Bert

Bert

Oil on canvas. Not for sale

Until today, I have never posted a painting twice. But Bert is gone from our lives, and he deserves the recognition.

I made a few paintings of Bert during his 12 years with Rand and Molly. They were 12 happy years. Twelve years of love, and adoration, and glee, with all parties enriching each other.

Bert was a lumbering, snuffling, happy-go-lucky guy. He snorted and farted and defended his way through life, a gentle guy doing a great job playing  tough guy. At least, that's what it looked like from the outside.

As Bert grew old, he grew very white in the face. He grew very, very deaf. He grew even more dear.

He allowed my brother's and sister in law's daughter, Larkin, into the family and he adored her. He allowed a new puppy, Archie, into the family and at least tolerated him and his puppiness.

Bert loved my brother so deeply it made my heart ache sometimes to see them together.

You were one of a kind, Bert, and I will miss you forever.

Young Bert

Bert, Watching Winter

Archie

Bert the Elder

Bert, Watching Winter

Bert, Watching Winter

Oil on canvas, 16x20. Contact Lori at Center Framing & Art, 860-233-7804, for price and delivery information.

Yesterday, I got up early and felt OK. But by 8 a.m., when I was getting ready to go and care for my elderly friends in West Hartford, I was as cold as though it were the dead of winter. By 8:15, I couldn't keep my eyes open. I slept for a half an hour, then called my friends and said I wouldn't be coming, and proceeded to sleep for about the next 20 hours.

I did get up in the middle of the night, feeling better - though my hips were so sore I could barely stand - and craving a tunafish sandwich.

I made tuna, devoured a sandwich and four extra-strength Tylenol, went back to sleep and slept another eight hours.

Today, I feel like a new girl.

The brain says it's the best part of our corporeal selves, but when the body wants something, it gets it.

People.... People Who Love Canines...

Bert. Not for sale.

... are the luckiest people in the world...

I spent Saturday standing on the sidewalk in front of Center Framing & Art in West Hartford, painting dogs and talking to people who love dogs. It was a great day - but I'm beat. I'm planning on going in to the house and sleeping like a dog.

I was joined, early on, by my brother Rand and his daughter Larkin. Rand was the one who connected me with Center Framing, and I am eternally grateful, and today was an excellent example of why. I painted, I talked with dozens of people, and they couldn't have been friendlier or more supportive. And they all love dogs.

Of course, I worry somewhat that I'll end up categorized as a dog painter, but you know, if that's the downside of success, I'll take it.

So Rand and Larkin brought me a picture of Bert, their now-aged bulldog, and Rand suggested I try the minimal approach, since these days, Bert is very white in the face. I don't think I'd have gotten that idea by myself. Making these minimal paintings always sets up a little whir of nerves in me - as Rand pointed out, one wrong stroke and you're doomed.

But who's to say this stroke or that one is wrong?