schedule was going to be hectic enough....how was I going to deal with all that energy and corral it when I was not home? After an email to her foster mom and the rescue group founder, it was agreed that timing wasn't great and she deserved a chance for a home if it came along.  I had every intention of adopting her if she was still available after my travels and schedule settled.  


Then along came Dasher. After a few weeks of pondering about Mimi, I saw Dasher's photo in the paper.  (may as well get your coffee - another long story to come.)


Dasher was the last pup of a litter that I had actually seen at my vet's office around November.  They were being neutered and the last one was yowling because his siblings were in other crates after their surgeries and he was alone.  ( I should have made mental note here.) He was adorable and named Rudolph.  I had actually gone on-line to find Rudolph before Minnie was even on my radar, but he was not to be found.  Dasher, Dancer and a couple of others were.


Flash forward to early February.  I'm sitting in my vet's office again with Sass cat for a nail trim.  Out comes a brown dog, and he sits politely at the doc's doorway.  I'm curious, so ask, "Is that one of the reindeer pups?"  answer, "yes, that's Rudy. The (vets) adopted him.  So, this is why I never saw Rudolph online - I think he spent one more night in foster before the Doctors snatched his cuteness up!  "There is one left." Dr. L. tells me.  and that was Dasher, whose image appeared in the paper a few days later and who showed up on my Facebook page when a friend saw him and said "He looks like he could be one of yours."


So, I'll shorten this story and simply say, he's adorable, sweet and not nearly as well-equipped as Minnie for a new home, but calm, peaceful, and quick-smart. We connected instantly at his foster home.  (His Mama dog needs a home and she is sweet, too. If I had room....She is in foster care with Hickory Hill and her name is Bonnie - Mama dog) 
I have always said that my animals find me if I am patient enough and pay attention.  


Dasher came to my house on the 10th of Feb. and didn't go back.  His name is Gregory because it's what he preferred.  (it means attentive, watchful - and he is)  Things fell into place with my schedule and he's been able to travel with me or I've had someone to keep him company while he continues to adjust.  He's been through a lot in just 10 days.  (I'll post about some of that later.)


On Valentine's Day I discovered Gregory was born the same week Gracie died.  Energy and Spirit, reborn.       
(this is an update, March 2012 - Gregory and his litter were born Sept. 30/Oct. 1.  Gracie died October 10.)             


In the meantime, Mimi is still available and if any of you are reading this and love small hounds with lots of personality, please consider giving her a home.  She just needs a little "home-schooling" and she, too, will be the perfect companion.   Mimi  

Why My Paintings are Expensive

I am totally stealing my friend's blog post.  OK, I'm not stealing - I have very strong feelings about using someone else's copyrighted images, posts, etc.  I AM linking so you can go to her blog and read what she has to say.  That is sharing.

Susan Singer is a friend and fellow local artist, who has taken her time to "break it down" and explain why art by professional artists (those of us who try to make a living at it) is so expensive.

I couldn't have done it any better.  Thank you Susan!

Beware, however, before you go there.  Susan paints nudes.

How Can You Charge so Much for a Painting?

Catching Up

Last night I was reading an article in the newspaper that triggered a memory of a friend and former co-worker I've known a long time, but not been in touch with for years.  On a whim, I called her.  It was delightful!  We caught up a bit on each other's lives, but mostly it was the joy of being in touch that left me with smiles.  

She asked what on earth had prompted me to call.  I told her it would make her laugh, and it did.  The article was about a nun who had been a feature film starlet, who had shared Elvis's first on-screen kiss.  I know!  It makes no sense, except to the two of us.  This lovely person, one of the kindest I've ever known, lives a life of deep faith and shares that faith not through preaching or proselytizing, but by example.  Years ago, I had made the mistake of recommending a particular movie that I thought she'd enjoy, but instead she hated, and at the time it made me think she'd have made a wonderful nun.  So upon reading the article my brain synapses started leaping from one connection to another and there she landed in my thoughts. 


My immediate thought was "I need to call." and then I talked myself out of it.  Seconds later, I reminded myself that 1. life is too short  2. I'd already lost more than one dear friend in the last few years 3. I'd love to hear from her if she were to call me and 4. why not?  


The bonus was that while we shared our current lives, another name came up and after we hung up, I called THAT former friend.  Another lovely conversation.  


At the end of both phone calls, each woman said to me, " I am so glad you called.  Thank you.  You made my night."  

Those words made mine.  

Goodbye 2011

I know.  It's been an entire month plus since I've last been on this page.  

Things happen.  

This is to wish all of my blog visitors a Happy New Year.  

2011 was a trying, emotional, changing and even uplifting year in this household.  I was lucky to meet new friends through a variety of means who brought much joy and hope into my life.  I am thankful to have long-time friends who are constant and stable, whom I adore and respect.  I was able to let go of past issues and relationships that brought pain and difficulty.  We said goodbye to our beloved Gracie.  And I began painting again.  Slowly, surely. Creating, painting.  Steadily, if not quickly.  

I hope for us all, on a global level as well as in our tiny places in the world, that 2012 continues to bring hope, changes that are beneficial, kindness and smiles.  I think the world needs a heaping helping of kindness and a whole lot more smiles.  

And on that note, before I get all sappy and boring and goofy, here is my latest painting, delivered in time for Christmas. 

"Rocket"
copyright 2011 AdeleCastillo
allrightsreserved

Quiet

It's been just over a month now that Gracie has been gone.  It's very quiet without her.  As my husband says, she was "A Presence." From the day she entered our household until the day she left.  On her last day she was actually walking in the backyard, barely, and woofing at our neighbor, barely.  She did not give up, ever.  Although I no longer spend much time grieving or weeping, moments like this one, sharing her story, do bring on the tears.  I am simply grateful for the honor of being her human mom and that she was able to have a long, well-lived life.  Not all of Earth's creatures have that.  


Our other two pups and a our cat are fairly quiet, unobtrusive beings.  They like being with us, but are as content to go off napping in other spaces away from us.  This has given me the long awaited opportunity to get back into the studio.  I have so many paintings left undone from a long while ago, and new things to tackle, too.  I was invited to teach a workshop late last month  which, at least for me, was a complete joy to do.  It's been a slow transition back, but it's going well, so far.  I don't anticipate diving head-first back into frantic commission work; that was not a good fit for me, but I am hoping to establish a nice, steady pace. 


Here is a sample of my latest endeavor, still on the easel and not complete.  

 Baci
copyright/all rights reserved/ Adele Castillo

Another Goodbye

Well, damn. 
I just learned that Lucy Hogge, the most well-loved beagle on the planet, died in her human mom's arms this week.

Jacque's Lucy 

Lucy is well-represented in my collection of paintings and has made appearances in two Winery Dogs books among other things.  Lucy was luckily rescued by her human mom, Jacque Hogge of Cooper Vineyards, years ago after being shot, hit by a car and left on the side of the road to die. Every year Cooper Vineyards hosted a Lucy's Weekend event, in honor of her rescue and to benefit the Richmond SPCA.  


Lucy lived a good long life much to the credit of Jacque, who not only rescued and nurtured her, but always respected her as a dog and loved her like a human.  Both Jacque and Lucy are an inspiration for anyone considering rescuing an animal with medical needs.  The two have been nearly inseparable since their meeting and I know the heartache and empty space now that they are apart is difficult terrain to travel.  I know there will be another lucky dog in Jacque's future, but there will never be another Lucy.  

It is Never OK to Lose a Friend

                          “It is never ok to lose a friend.”  

                                                             Nancy Pecsok

No, it isn’t. Nancy could not have summed it up better.  It doesn’t matter if that friend is furry and barks or is hairless and walks upright. 

Gracie Allen, as we dubbed her, was our first fur-baby as a married couple.  Ernie inherited my pups Max, Shadow and Gus, but Max died shortly after our honeymoon.  Gracie came into our lives a few years later. 

A furry pup with boundless energy and a direct stare that early on reflected her intelligence and fearlessness. Of course we fell in love with her and that love affair never ended. She was Ernie’s running companion, sofa-mate and canine love. She was protector of our household, guardian against strangers, FedEX trucks and men with hats. Gracie demanded attention, noticed everything, spoke incessantly, slept fitfully, pranced, ran, danced and commanded respect. Her ears would rotate like radar, listening to everything, always on alert.  Gracie knew tricks, but couldn’t be bothered, was an agility champion, but became bored with the repetition, herded us all until we insisted it was rude.  She believed her job was to protect us and I believe it is what kept her here for so long. She didn’t want to retire and even at the end, she was not pleased that her body was giving up with a vengeance. 

I had to make that call, to end her life with assistance.  It will torture me, although in my head I know with all certainty it was humane. Every weekend when she saw her human daddy, she would rally the energy to pretend nothing was getting to her.  But during the week she would physically decline.  Getting around was more difficult and I could see her heart pumping through her ribs. The tumor had made it difficult for Gracie to breathe and eat and whatever nutrition she was receiving must have been gobbled up by that foreign creature in her throat.  Half of her body weight was gone.  

Even as we sat in the vet’s office, waiting for that last injection, she’d look at me, panting heavily, as if to say, “I don’t have to leave now...I can stay. I am willing to stay.”  

Well I was, too, willing for her to stay, but her body was done. I have no doubt she could have continued and now thankfully I will never know what kind of pain or torture she’d be willing to suffer to remain with us. Gracie never once indicated that she was suffering.  I can’t help but believe she was, and enduring it all with the silent grace that was her legacy. 

Gracie Allen, Pooterhead, Baby Girl, our pooh-bear.  Oh my goodness we miss her so.  I know she’s hovering around, still guarding us all, but at least she’s shed that dilapidated body that no longer served her sweet soul.  

Gracie Allen Castillo

It was with a heavy heart that we quietly said goodbye to Gracie Allen Castillo this evening, October 10, about 6:20 p.m.  Our entire household mourns the passing of a truly independent and amazing spirit.  

I will share her final chapter in days to come. 

In Honor of Rob

Tomorrow, October 6, it will have been a year since our friend Rob was murdered.  He was shot for no reason other than he was there, in the wrong place at the wrong time, for some young, hopeless gang member to kill in order to prove he was worthy of the gang.  Word of Rob’s death came directly from his wife, and how she was able to make that call to us, and likely to a number of others that day, is beyond me. When she told me he’d been shot, my only words were “oh my god.” repeatedly. I stammered, not knowing quite what to ask or to say, until she finally said, “Adele, he’s dead.”  I can’t even get this far in writing about it a year later without crying. 

Rob’s death hit us hard.  Harder than we might have imagined, if we’d ever imagined such a thing happening to him.  To anyone we knew.  Senseless. So ridiculously senseless.  Rob’s death left behind a tsunami of hurt and grief and changed the landscape of the lives of not only his family and friends, but also of each perpetrator involved.  How can they not have known that when (not if) they were caught, that their lives would never, ever, NEVER be the same, that they’d never have the opportunity to turn things around?  I cannot imagine the kind of life that leads a 19 year old young man - teen- to such a conclusion that his life may as well be over, why not take out a few others before it is?  

Rob was my husband’s childhood friend.  He grew up around Rob’s family, almost an honorary brother.  Ernie was first a friend of Rob’s older brother, since they were closer in age, and Ernie was a part of that brother’s wedding party.  As years passed, Rob and Ernie naturally became pals and eventually Rob was the best man in our wedding.  Rob married a year before we did and we all got along well. Rob was the kind of gentle giant who was always there to lend a hand, to share a laugh and a beer, to cheer you on in whatever endeavor you plunged into.  Rob loved people and had a heart larger than life.  He had found his love, his Becky, and he was a happy man at peace with the world he inhabited.  We had no idea how many lives he had touched until we attended his funeral. This was a beloved man with no enemies. His family meant the most to him, above all else, but he always had time for anyone else and I doubt he ever knew a stranger.  

Rob’s death has left Becky a widow.  She still grieves profoundly and likely will for a long while. Who can blame her?  Isn’t it enough that she daily endures the emotional turmoil of losing her husband to such a violent end, but also must wade through the murky waters of revenge, of “being a good Christian” while wanting to see Rob’s killers brought to a severe justice.  Life has turned her world upside down.  No one can fix it or make it better or bring her peace, although we wish that we could.  We all grieve for the loss of a good man.  But she will grieve endlessly for the loss of her lifetime companion.  There cannot possibly be any justice. 

Rob, we miss you terribly and profoundly.  May your place in the Universe now be one of peace, love and beauty. 

Classes / Workshops

One of my continuous students has asked to take a new approach to her painting....she basically wants to start anew with some basics.  So I am putting together some lessons on composition, perspective and the elements of design. 


I've also been invited to teach a Color Theory workshop.  whew...that's an entire college course there, but I like challenges, so am having fun reviewing old notes, books etc. to put together something fun and informative for a 5 hour class.  I know.....zzzzzzz.  But it's COLOR so it has to be fun.  I need to replace the word "theory." 


More info to come as plans /dates are refined and set. 

One Helluva Weekend

My household is typical - usually.  I have a routine, dealing with dogs, walks, feedings, then my own agenda of teaching, the gym, yoga, painting, (ok, that one has been real iffy lately) and then there is grocery shopping, cleaning, (ok, that one is not high on my list) laundry; you get the picture.  Same as most average households in America.  And yet, somehow, things are never really dull around here, even though on a daily basis I don’t really have much to talk about. 

This past weekend provided me with a great prompt for writing.  As I posted on my FB page : my dog faked her death, a light fixture blew up and the fire department arrived with hatchets. 

So let me explain.

Gracie, as most know, is my elderly dog dying the slowest possible death due to cancer after finally recovering from the results of a vestibular syndrome attack last fall.  (The cancer and syndrome are unrelated except for timing.) I say it that way because this weekend, I realized, Miss Gracie has become a drama queen and I’m having to develop a sense of humor about her impending death because otherwise it’s just too sad.  

Anyway, on Thursday morning, Gracie was listless.  As the day wore on, she was unable to eat, could barely breathe or stand up, much less walk on her own, and basically was lying on her side all day.  I kept vigil and waited until mid-afternoon to call her human daddy, who promptly left important meetings (after all, he is a VBAIP- very busy and important person,) booked a very expensive flight home and arrived in a horrific downpour at 10 p.m. Like my day wasn’t already a ton of fun, most of it spent in tears emotionally preparing to take Gracie in to euthanize the next day, I had to drive in that crazy storm at 45 mph on a 70 mph highway. 

But then, her daddy walked in the door and from the moment she saw him, Gracie’s ears perked up and dang if that dog didn’t decide that nope, it wasn’t time after all.  By Sunday, she was in full motion again, eating what she could ingest and even taunting her Eugene-dog.  If I had not lived with the whole episode, I’d not have believed it.  That dog has more lives than any cat I’ve ever had.  

But no, that’s not all to the weekend.  On Saturday, while Gracie was still recovering from her episode, whatever that was, I was upstairs and her daddy down, when he yells at me, “What the blank are you doing up there?!!?” 

To which I reply, “What.?”

About that time I hear a loud buzzing.  And lights begin to flash behind me. So I ran into the hallway to find a ceiling fixture furiously buzzing and flashing light out from under the globe! no less and then there was smoke. A scene from a bad 70’s sci-fi movie. Oh no. 

I flipped off the switch on the wall and yelled to Ernie “Grab Gabby and get her out, the smoke alarm is about to go off.” 

It did. (Gabby hates smoke alarms.  She freaks and paces and won’t come in the house for hours)

So scrambling through about 5 minutes of conversation about what was happening and what we should do,  we decided to call the fire department.  

me:“ Is this _____ Fire Department?”

dispatch: “yes, this is dispatch.”

Did I mention I called the non-emergency number?  No.  I called the non-emergency number. 

me:“This is NOT an emergency, but I have a question to ask....well, this is what happened....” (repeat above story) 

“Do you have some way to tell if there is a fire in the walls or ceiling?”

dispatch: “We can send a truck out there.” 

me:“This is NOT an emergency.”

dispatch: “They have sensors that can detect heat in your walls to see if anything is smoldering.” 

me: “Perfect.”

dispatch: “We’ll send a truck out, but first I have to ask some questions....”

me: “This is NOT an emergency.”

dispatch: “I understand.  We’ll send out a truck and they’ll check it out for you.” 

me:“Can you please not turn on the sirens then?” 

She actually giggled. 

So, said truck arrives shortly, no sirens.  Four, FOUR, firemen in full outfits, hatchets and other wall damaging items in tow.  My husband goes to the truck:

“ I hope you don’t plan on using those things in my house...”

I don’t know the response....

But they all came in, with the house-destroying equipment and I became a little nervous.  

me: “I TOLD her it was NOT an emergency.”

fireman. grinning. sortof. : “ They’ll just check it out.” 

so grinning fireman, who it turns out knows my neighbors, stays with me at the bottom of the stairs and asks if I know my neighbors, which duh, I do, since we are right next door and our houses practically entwine...but that’s another story...so I say, “Yes.” 

In the meantime, with an infrared sensor of some sort the other firemen traipse through my bedroom to get to the attic with my husband and a third one scrutinizes the light fixture to conclude that we a. don’t have a fire and b. we need a new fixture and c. we could probably use an electrician. 

So we turned off the breaker, which made seeing anything in about half the house impossible, got the electrician over after hours on a Saturday night to tell us we needed a new fixture and tie off the wiring so we could turn the breaker back on. 

I think Ernie was actually, for the first time, glad to fly back out Sunday afternoon.  It was one helluva weekend. 

I’ll be shopping in the extremely near future for new ceiling light fixtures.  I’m replacing all of them.

And Gracie is still with us. Miss Drama Queen, like she doesn't already get enough attention.  God love her. 

And lastly, in spite of all the drama, thank you to Chickahominy Volunteer Fire Department.  It could have all been a very different story, and they came prepared.  

Ahhhhh, Sunday

This past week I plunged into a project to feng shui my home.  It was interesting to see my cat react to the sudden upheaval in my dining room.  She zoomed from room to room and attacked the daily paper on the table.  I finally had to put her on the porch to calm her down.  The dogs just observed, waited and finally adapted. Saturday we emptied and rearranged the living room.  I think by Sunday, everyone was ready for some peace.  I have a long way to go; that was just two rooms and they aren't finished yet! 
And yes, that's Gracie on the right. She gets annoyed and looks away when the camera comes out. Her otherwise perky ears were rotated for my benefit. 

Two Fave Blogs - no Three

I don't normally share websites, except in my blog list over there to the right and down aways,  but these are worth pointing out to you. 


If you have ANY issues at all with language, you will likely not appreciate the Bloggess.  But I think she is one of the funniest women I've ever read.  And her face is so cute and ladylike it just makes the incongruity more charming.  At least in my head.  


Another new website I've recently discovered is that of Kimberly Kelly Santini.  I saw her work last year on Dog Art Today when she won a wine label contest.  The Bloggess mentioned her today and I went back to revisit.  Her FAQ page on her blog is artistic explanation perfection.  For all of you who have questions like How do you make your art? to Will you donate a piece for auction? she has the answers.  


And my last fun blog is actually a two-fer.  It's Bent Objects (you'll see it there in the aforementioned right hand list) and his newest creative adventure My Response to Your Masterpiece.   Just go visit.  It's self-explanatory. 


No, I haven't put up any pics recently.  But I do have a painting on the easel.  Patience.  It's coming. 


And by the way, Gracie is still amazing.  

the Furkids Page

I've decided to give my furfamily their own page.  Look to the right ------->
that's where you will find updates if interested and it will free up the blog main page for, well, stuff.  

Gracie's Responses

I had forgotten how wonderful my commission clients could be, after some peculiar experiences that impelled me to quit commission work nearly altogether. Yet my recent blog posts about our struggles with an elderly dog have brought out some amazing responses from not only dear and long-time friends, but people whom I know only through my art. 


One amazing and lovely woman has offered to come and sit with Gracie to allow me time to get away.  I've certainly met her pups, but she's never met mine.  What a tender and generous gift to give. 


A close friend keeps a bag of clothes packed in her car in case I have an emergency and need someone to be in the house.  She sat with Gracie during her bout with pneumonia several weeks ago while I went to teach my class. 


Another person whose dogs I've painted and who has been through similar struggles with her elderly dog contacted me by email.  Her words broke my heart and uplifted my soul.  Her dog had passed away this spring, which brought me to tears.  I had the pleasure of meeting Tess twice and painted her in 2009. Tess's Mom told me about their last days together and ended her note with this, 
"Your words touch my heart and for what it’s worth, I think you are doing everything absolutely right!"


That alone was such a gift to hear.  I know I am lucky that I have the time to spend with my Gracie and the ability to pay for her medical care.  Not every pet owner has that and I can't imagine the feeling of being helpless and having no options. 


Right now Gracie is holding her own.  Still functioning completely. Still the Alpha in the house. She's eating better than she has in nearly a year.  I don't mind having to be nearby all the time.  I know the cancer will take her away soon enough.  

Why Gracie is still Here

I took my entire canine family to see Dr. Faber today for their accupunture, chiropractic adjustments, and holistic checkup.  Dr. Faber and I were talking about Gracie and her current state of health and when it's time to let her go.  Euthanasia.  A fancy word for killing.  No matter how I think of it, accept it, word it, the bottom line is that euthanasia is when I decide to end the life of my companion.  I know a number of my friends and acquaintances and readers wonder why I don't just "put her to sleep."  It's not putting her to sleep.  It's death. 


To explain why Gracie is still here, I need to share the story of Gus. 

Gracie thinks Gus's frisbee is delicious

Gus was with us for over 16 years.  He came to me before I met Ernie.  Just a tiny pup, brought to school by a few of my students.  He'd been found in the highway on the way from the Outer Banks to Virginia Beach.  The kids were told to find him a home.  Good grief!  That should NOT have been a child's responsibility, so I took him with the full intention of taking him to the SPCA.  Gus was covered in ticks.  And I mean COVERED.  I'd never seen anything like it.  I bathed him in my kitchen sink.  He was so exhausted, he slept through the entire bath.  I held him in my lap when I was done and he never left. Gus is the dog who taught me that animals are meant to be with  certain humans and somehow they find their way to us. 


He was a sweet, sweet dog who resembled a doberman-lab-hound mix.  All black with Dobie markings and the prettiest speckled boots.  He was goofy. Our first walk on a leash freaked him out so badly, we didn't get further than 2 houses away. It was my fault I didn't try until he was about 5 or 6 months old.  I met Ernie when Gus was a year old, give or take, and they bonded instantly.  Ernie taught Gus to play ball (where when I'd tried, the ball would bounce off his head and he'd look at me wondering why I'd done that) and he taught Gus to catch a Frisbee.  That dog loved, loved loved to run after Frisbees.  He lived for Frisbee.  And squirrels.  

Gus would snuggle with us, but he'd never stay still.  I called him my learning-disabled dog with A.D.D. Not to make fun of humans so afflicted, but he really did have issues.  Yet he persevered and became a dog that all of our friends loved. 

So some 16 years later, I noticed one morning a large swelling on his rear leg.  Overnight this appeared.  Short version; it was  a form of bone cancer. It didn't get better, but we did what we could to help him along.  He dragged his leg, requiring booties where he'd scraped his skin down nearly to his bone.   He only wanted to be with us.  After about a month, I thought it was time for him to go. 

I called the holistic vet I'd been using at the time.  She came to our home, Ernie and I both with Gus as she began to insert the needle to euthanize him. He balked and pulled away his leg.  Ernie was beside himself.  I didn't know what to think. We regrouped and tried again about 15 minutes later.  Gus, our sweet lab who knew no enemies tried to bite his doctor.  

We heard him.  He wasn't ready.  Dr. K was taken aback and I felt awful for her.  But we couldn't euthanize a dog that so clearly wasn't ready to go.  

We had another 3 months with Gus. He was fully functional until his last few days, when complications left him incapacitated.  He stopped eating.  He didn't want to leave us mentally, but his body was done.  He'd taught us so much about caring for a living being even in the worst of circumstances.  Just because a creature or human is old or ill, doesn't necessarily mean they are finished, complete or done. We tend to cast off our elderly.  We tend to ignore the ugliness of aging and illness.  We want it all to go away. I learned more from Gus in his last 4 months with us than I ever would have if we'd simply "put him down" when his cancer first arrived.  I wouldn't trade that time for anything, although it certainly would have been easier. 

After we had Gus euthanized, (this time he went very quickly,) as we were riding home in our van, I saw him, Gus, riding in the back with us.  I had no doubt we'd done it right. Not only were we on the way home, Gus was, too.  

Gus is with me in every painting since he died. He is the image on my business cards.  I have a soul symbol for him that appears somewhere on my canvas.  He was a goofy fun dog in life, and a wise teacher in death.  

So until Gracie tells me she has completed her life, I will honor her illness, her age and whatever wisdom she has to share.  I have no doubt she will let us know when her body is finished. 

Gracie : 2005

On Being a Teacher

I've been a teacher in some form or another since I graduated from college, oh a thousand years ago.  It is not what I thought I would do, but life takes us on detours and roads less travelled and thankfully I've always either had the sense to listen to the Universe, or the laziness to just go with the flow. Both have served me well.  I wanted to be a veterinarian, a hair dresser and a beauty queen.  Seriously.  But blood makes me queasy. Dissecting frogs in high school put me over the edge.  Fixing Barbie's hair (I finally realized) was not quite the same as doing human heads. Plus I ruined a few good Barbies. I didn't play well with girly girls who had painted toes, since I'd rather be climbing trees, hanging out on the beach and finding stray animals to bring home.   Soooo.....I chose art.  I knew less about it at the time, so it made perfect sense to me.  I liked creating and I could do it alone.  Why not? I'd be an art major and if I had to, I'd teach for a few years until I decided what I would do when I grew up.  (I grin big here.) 


Currently I teach adult painting classes.  I've been doing that for about 5 or 6 years now.  I love it.  I enjoy the challenges and the fun of being around other artists - who actually pay ME to help them become better at what they do. Those aha moments are priceless.  I get to have some of those, too, when I see something unexpected happen on one of their canvases.  I've always said I learn as much from them as they do from me.  


Adult students take painting for various reasons.  To explore something new, to get out of the house, to learn a new medium or technique, to pick up where they left off years ago after the kids are grown, to consider a new career....I could go on. Although I don't encourage the career part much, since making art and selling art are on opposite ends of the creative spectrum.  A person has to be dedicated to marketing to actually make a living off of art.  That's another topic entirely.  One thing all of my students do have in common is the desire to do the best they can and get better with each new painting. 


Teaching can also be tiring, annoying and frustrating.  Working to come up with new ideas only to be ignored has made me realize adult students come with their own agendas.  Watching a gifted artist constantly berate him/herself wears me down.  I've learned sometimes a student's self-worth is wrapped up in their perceived value of their artistic output.  "this painting is awful, I suck!" isn't unusual to hear.  I understand, because I'm an artist too, and any of us who are artists have been there, and will continue to go there as long as we are creating.  I think it comes with the territory.  I wish someone had warned me in college.  Then again, maybe if I'd known, I'd actually have tried the veterinarian thing.  I don't think there would have been any less angst, though.  Just different angst. 


I see myself not so much as an instructor with technical knowledge (which I am and have) as someone who uplifts and encourages progress.  I bring what I know about painting to the table and my students bring their gifts and talents.  All are excellent, some are extraordinary.  I don't make them better artists - they do that by working hard.  I just meet them where they are and take part of the journey with them. 


You can see some of their recent paintings here
Mostly Art with Stray Musings on Occasion: The "Painting Abbey" Wall

Gracie Has Other Ideas

this is just an update on Amazing Gracie. 

These were taken after Gracie's return home from doggie ICU.  Apparently her mission on earth is to see how often she can scare the living beejeesus out of me by faking her imminent death.  

The "Painting Abbey" Wall

On exhibit now at Crossroads Art Center, Richmond, VA

and the original Abbey herself, in attendance opening night.  

and no, I don't KNOW why blogger posts my larger image out of the box like that, but I'll eventually figure it out. 

Student Show - Painting Abbey

Abbey by Carolyn Kipps

Friday night my fabulous students will once again show off their talents and progress in acrylic painting. The opening at 6 p.m. Friday July 15 and most if not all of the 12 of us exhibiting will be in attendance.  Come say hello and check out what we've been up to lately.


Included in this exhibit is a show within a show.  I call it "Painting Abbey." One of my painting students is a renowned photographer, Lynda Richardson.  She snapped a photo of Abbey during a local agility class she was participating in with her own pup.  After seeing the image, we thought it would be fun for all of my students (who wished) to paint their own version of her.  The results are fantastic. ranging from simple color studies to some quite unusual and creative interpretations.  


I'll update with photos as soon as I get those taken.  Until then, here's a taste of two of the Abbeys.  

Abbey by Marcia Fowler