Horse Comission Gone Wrong

 

                                                            "Surf Runners"

I had a hint in the very beginning that this commission wasn’t going to go smoothly. When I first spoke to the woman on the phone, there was no hint of friendliness or even cordiality, just a very standoffish tone and words. “This is what I want. Can you do it?”

What she wanted was a pencil drawing of two Arabian horses running on a beach from left to right. One was to be a stallion and the other a mare. The drawing was to be used to etch a large mirror. I got right to work looking for references of horses running since there were no photographs provided for this project. Since I’m not an Arabian artist, the only photographs I had in my own morgue files were of Thoroughbreds racing. I did some thumbnail sketches and came up with two sketches I liked that would work well together. Then I set to work on the preliminary drawing, changing those Thoroughbreds into Arabians as best I could. After completing it, I sent it to the client for approval, and waited anxiously.  The word soon came; she didn’t approve. 

Again, there was nothing friendly in her tone or words. Never having encountered anything like this from any of my other clients, I was puzzled. Most people are very friendly and open during the whole process. 

The changes she wanted were a full out gallop depicted, higher more flowing tails, more “free spirit” feeling and less “playful’ feeling. I scrapped the first two horses and came up with two more which I thought fit better the feeling that she wanted. I sent her a second preliminary drawing and waited for her reply. It took a while for her to get back to me, and again she had changes to be made. Make the nostrils on the left horse more flared. Give the right horse a more intense expression in the eyes and mouth. 

Again, no friendliness (or even annoyance!) in her voice. 

This time, thinking the changes were minor, I went ahead and completed the final drawing and delivered it to her in person. Again, her demeanor and tone were very standoffish. 

A short time later she called to tell me that they had decided to scrap the whole project and she would be returning the drawing. It was a bit of a blow to my ego at the time, but I soon realized there was no way this woman was going to be happy with anything I did. She had such a firm idea in her head of what she wanted that it would be difficult for any artist to please her, and I was certainly not that artist. 

I’ve thought a few times over the years of doing this image over again with my own vision. I know which of these two designs I like better and which has potential to become a new painting. What do you think?

Looking Back; Looking Forward

What can I say? It’s been a tough three years. 

Three and a half years ago I said good bye to my horse and just haven’t found the right words to post here since. Probably some of you, my followers, have given up long ago and gone on your way. Frankly, I didn’t know how to follow that devastating post with anything uplifting and joyous. But it does deserve a follow up even if I’m writing only for myself. 

In the instant we left the barn for the last time after loading up my tack trunk, saddles, bridle, blankets and lunging whip, Barn Life and the community it engendered ended for me forever. In truth, barn life had diminished in the preceding two years as one by one my riding buddies gave up riding, except for one. The first one’s back no longer allowed her to ride without great pain, another was dealing with his own health issues, and a third sold her horse and devoted her time instead to her art. A fourth had moved away to pursue a degree in the medical field. Of the boarders, only Anne remained. Problem was she only came out after work once a week which was often too late for me, and I hated to burden her with riding the more flat trails for Scottie’s sake, knowing she liked more adventurous riding. 

Meanwhile, I had my own health issues which kept me from being able to trek out into the hilly pastures to fetch Scottie and even to get on and off him. In fact, there were very few rides in his last years as it was. Perhaps, with his deteriorating health, it was for the best. But the loss of the companionship of my barn buddies, my only real friends, was as devastating as losing Scottie whom I knew was in a better place and no longer suffering. For over a year, it was a very difficult adjustment to make; from horse owner and life in a world of horses to being alone and an outsider. 

The following year our five year old female rescue dog, who was my heart dog, became desperately ill. For five weeks we tried to save her but in the end had to let her go. This loss was far more devastating, and I mourn for her still, resenting the unfairness of it all; striking down a lively, beautiful, loving dog still in her prime. 

And then the Year Of Covid came with its lockdowns and fears of the unknown future ahead of us. Truthfully, lockdown was no big deal for me since I work from home as it is. In fact, it was a relief to have an excuse NOT to go out among people, hermit that I am. 

And then our twenty year old cat succumbed to her kidney disease, and we had to let her go, too. Rest In Peace, Mollykins.

So there it was, three losses in three years. I am thankful, however, that we didn’t lose anyone in our family or among our friends to the terrible ravages of Covid-19, and that is something to be very grateful for.

During the  past three years not much art has been created or worked on or even finished. Truthfully, my heart just isn’t into art at the moment. In the meantime, I’ve found another outlet for my creativity. 

Back in the fifties, my father wrote a novel about his experiences in The War and about his life. He submitted it to a publisher who rejected it, he started to revise it and then gave up. I inherited his novel in all its forms and have begun copying it to my computer from the faded typed pages he composed so long ago. Being a journalist, he was an excellent typist. I am not. So the going has been slow as I squint at those old thin sheets of typing paper trying to decipher the text. I figure I owe it to him to get the book printed and possibly self-published and distributed to family members. In the process, I’m gaining a better understanding of the father from whom I kept my distance all my life, never fully understanding why.

As I’m working on my dad’s writing, the urge to compose my own stories has welled up. Long ago my third love after horses and art was writing. I took creative writing classes in both high school and college and did well but never pursued writing in any meaningful way. 

It’s so good to feel enthusiastic about something again. Perhaps The Muse will also spread that enthusiasm and confidence to art some time soon.