the Sunday night blues

6" x 6"  |  acrylic on panel  |  $90 plus s + h

my muse

Some say if you want to be taken seriously as an artist, its best to keep it professional and not to get too personal on your blog. But when Jack, my loyal companion for over 13 years, died last March - that convention flew out the window. Art is personal. My process is personal. Life is personal. I grew to realize what a disservice it would be to not share in celebrating his life that in so many ways has enriched mine.

So here's a little tribute to Jack Flanegan. This is the day Jack and I met...yes, that's me with the clown vest on (?). My friend, Shannon, and fellow coworkers rescued him as a pup from a shelter and gave me this bundle of joy snuggled in my Christmas stocking the year my father passed on. He survived Parvo when he was 3-months-old which to me was a testament to the power of prayer, his inner strength and incredible soul. My little super hero (he actually had a white star marked on his chest) became my first studio dog who wonderfully reminded me when it was time to take a break. 

Jack loved riding in the truck, playing with sticks or tennis balls (thank goodness for the Chuckit!) and he loved loved loved to go swimming. No matter the watering hole, he'd run to the highest launch, making the biggest splash (I can still hear it) while retrieving his ball. pure joy.


He was my confidant and my muse...and I feel lost without him. He was a blessing, no - he is a blessing and I am forever grateful.


: )

happy birthday to me!

charcoal on Strathmore paper

Jack will be 13 tomorrow. He's thrilled as you can see here! We're celebrating with walks and treats and a swim...like almost every other day.

: )

I'm painting a series of skyscapes and charcoal sketches really get me limbered-up for the range of values needed. Artist Laurel Daniel is exceptional in capturing the subtleties and contrasts in her landscapes.

jack nesting

9" x 12" charcoal

Jack was my first pup.

I found him in my Christmas stocking, given to me by my friend Shannon and a few coworkers. He's got the body of a lab with doberman markings - only with floppy ears and a wagging tail.

On 24 September he'll be thirteen years young - 91 for you and me - slowing down, but loyal as can be.