When we create artwork featuring our pets, how does it feel to look at those works once they're gone?

This last weekend has been one of the longest in my memory.  In addition to a jumble of the kids' activities that required some juggling, it was time to say goodbye to our last and oldest cat.  He lived 19 years.  He made frequent appearances in my artwork at times, and was also a chief reason I got very little artwork done at other times.  I'd known him (and his siblings) since he was only a few weeks old.  

I think at some point I've painted or drawn all of the cats I've cared for as an adult.  I often put those pieces up for sale-- cats are a subject that sells well for me. Sometimes, however, I decide that a particular piece is "the portrait" I want to keep of that particular cat.  Although I've already saved a few portraits of our last and oldest kitty, a few days ago I decided to take the one above off my listings as well and keep it.  Named "Kitty Kiss," it features a drawing of my cat (we'll call him "The Runt", because he actually was the runt of the litter) and his brother.  They would often start the afternoon off cuddled together on a chair, settling in for a long nap.  As the afternoon progressed, they would awaken every now and then to clean each other before settling back down to sleep. Once we got to the time of day where the  cleaning sessions grew more frequent, they eventually took on a new tone and turned into a swat fest. Cuddly nap time would be over for the day, only to be continued the following afternoon.  Runt lost his brother to age and illness a couple years ago, so the afternoon naps were a bit lonely for him after that unless he found a sympathetic lap (which we always offered if possible).

When I sell a painting or drawing featuring one of my own pets, I feel a little conflicted if it carries the pet's distinct look and personality.  Ultimately, I try to make the decision before I start the piece-- am I painting or drawing with the intention of making it for someone else to enjoy? Or is it purely for my own enjoyment when I look at it?  One way around this is prints--I keep the original, but share the artwork with others so they can enjoy something that reminds them of their own pets too.  If I've already sold the original, prints will work for me as a keepsake too.  Over time I've found that I enjoy the bond of being an animal lover and selling work to fellow animal lovers. They will give those pieces loving eyes as well, which means I don't necessarily have to have the original in my possession after my own pet is gone.

Another way around this is to paint animals we enjoy but aren't as attached to-- in my case, I've pivoted to painting birds.  I love watching our local wildlife, and birds have distinct personalities that are fun to capture in paintings as well.  I don't tear up looking at those paintings, reflecting on the bittersweet memories of caring for and saying goodbye to those animals.  They're just fun to paint.

Like painting people we love, painting our pets can be an emotional (but rewarding) experience.  I enjoy seeing other artists' pets in their works, as it feels like I learn a little bit about that artist when I view those more personal, pet-centered pieces.

Eventually, I hope to be able to paint my former pets with joy again and share those pieces freely.  For now, it's a little too close to saying goodbye to the pets I've loved and lost, so those pieces will probably stay in the sketchbook for a while.   

After about 16 years of blogging, I enjoy going back through old blog posts and seeing where I was in life when I wrote different posts throughout the years.  I first started blogging when I was juggling the responsibilities of caring for my baby and my terminally ill mom.  You probably wouldn't know that from reading my posts though.  At the time, painting and blogging provided me with a bit of an escape from the daily ups and downs of caregiving.  My outlook on life and creating has changed quite a bit since then, as have my paintings.

A common thread I see when I read those old posts is reflection.  Sometimes, I posted a painting and reflected on that painting and its process.  As I got comfortable with posting, the blog entries I wrote evolved into more detailed reflections, whether on the paintings themselves or the experiences that led to them.  Over time, I've learned that the beginning of a blog post almost never materializes when I sit down to write. Instead, it starts as a seed somewhere else in my day.  Depending on how much time I have before I get to sit down and post again, that seed is nurtured in my mind until it grows into a collection of inter-connected thoughts that might make an interesting piece for a blog.

One of the things I try NOT to do now when I post is drop random "thoughts of the day" pieces on my audience.  If someone stumbles onto my blog, a few quick sentences that popped into my head to go with a painting I'm posting aren't going to give that reader much of a reason to dig further.  I've had readers share with me that they enjoy going back to read additional posts on my blog, so I keep that in mind when making new posts. I'll often ask myself: what can a reader learn about the artwork I create from reading this post?

Likewise, if I'm sharing new artwork, I don't see the point in just posting the artwork on my blog with an announcement that I have a new painting available.  Obviously, a blog is a great place to post new work! Even better, it's a great place to post new work and give it context.  If you're just posting new artwork without any additional insight, the blog isn't going to do much for it.

So how do I turn a random thought into a blog post?  Like painting, the process is a little different every time.  So is the outcome.

The thoughts I develop and choose to write about usually come from an experience paired with a reflection on that experience.  Whether it's the process of a painting, a memory to go with the subject of a painting, or a connection I made to painting while doing something totally unrelated (like sitting on the beach or driving through a new area), I'll usually develop the thought further by relating it to creating in general.  I've been teaching others since childhood, so I always like to share what I learn. Did I stumble upon a new technique? Learn a hard lesson through failure?  Realize something about myself or the creative process that might be useful to others?

Here's an example: while walking through a weed-filled area on our property years ago, I found myself sticking to what was left of the path that already existed or stomping out weeds to reconnect old paths as I walked.  I knew that treading those same paths would keep them open for future walks.  If I avoided those well-worn paths too many times in favor of new paths, I would end up having a much harder time getting back to them once the weeds grew in.  I ended up writing a blog post about this being similar to the creative process-- if we don't keep our creative pathways active by using them, it's much harder to find them and use them later.

This is the first blog post of what I hope will be many on my new website.  My previous website shut down with no notice, so I'm having to start over.  At first I was upset, knowing that all of the time and effort I put into that website had disappeared.  The disappointment was quickly replaced with anticipation though: now I get to make a new, fresh start, which means plenty of insights as I move my artwork over to this site and learn from the experience.  There will be a lot of learning coming my way as I go through this process.  If there's one thing I like to do with all those thoughts and insights as I learn, it's to turn them into blog posts!