There something ridiculous and primal about my love for tartan. Possibly my roots, Victoria, BC…my Canadian background..whatever it is, it makes me smile and for the love of all that’s good, adorable animals should be wearing it too!
About ten years ago I was in Mendocino for a long weekend and the local animal shelter had strategically placed their pups needing a home on the grassy lawn in front of the spectacular ocean views. They took each dog out for a walk one at a time or let visitors sign up for their own walk. A not so subtle, hint hint, wouldn’t the star on the Christmas tree of a romantic weekend be bringing home an abandoned, lost, homeless, needy dog? Wouldn’t it? Don’t you have a heart? At least that’s how I heard the subliminal message. The worst, or best, offender was a mixed breed, a nondescript mid-size brown-grey-beige dog who at best could be described as a “dog”, the kind of dog a young child draws from memory, an idea of a dog. And what did they call him? Mr. Handsome. All day long, back and forth he went on his walks, with a variety of humane society workers and families calling out, “Mr. Handsome! Mr. Handsome! Come on, Mr. Handsome!” They were killing me. I never did find out if he found a home that day but my animal whisperer psychic hit is that he most likely did.
And there is the story of how a painting is born. Scraps of memory from ten years ago mixed with today’s artistic fingerprint. And could I have planned that? Absolutely not. It was in the sitting down, showing up, puttering, painting a layer, and another, my own creative walk, one step at a time. xo
“Mr. Handsome”, 11×17″ framed, available at ElizabethW Carmel-by-the-Sea, 831.626.3892
