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Meet Max

This is Max. He belongs to someone I’ve known in Canmore since we moved here. In those early years, Mel and I travelled in the same coffee shop friends group, and we’ve become reacquainted in recent years as she’s also a fellow vendor at the Banff Christmas Market.

Last year, Mel and her family adopted an adorable Bernese Mountain Dog they named Max. The timing with the breeder, however, wasn’t great. While Mel was working her booth across from mine in Banff, her husband and daughter were on a winter drive to B.C. to pick up their new puppy.

I got to meet Max when he was brand new, as they brought him by the market a couple of times. But those meetings were brief, as they didn’t want to overwhelm him.It was an exhausting time for the whole family, bringing home a new puppy while Mel was working her biggest show of the year. I remember talking to her husband, who wasn’t getting much sleep last December, having to take a new dog outside to pee several times a night.

At the end of January, on my way downtown on my bike, I ran into Mel and Max on the trail. It was the first time I’d seen them since the market, and I was delighted to see how much he’d already grown. I took some photos with my phone.

Since then, I’ve run into them a few more times. Max is now a big, handsome dog and apparently quite a handful.

At some point, I asked Mel if she’d be comfortable with me painting Max as one of my own pieces, with the freedom to make my own creative decisions and sell prints of the finished painting. I offered them a metal print in return, and she was happy with the arrangement.

I’ve been wanting to add some dog paintings to my portfolio for a while, but there’s an important distinction between painting a dog because I want to and painting one on commission.

While commissions are great, and I always do my best for my clients, I don’t choose those subjects. I’m also working within the client’s preferences, painting an image under somebody else’s guidelines.

That’s entirely appropriate. People pay a premium to have their pet painted in my style, and I take that responsibility seriously. My clients have always been happy with my interpretations of their furry family members, but those paintings are personal to them. They’re not necessarily images somebody else would want to buy.

Commission work also involves a lot of back and forth with reference photos, verifying details and features, especially when clients have been specific about what’s important to them. Many want collars and tags included, too.

With Max, I made all those decisions myself. I chose to leave off his collar, kept his tongue hanging out as it was in my reference photo, and decided halfway through the painting to add snow.

I didn’t have to run any of those decisions by anybody.

And I enjoyed that freedom.
I’m a sucker for most animals. I’m the annoying guy who stops strangers on the street and asks if I can meet their dog. A running gag with a former neighbour was that whenever I saw him walking his dog, I’d enthusiastically greet her first, then look up at him and deadpan, “Oh, hi Chris.”

Every so often, just as I do with wildlife, I’ll see a dog and think, “I want to paint that face!”

Max was one of those dogs.

Because Mel was on board with my suggestion, the original plan was to visit their house one day and take some photos of Max in their backyard. I figured he’d be more comfortable there, less distracted than on a walk, and might even sit still long enough for some decent reference shots.

Even though he was now fully grown, I still wanted to paint that face.

But while cleaning up my phone one day and filing photos, I came across the shots I’d taken during that first encounter on the trail after the market.

And I thought, “This is how I want to paint him.”

I already had the photos I needed and never did do a backyard photo shoot.
I started this piece on the Wacom MovinkPad 11 (above) before moving it to my desktop display for the detailed work. I happened to have the tablet with me when I ran into Mel at the coffee shop last month. So, she got to see the work in progress and laughed, which is always a good sign.

Initially, I’d hoped to have prints of this painting ready for this year’s Banff Christmas Market, but life and work got in the way, and I just didn’t get it done in time.

That’s OK, because I already have more than 40 different paintings available in various forms for the market, including 38 different 11×14 prints. I have more than enough.

I am ordering a metal print of Max, however, to gauge the reaction, and I expect to have it available for at least three of the four weekends.

Now, whenever I reveal a commission painting, I usually get more inquiries. Some are from people interested in commissioning portraits of their own pets, while others generously volunteer to let me paint their dog.

There’s a difference between me wanting to paint somebody’s dog and somebody wanting me to paint their dog. Mel didn’t ask me to paint Max. I asked her if I could.

I’m always willing to discuss new commissions, but I’ve already got my next one on the launch pad, with three more dogs waiting in the queue.

As for paintings like Max, where I choose the subject and make all the creative decisions, I’ll continue doing what I’ve always done. I’ll stop to meet dogs, take pictures with my phone, and occasionally see one whose expression makes me think, “I want to paint that face.”

And when I can make the time, I will.

Cheers,
Patrick

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A hippo, a dog, and a giraffe walk into a bar…

Whenever I start a new painting, I put pressure on myself that it needs to be a finished piece, suitable for prints and licensing. A consequence of that narrow focus, however, is that I don’t leave any room for practice pieces, which are often enjoyable.

Practice pieces are valuable for a few reasons. It keeps things loose and allows me to try new things without any pressure. If the painting ends up being unappealing, it’s no big deal. But sometimes, while working on a practice painting, I might see more possibility in it than I did when I first started. And if I get good feedback on a practice piece, that might spur me on to turn it into a finished painting. Some of my most popular paintings aren’t my personal favorites, so I never know what people will like.

My first Grizzly painting was an experiment. My ostrich painting was a practice piece on the iPad, but Shonna wanted me to finish it. Both paintings are still popular.

While looking for painting ideas last week, I went through a bunch of photos in my archive, pictures I’ve taken over the years that I might not have chosen as reference for a finished piece. When I’m choosing photos for practice pieces, however, I suddenly have more options.

A fully rendered painting usually takes me 10-20 hours to complete. I’m painting a sea turtle right now and it’s a lot of work. It’s proving to be time consuming to paint the patterns on the skin and the shell. I’m enjoying it, but it’s meticulous detail and will likely take a minimum of three weeks to complete. Working on practice pieces at the same time, each taking about two or three hours, means I get a break from that piece, allowing me to return to it each time with fresh eyes.

Finally, practice pieces give me more images to share and if I ever get around to creating an art book, I’ll be able to choose from a larger collection of work.

I took the reference for the hippo at the Calgary Zoo.
When I took the reference for the Bernese Mountain Dog, my camera was actually full of owl pics. A couple of years ago, Colin from the Alberta Birds of Prey Centre was in Canmore with some of his birds for an annual education event in the fall at the Civic Centre. He was holding a Great Horned Owl on his arm and this dog was very interested, both animals locking eyes on each other. The dog’s owner had a tight grip on the leash, but Colin didn’t seem too concerned. I don’t know who would have won that altercation, but my money was on the owl.

Here’s a one minute high speed video of the last practice piece, a giraffe from the Calgary Zoo, with a little musical accompaniment. I had to force myself to stop working on this one and I’ll admit to being uncomfortable with posting it, as it’s still quite rough. I already know that I’ll likely finish this piece as I think there’s more personality yet to show up and I was enjoying the work.

With thousands more reference photos from which to choose, I expect I’ll have more practice pieces to share soon enough.

Cheers,
Patrick

© Patrick LaMontagne
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