Tag: Commission

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Painting Delta

A few months ago, I was ready to start my next commission, but the next person on the waiting list, somebody I had painted for before, had a bunch of life stuff going on and didn’t have the bandwidth for a commission until the other stuff had been sorted. She agreed to let the next person in line jump the queue and I’d come back to her next.

The next in line was Pat, who’d already been waiting quite a while.

I first met Pat several years ago at Electric Grizzly, the Canmore tattoo shop owned by my buddy Derek Turcotte. I don’t actually remember our first meeting, but I got to know Pat as one of Derek’s clients. Derek is an enthusiastic supporter of other artists and has a few of my pieces hanging in his shop. Pat liked my whimsical wildlife and since then has collected several of my pieces. He has poster and matted prints, plus canvas, metal and acrylic in different sizes.

These are some of the ones hanging in his home.
So he knew what he wanted when he asked me to paint 10-year-old Delta.

Because he lives in Calgary, I figured I could take my own reference photos. But on the day I set aside late this summer to go there, the check-engine light on my car came on several times before I had even left the mountains. I have a code reader and it let me know that one of my ignition coils was the culprit. Not wanting to risk damaging the car with misfires, I took it home, called my mechanic to get an appointment, and told Pat I couldn’t make it.

He was just about to start his next shift rotation at work, so I suggested that rather than wait for another day almost two weeks later, he could send me some photos he had so I could see if I could get started. I sent him a Dropbox link where he could upload them, and he dumped 400 photos into it. I’m not kidding.

If you think that’s overkill, I assure you, I did not. I was thrilled. Sometimes, especially if the portrait is a memorial, the problem is that I don’t get enough photos. And it’s not just about the likeness; it’s about seeing the character and personality in my subject. Pat has taken some incredibly good photos of his dog over her lifetime, from comical to serious, with several different poses.

Just like when I take my own reference photos, I was quick to discard most of them, which still left a couple of dozen gems. Best of all, after more back and forth where I shared the ones I liked, Pat told me that Delta often sits with her paws crossed, something she’s done since she was a puppy. That pose was among my favourite photos, which is why he brought it up.

Anybody who does anything creative knows about happy accidents, those unexpected moments that give you something better than you could have planned. That engine part was going to fail anyway, but because it happened on the day I was going to take my own photos, I ended up with better reference than I would have shot myself. Of that, I have no doubt. And would I have found out about the crossed paws without seeing those photos Pat sent? Probably not.

I finished this painting on November 15th and sent the final image. I’m always nervous as I wait for the client’s response.

“I won’t sugar coat it. THIS IS AMAZING! It literally brought a tear to my eye, causing the delay in my reply. I’m blown away seeing Delta portrayed in your artistic style, I love it!”

Every commission includes a professional 18″ x 24″ metal or canvas print. It also includes shipping, but I like to deliver it myself whenever I can, especially since it often means getting to meet my subject. OK, fine, my clients, too.

As he is familiar with all my print options and owns at least one of every style, he chose metal with a black frame. He also ordered an extra one for his Mom in Saskatchewan, and three more smaller canvases for each of his siblings.

I’ve had the prints in my home for a little while, as Pat was away and I was busy with the Banff Christmas Market. But I was thrilled to deliver them to his and Vanessa’s home in Calgary on Tuesday this week. Not only did I get to meet Delta, but also her younger brother Luke, and it sounds like I might be painting him down the road as well. Both dogs were very sweet and friendly.

Pat and Vanessa sent me home with some delicious homemade holiday treats and a very nice art print that I’m eager to hang in my office. I’m going to take it in for framing next week and will share that later.

I’m so fortunate that my commission clients have all been so great to work with. As they’re most often already invested in my work, usually own some pieces already, and have read all about what’s involved from posts like this one, the experience is one I enjoy. It’s collaborative and a joint effort, which means the end result always feels more special than just “Here’s a picture, draw my dog.”

This was no different, and I loved painting Delta. Pat was great to work with and exceptionally patient, knowing it was already a very busy time of year for me. He didn’t have a deadline, and this wasn’t a “must be done by Christmas,” but I’m still glad it was anyway. It’s a nice way to end my year, working with a great client and creating a painting I’m pleased with.
I’ve already got my next few commissions lined up and will start the next one right away in January, but Delta felt like the right way to close out this year.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Three Cats at Last

You’ve all heard plenty about the three-cat commission I’ve been working on in recent months, so I’m pleased to finally reveal the finished painting of Fable, Mortdecai, and Jack.

Commissions are always challenging, involving plenty of photos and communication before I ever put down a brush stroke. I can’t get the likeness and personality right if I don’t know the subject.
While Mortdecai has some white in him, they’re all still black cats. Both black and white animals, wild or domestic, bring their own difficulties, mostly because they’re not really either. Black fur is defined by the light it reflects, and white fur has similar challenges. It’s the shading that gives the features depth and form.

These challenges don’t make them less desirable to paint, though. One of my favourite animals to paint is a raven. I enjoy working blue highlights and accents into black feathers and fur, finding that balance between too much and too little. That love of painting light on dark was a big part of this commission.
Tobi, my client, has a thing for ravens. A lot of the art in her home features them, and I can’t say I blame her. Shonna and I admired some striking raven pieces on her walls when we visited. Shonna likes ravens, too, and longtime followers might recall the aluminum print photo I gave her for her 50th birthday. You can see and read about it here.
Tobi has been following my work for quite some time. Along with other art in her collection, she owns many of my 11×14 poster prints and a few metal pieces. For this delivery, she had also ordered a custom 16×16 square-cropped metal print of my Winter Raven painting, along with the cat commission.

Tobi had requested a square version of that painting to match the size of the Blue Beak Raven metal print she already had, and I was happy to accommodate.Commissions require a lot of back-and-forth. My clients need to be part of the process, otherwise I may not be able to deliver what they want. I’m fortunate that those who have hired me to paint their pets have almost all been engaged and enthusiastic. They dig up photos, share stories, and talk about personalities and quirks. All of it helps me do my best work.

Tobi was a joy to work with. She gave me dozens of photos of all three cats, shared their backstories, and talked about their most prominent features. She also gave me plenty of time, which I’ve needed this year. The only pressure was self-inflicted.

Commissions are a significant financial investment, and I don’t take that lightly. Once someone has paid their 50% installment, I’ve got a ticking clock in my head that gets louder the more time passes. Between editorial cartoon deadlines, marketing, and other projects, I’m always trying to carve out time for whichever commission is on deck.
Because I knew three cats in one painting would take more time than any other commission I’ve done, I shared work-in-progress shots with Tobi and with all of you. I don’t usually do that, but since she’s been following my work for so long, I knew she could tell the difference between sketches, roughs, and a finished piece.

Sharing those early stages turned out to be a good decision. It’s tough to make three similar-looking cats look like individuals, but Tobi’s feedback on each cat helped me make subtle adjustments before the detail stage, which led to better likenesses for all three. Best of all, I could reassure her that I was making steady progress.

When I finally showed Tobi the finished painting on a Sunday morning a couple of weeks ago, I nervously waited for her reply. I always expect the worst until I hear otherwise. Thankfully, she didn’t make me wait long.

“The painting is PERFECT!!!! I’m absolutely dying over here, somewhere between laughing out loud and choking up a little bit, because you’ve captured all three of the boys so amazingly!! Their expressions and personalities are spot-on, I don’t even understand how it’s possible! I am overwhelmed and absolutely thrilled with it!”

That kind of reaction never gets old.
Once the metal print arrived, this shot taken with a lot of light, I arranged to deliver it to Tobi’s home in Calgary. Shonna came along for the ride, and we enjoyed the reveal in person. We also wanted to meet the cats, of course, but in true feline fashion, one ran away, one watched us from up the stairs, and the third never showed. Our old cat Muse was like that, too. Great with us, no time for anyone else.

As with all commissions, there’s a great sense of accomplishment when I deliver what a client has hired me to do. It’s humbling enough that anyone would buy the whimsical wildlife artwork I create on my own. But to hire me to paint their furry family members in my style is about the biggest compliment I get.

For all of you who have hired me to paint your pets, I remain grateful for your trust, and I hope your paintings make you smile each time you see them. And for those still waiting, thank you for your patience. I’ll do my best to make it worth the wait.

After I sent Tobi a selection of finished images for her use, something I include with every commission, she replied, “This has been such a great experience, and one that I’ll definitely be talking about for years to come.”

I’m working on a video about this piece and will share that with all of you soon.

Cheers,
Patrick

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When the Work Gets Heavy, Paint Something Light

I’ve been working on a commission of three cats, and it’s coming along well. The client has provided some valuable feedback on the images I’ve shared so far. I’ve also recorded a bunch of the process, written the video narrative, and I’m still working on that video and the painting itself.

Usually, I sit down, open a Spotify playlist, and start painting. When I’m recording a painting, however, I need to position the camera above my display, adjust the lighting so the viewer can see my hand, record for five or six minutes, move the camera away, paint some more, and then record another segment a half hour or so later. It can take me out of the groove of painting because I’m thinking about something else rather than getting lost in the work.

Once I finish recording, I need to export the files to an external hard drive, format them for ease of use, and bring them into my editing software. I then speed up the footage to prevent the viewer from getting bored. Next, I will record a ‘talking head’ portion, write the narrative to go along with it, possibly source and add some music. It involves several hours of technical work in addition to the painting.

Now, as I become more proficient, that process will become smoother and take less time. However, it’s a bit clunky right now. I don’t have a workflow yet. But I’m getting there.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit trapped by the work-for-hire stuff—both the editorial cartoons and the commissions.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful that I am able to make a living in a profession that often pairs the word starving with artist. But sometimes I need to remind myself of the reason I got into this in the first place, for the love of drawing.

So, I took a reset break and painted something just for fun.
I based this little fawn on reference I shot at Discovery Wildlife Park about three years ago. It’s still rough around the edges. I could add more detail and background, but for now, I’ll leave it and return to the commission.

Whenever I’m deep into one of these big paintings and hit a point where I’m not feeling it, it usually means it’s time to step away. A few days’ break lets me come back with fresh eyes, and I can see what’s missing. That pause-and-return approach has worked for almost every painting I’ve ever done.

This little one would make a cute vinyl sticker as-is, and I’ll likely add it to my new releases before the Banff Christmas Market. And who knows—after some time away from it, I may return with new inspiration to add more detail, a background and turn it into a print.

As always, I’d love to hear your thoughts. Feel free to share them in the comments.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Painting Timber

After seven years living in Banff, Shonna and I bought our modest townhouse condo in Canmore in 2001. We live in an end unit, which means only one neighbour. Anybody who has had the experience knows that whoever shares your walls has a direct impact on how you feel about your home.  Considerate neighbours are worth their weight in gold, and in an ideal world, you get what you give.

This brings me to Chris and Cindy, who rented the place next to us for the past eight years — the best neighbours we’ve ever had.

We didn’t socialize in each other’s homes, but we’d hang out in our shared driveway or backyard, drinking coffee and becoming friends. Chris was home all day like me, and in a bizarre twist of fate, he is also a digital cartoonist and animator, though not full-time. It was great to have somebody next door who spoke the same language.

About five years ago, in the middle of the day, I was walking back from taking the garbage to the dumpster and saw Chris sitting on his front step. Standing on the strip of grass beside his sidewalk was a large puppy.

As she saw me approach, she politely sat down, and that’s when I fell in love with Timber.
Cindy volunteered with the local SPCA shelter here. And though they had fostered another dog that eventually went to live with her parents in Calgary, they hadn’t found the right one for them until they met Timber.

She is what folks around here call a Morley mutt, named for the First Nations reserve just outside the mountains. They’re often strays or abandoned from the city, but many I’ve met have become the most friendly dogs around. Whether true or not, it’s a well-known joke around here that Canmore has more dogs than kids, and I love that about this town.

Chris and Cindy are doting dog parents, and Timber is their spoiled child. With two or three-hour walks each day and the best health and food she could ask for, that dog won the lottery. And so did they. She’s not a needy dog, doesn’t require your attention, and frankly, doesn’t tolerate it from many people. She’s not aggressive, just disinterested.

The best line I ever heard about her was from Cindy. “Timber is three cats in a dog’s body.”

Much to my welcome surprise, however, Timber likes Shonna and me, and the feeling is mutual. For Timber, that means she’ll tolerate the hugs, kisses and mauling for five minutes instead of no minutes. When she’d had enough, she’d go inside, leaving Chris and I out on the step with our coffee.

One of my favourite things was getting a text from Chris every day or two, with a photo of Timber sitting on the grass in front of our door, not hers, with the caption, “Dog on the lawn.”

I’d drop whatever I was doing, scurry down the two flights of stairs from my office, and open the door to a wagging tail, exclaiming, “Hi Baby!” or something like that, and then I’d maul and hug her and tell her she was pretty.

The running joke was only then would I offer a less than enthusiastic, “Oh, yeah…hi Chris.”

It was often the highlight of my day.

I think I only heard her bark three times in the years she lived next door. Two were playful; one was not.

Chris and I stood outside one night talking about a large black bear frequenting the neighbourhood. Timber suddenly started growling and let out a large bark at the fence next to our property. Knowing his dog, Chris guessed the bear was in the yard on the other side of the fence. We retreated into our homes.

Shonna and I often said if we ever heard Timber barking next door, we’d run over to check what was wrong. Thankfully, neither Chris nor Cindy ever fell down the well. (That’s a Lassie reference. Ask your grandparents.)

I have taken many pictures of Timber over the years and always planned to get to a painting. But as art is what I do for a living, I rarely have time for personal projects anymore. And with best-laid plans, I never got to it.

Life in this valley is ridiculously expensive, and when you’re paying a premium for rent, even the beauty of the Canadian Rockies can lose its lustre. Add to that a property management company that seemed to find any reason to target Chris and Cindy for the slightest infraction while letting others around here get away with everything; the day came when they’d had enough. Though we didn’t want to see them go, we couldn’t blame them.

Cindy and Chris bought a home in Calgary in the spring. Before they left, they hired me to paint a portrait of Timber in my style.

While they already liked my work and wanted to give me free rein, I asked for guidance, as with all my commission clients. Before long, I got the personal requests I like. Timber is always wearing a bandana; though she has many, they have a favourite. It has a faded hand-lettered label, and Chris sent me more reference pictures. Canmore dog tags are little hearts, whereas Calgary’s are rectangles. We opted not to put any writing on it, as it would be an unnecessary distraction.

Chris also wrote a long, sarcastic, entertaining email with hilarious details, telling me how many whiskers Timber has on each side of her muzzle, the exact Pantone colours I needed to match on different parts of her face, and other ridiculous technical specifics.

At some point in our many exchanges, I sent the following sketch with something like, “Done. Pay me.”
He printed and framed it and sent a photo of it hanging on their wall.

Because they knew I would undercut myself, they sent the first installment before I could uncomfortably ask for one. Their timeline was “sometime in the next five years.”

I wasn’t about to take advantage of their generosity, so I prioritized it as much as possible. I always want to give every client my best effort, but because I know this dog so well, I obsessed over this painting, probably for much longer than I needed to.
I sent the finished image, and they were thrilled, which made me doubly happy. Because they already had a shadowbox framed 18X24 canvas of my Wolf painting, they wanted Timber’s to match.
 
When it arrived, however, there was a slight blemish near the bottom of the canvas, a flaw that wasn’t on the image file. It was minor, but once you see that kind of thing, you never unsee it. While damage is rare, my printers have always been great with replacing problem prints. Still, the turnaround time meant I couldn’t deliver until the week before Christmas, as Shonna and I wouldn’t be able to get into Calgary together. We haven’t seen them since they moved.

I foolishly tried to repair the canvas with a gold paint pen, which probably worsened it. Without the materials or experience I’d need to fix it, I took it to my friend Derek Turcotte at Electric Grizzly Tattoo and asked if he could help. He’s an incredible airbrush artist.

Derek said he was willing to try. I assured him he couldn’t make it worse as I would have to replace it anyway.
I brought it to Derek’s house a couple of days later, and he matched the colour, finely sprayed the small area a few times, and saved the canvas. You can’t tell there was ever a problem, and you can still see my underlying brush strokes. I held the canvas while he painted with the airbrush, so we staged the above photo after the fact, knowing I’d want to write about it.

If you’re reading this, Derek, thanks again for your help, buddy. You’re awesome.
Of course, the best part of any commission is delivering it to the client, especially when it’s this personal. Shonna and I drove to Chris and Cindy’s place in Calgary last Saturday. Chris correctly advised that I leave the canvas in the car until after we saw Timber so it wouldn’t get damaged. We pulled up, and once out of the car, Chris let Timber loose on the front lawn. She was excited to see us and ran out for attention we were eager to give.

She was wearing the same bandanna.

They loved the painting, and we spent a great afternoon catching up and visiting. They also have Cindy’s parents’ dog now and she’s a real sweetheart. The two dogs get along great, and it’s nice that each has a buddy.

To her credit, Timber was very patient and accepted a lot more attention from us than she’d usually tolerate. Those old neighbours. So needy.

While we have a new neighbour who is considerate and quiet, it’s not the same without Chris, Cindy and Timber next door. We miss all three of them.

But people make mistakes. Theirs was telling us where they live now.

____
For more information about my custom pet portraits, please visit the Commissions page. Thanks!
____

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Painting Lucas – A Commission

I’m happy to share my latest custom painting of a cute little fellow named Lucas.

This was a memorial piece. That anyone commissions me to paint their furry-faced loved one to help them with their grief, and eventually turn sadness into happy memories, isn’t something I take lightly.

Sarah has been following my work for some time. In a recent issue of A Wilder View, I mentioned and shared my commission of Santé from a couple of years ago, prompting Sarah to ask about a painting of her little guy in my style.

She sent one photo with her inquiry, and I was instantly smitten with his little face. Lucas was a tiny little Yorkie who looked like a real-life cartoon character. I tempered my enthusiasm, wanting to see more photos and discuss Sarah’s expectations.

People often think that commissions are cut and dry. Here’s a photo, paint my dog. Several times in my career, I’ve had people ask for a very short deadline and balk that a custom painting costs more than $50. It’s one of the main reasons I turn down more commissions than I accept.

But when I’m working with a client who not only knows my art style and realizes the amount of time and effort a custom painting takes, it’s a thoroughly enjoyable experience. Sarah was a pleasure to work with.

Just a few of the more than a dozen reference photos I had to work from. Just a haircut can make the same dog look like a different pup. It’s then up to the client to point me in the right direction.

For the first month, before I even began sketching, she sent me several photos in different poses. Lucas often looked different from one photo to the next because of the length of his hair, age, and the colouring that had changed throughout his life. With these variables, I needed to narrow down how Sarah wanted him to look. Short or long hair? More grey hair than tan? Puppy, senior, or somewhere in between?

Communication is key with every commission. I can’t do my best work if I don’t know which details are essential to the client.

Finally, Sarah suggested an outdoor setting and mentioned that she had wanted to take him for a photo shoot with dandelions but never got to do that. I thought posing him in that environment sounded like a wonderful idea.

When I sent the final image at the beginning of August, Sarah responded, “I’m overwhelmed with your portrait of my little man, his eyes and all that hair! His cute little head tilt and the hint of a smile as he sits in the flowers is just perfect. I showed my Mom and she said she had a smile through tears and that was me too. What an incredible amount of work, I probably can’t really imagine but it is very obvious in the finished image!”

However…

“There isn’t anything wrong, but I am wondering how difficult it might be to make a small change to Lucas’ nose? He had a wee dimple at the top centre that gave it even more of a “heart” shaped appearance.”

I had painted Lucas with more of a rounded nose at the top like I do with some of my whimsical wildlife images. It’s often a feature of my cartoony style. But going back through the reference images, I saw that dimple detail in all the photos. I just didn’t put the weight into it that someone who knew Lucas would. In my opinion, that means I got it wrong.

Back to the drawing board, I corrected my mistake, and Sarah was pleased when I sent the revision. I’m genuinely relieved she mentioned it. Had she not, I expect it would be a distraction each time she looked at the painting, thinking, ‘Too bad he got the nose wrong.’Though Sarah and her spouse live near Edmonton, and I could ship the painting, she and her Mom had planned for a couple of nights in Canmore this past weekend, and I delivered the 18”X24” stretched canvas to their hotel. I took them outside into the sunlight for the reveal so they could see the bright colours and the details. Whether on paper, metal or canvas, my work always looks better in print than on a screen. People have been saying that to me for years. Sarah said it, too.

She started to cry and finally managed, “It’s him.”

I don’t get better compliments than happy tears.

The 18″X24″ canvas, which of course looks better in real life. Blame the photographer.

 

Thanks again for trusting me with this most personal of paintings, Sarah. I’m so pleased you’re happy with it.

I’m working on another commission that I hope to finish soon. With my current workload, they’re taking a little longer than usual, but thankfully, Sarah and my other client didn’t have deadlines. That’s an important factor when I consider taking on a custom piece, whether I can deliver what I promise.

If you’d like to learn more about what’s involved with hiring me for a custom pet portrait in my whimsical style, please visit my Commissions page.

Cheers,
Patrick

 

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Painting Luna

While commissions are a small part of my overall work and business, I’ve enjoyed the pet portraits I’ve painted over the years. All have been challenging, either the artwork or managing client expectations. Though I have my personal favourites, I’ve learned something valuable from each.

A couple of years ago, my friend and marketing guru David Duchemin suggested my rates were too low. Artists are notorious for undervaluing their skills, often attracting the wrong clients, those more interested in a bargain than the artwork.

A commission is a custom portrait requiring consultation, preparation, printing, and shipping/delivery, plus many hours of actual painting. Unlike my whimsical wildlife portraits, which can be sold as prints and licensed, a commission is an original work created for one client.

David asked me to consider whether I would rather have more clients at a lower rate or fewer clients at a rate more appropriate to the years I’ve put into my skills and the unique look of my critters.

I took that to heart and raised my rate because when I’m painting a commissioned piece, that’s time that can’t be spent painting anything else.

On my site, I’m upfront about pricing, the photos I need for reference, and the details a client needs to make an informed decision without making it awkward if the price is out of their range. I’m happy to answer inquiries, but with my daily editorial cartoons and new whimsical wildlife pieces, the commission work is welcome when it comes in, but I don’t actively market it.

My first and last paintings of 2022 were pet portraits, both thoroughly enjoyable experiences with great clients, nice bookends for the year.
Santé was a memorial piece. Suzanne wanted my whimsical style and a full-body action pose, something I hadn’t yet painted in a commission. She wanted the painting to portray the active and joyful full life that Santé led and had the photo reference to back it up. While difficult, it stretched my skills, and I was pleased with the result. Click here to read more about that experience in the original post.

Near the end of October, I got an email from a man in Calgary asking me to paint his dog Luna, a gift for his wife. He’d read the Commissions page, knew what he wanted, and even included some initial reference photos. Talk about a good start.

We’d briefly discussed a possible commission at the Calgary Expo in April, but while I get several inquiries at that event, this is the first one that has resulted in a hire.

Given the time of year, I assumed this was a Christmas present. However, when I asked, he replied, “not a huge rush, if we got it for Christmas it would be a great surprise, but I’m not overly concerned if we don’t get it until the new year.”

I thought that if we could reach an agreement quickly, I would make that surprise happen.

I asked if he could take more photos for me, offering a little guidance on what would be ideal. He got right to it and I ended up with great bunch of reference. In one of them, I noticed she had a little brandy keg around her neck, and I asked him if I could paint her in a winter scene with that keg. Sure, it’s a cliché image of a St. Bernard, but it was too perfect a fit, and I could see the painting in my head. Jeremy liked the idea and said that Luna loves the snow.
At the beginning of December, I sent him the finished piece for approval before it went to the printer. Of the options I offer, he had initially chosen an 18X24 canvas, and while that would have looked great, I talked him into going with the same size matte metal piece instead. With the bright, vibrant colours in this painting, I knew it would pop a lot more on metal.

I’ve been having my metal and canvas prints done by Posterjack for over a year now. Everything is always well-packed, and this was no exception. The colours and quality of the Luna print were stunning.

But you can imagine my disappointment when I noticed some slight damage in the bottom right corner. There was no damage to the box and it was wrapped well inside. In their busy season, somebody likely knocked it during production and failed to notice before packing it. It was a tiny dent, only noticeable on close inspection.

I put some foam wrapping around the corner and gently bent it back into place with some pliers. Then I took a white paint pen, blended it with a little blue and smudged over the corner with a Q-Tip, blending it as best I could into the sky and snow background. It was the only corner of the painting where this could have worked. I did a pretty good job of it, too, but I could still see the damage.

While setting up and working at markets, no matter how careful I’ve been, I’ve dinged a couple of these myself in the same way. I might bump one, and it falls off the gridwall, that sort of thing. In those cases, I’ll offer a discount to anyone interested in that piece, which is usually acceptable. It’s almost always barely noticeable and this was the same type of subtle damage.

But this was a custom commission.

I told the client about it; said I’d still drive it in the next day and see what he thought. He wasn’t too concerned, but I wasn’t comfortable with his settling for a damaged print. But at least he’d have the piece to give to his wife for Christmas, and I could replace it afterward.

I sent Posterjack a photo of the damage, and they immediately offered a replacement. However, since I wasn’t sure it would arrive before Christmas, I delivered the print I had.

Of course, while preparing to deliver the piece, I had to ask, “do I get to meet Luna?”
She’s exactly as you’d expect, a big slobbery friendly St. Bernard with the sweetest face and lovable eyes. I would have liked to have taken a better photo with her, but Jeremy and I met in their enclosed front porch, with Luna and her Newfoundland sister, Sally, between us. As they’re both BIG dogs, it was a little cramped, but Jen was home, so there was a risk of ruining the surprise.

The replacement print arrived five days later. I inspected it and wrapped it back up right away to keep it safe. I sent my Posterjack contact an email thanking them for standing by their product. Nothing secures my loyalty more than great service. Too many companies have forgotten that.

In ideal conditions, I could have gone to Calgary again to replace it before Christmas, but our weather turned incredibly nasty, temperatures between -30 and -40C every day all week, right after the starter in my car began to grind intermittently. Not the safest set of circumstances for a trip into the city.

With the starter replaced last week and this cold snap departed, I’ll soon arrange to make the exchange. I plan to display the original print at Expo in April, a full-size example to point to for any commission inquiries. In the meantime, I’ll hang it in my office because I do love it; such a fun piece to paint.
As for Jenny’s reaction, Jeremy sent me some pictures Christmas morning. Let me tell you, tears are the best compliment I ever get.

Click here for more information about pet portrait commissions. If you have any questions, drop me a line at patrick@nulllamontagneart.com

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Peaks and Valleys

Last month, I finished what could easily be called my favourite commission piece to date. For those who’ve hired me for commissions in the past, don’t take that personally. I’ve enjoyed almost all the pet portraits I’ve painted. But this last one represented some notable artistic growth, which has become a rare thing.

When I first started drawing and painting, it was easy to take large leaps. Looking back on my earlier work, I can see considerable improvement over time as short as six months. Because I wasn’t very good at it, was hungry for new skills, and had no shortage of exceptional artists to learn from, I couldn’t help but get better if I kept putting in the hours.

Over time, however, my skills became more and more refined, as any creative should expect, and my work, especially in my style, reached a plateau. I had found the look that identifies my art, something most artists chase. People who know my work can easily spot it, even if they don’t see my name, just as I can spot the work of artists I follow.

I’m still always seeking to get better, but any improvement is often most noticeable to me. I get better at light and shadow, the way fur and hair flows, subtle shaping of features to reinforce the balance between whimsy and realism without straying too far into that phenomenon known as the uncanny valley.

People often say that my work looks “cartoony, but real.”

I’ve heard it said so often that I’ll occasionally use it myself when somebody tries to describe it but can’t find the right words.

I’m always trying to push the realism, mostly to challenge myself, without going so far that it becomes creepy and unappealing.

So, it isn’t just about painting better hair, fur, skin textures and personality in my funny-looking animals, but knowing when to stop. I suspect I’ll find that out the hard way one day and need to dial it back. I’m confident that Shonna will let me know.

This recent commission taught me I (thankfully) still have plenty of room for improvement. As I wrote about in that post, the client requested a full-body action pose because that’s how she wanted to remember her dog, Santé.

She didn’t insist on it, but it was her preference. And the last thing I want is for a client to be mostly happy with a finished painting but still think, “it’s good, but not what I really wanted.”

It was something I wanted to try but was afraid of because I didn’t think I was good enough to pull it off.

In every painting, there are peaks and valleys. The spark of the idea, taking and choosing reference photos, and imagining different options are always high points. But once the first brush strokes hit the digital canvas, so begins a slow decline. I find that the first half of a painting is simply putting in the hours, and there isn’t a lot of enjoyment there.

But somewhere in the middle, the fun starts when it starts to reveal what it might become. Sometimes it peaks again and then crashes when something doesn’t work, which can take hours to repair. The more time it takes to get through that valley, the more I think the whole piece sucks, I’ve lost it, and there’s no saving it.

But a brush stroke here, some light and shadow there, I solve the issue and again find the joy in it.

The best part of any painting is the last two hours. I have a playlist on Spotify reserved just for this period in a painting. It’s called ‘Pick Me Up,’ With that playing in the earbuds, drinking hot black coffee, often in the early morning hours, I’ll finish the piece and feel good about it.

That euphoria lasts a few hours, but I’m heading back down to the next valley by that evening, wondering what to paint next. Or I’ve shifted back into editorial cartoon mode and following the news, which can be like dark clouds ruining a sunny day.

Of course, there are other peaks for most paintings. The feedback I get from readers and subscribers is gratifying; those who follow my work and are kind enough to post a comment or send an email telling me how much they like the new piece. And if a new painting isn’t one they especially like, they’re usually kind enough to keep that to themselves.

I’m under no illusion that every painting is a winner.

Another peak is the first time I get a print because it never feels real or complete until I see it in real life. Most of the time, it’s when the first poster print proof arrives from Art Ink Print. Proofing with that company has become just a formality. I know how to prepare an image for their press, and they know what my work is supposed to look like, so I can’t remember the last time I had to reproof an image because the first one didn’t look right, but it’s been several years.

When the 18”x24” matte aluminum print of the latest commission arrived, it was a very good day. I checked it for flaws and couldn’t find any. However, I discovered that while the white background was smooth, the painted area was slightly raised with a noticeable texture. This was an unexpected but welcome happy accident that added even more to the print.

And there is the valley of apprehension of packaging and shipping the piece, waiting for it to arrive, or driving to deliver the work to the client. Finally, after more than two months of back and forth, sourcing the photos, discussing the approach, many hours of painting, sending periodic progress updates, her financial investment in the piece, it all comes down to the delivery and reveal.

No pressure.

Suzanne had already seen the image via email, but as I said, it’s not quite real until you see it in print.

Thankfully, she was pleased with it. We had earlier discussed some of her other artwork, and she generously showed me other pieces in her collection, including the first piece she bought of mine online from Wayfair. While I’ve had this license for some time, I’ve never actually seen one of the canvases in person, and I was pleased with the quality.
It’s always flattering to see my work in somebody’s home, especially a canvas of one of my personal favourites, my Berkley painting called “Peanuts.”

Even before I got home to Canmore, Suzanne had hung the print and sent me photos she generously allowed me to share.

As much as I love meeting clients in person, especially one who was such a pleasure to work with, and while delivering the painting is the pinnacle of all those peaks and valleys, there was an unexpected bonus to the day that can’t be minimized.
I got to meet Suzanne’s new little wonder, River, a black lab puppy, who is in that lovable, awkward, too small for her big paws stage.

From the dark valley of having to say goodbye to her best friend, Suzanne now gets the peak experience of providing a home to a new dog and introducing her to adventures around every corner.

Under Santé’s watchful eye.
_____

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Painting a Dog’s Best Life


Late last year, one of my subscribers inquired about a commission of her dog, Santé. Sadly, Suzanne lost her much-loved pup to osteosarcoma at the end of November, and she wanted a painting to remember her.

The initial back and forth conversation is an essential part of every commission. It allows me to get to know both the person and the subject, and it helps me decide if I’m the right artist for the job, especially for a memorial piece.

While I can paint both in portrait style and my signature whimsical style, I’ll admit to preferring the latter, but most people who hire me for memorials choose the portrait style.

Suzanne, however, wanted to remember Santé at her best, and as she’s followed my work for some time, she requested the whimsical style.

Initially, Suzanne sent me a photo of Santé running through the water with a stick in her mouth and asked if I could paint her like that. I was reluctant for a couple of reasons.

My style is about the face and expression, best revealed by a large headshot painting, like much of my work.
Also, I haven’t painted many full-body action poses, and to be honest, I wasn’t sure I could pull it off. Fear of failure is a powerful demotivator.

As part of her grieving process, Suzanne wrote a long essay about her life with her dog and shared that with me so I could get to know her as well. So I made a cup of tea one afternoon and sat down in the kitchen to read it.

I don’t mind admitting that it got me right in the heartstrings, and I had to wipe away tears. But, sad ending aside, it was a good story, and Suzanne is an excellent writer.

She is an outdoor enthusiast, frequently mountain biking and hiking, with Santé by her side. After reading about Santé’s adventurous nature, her boundless energy and obsessive love of sticks, I couldn’t imagine painting her any other way. That dog lived her best life.

Suzanne provided plenty of photos, but the first was the best, Santé running in the water with a stick in her mouth.

But I don’t just want to copy an image, especially in the whimsical style. I want to make it my own. So, I exaggerated her expression and gave her a big grin. You can’t see Santé’s teeth in the reference photo, so I found additional reference for that, as it helped a lot with the smile around that stick. I also exaggerated the size of the stick and changed its shape for a better overall composition.
The water spray from her feet was one of the biggest challenges I’ve faced in any painting I’ve done to date. It took many hours to get it right, not to mention all the tiny droplets to add action to the scene.

Instead of filling the entire background, I created a graphic shape of the water and painted Santé so that she was running out of it, adding to the illusion of action.

This painting took a long time, but it was well worth the effort. Not only did it stretch my skills, but necessity forced me to learn a few new techniques to bring this to life. It was overcoming the challenge that made the final piece so satisfying.

I’m a frequent proponent of printing my work on canvas. It brings out the textures and richness in many paintings, especially the detail I paint in my work. But I gave Suzanne another option, and after providing her with more information, she’s chosen an 18″ X 24″ matte aluminum. Given the dynamic nature of this painting, I think it was the best choice, and I’m looking forward to seeing it once it arrives.

When I shared the final image with her Saturday morning, less than an hour after I finished it, Suzanne told me that it was the 11th anniversary of the day she brought Santé home at eight weeks old and shared a pic with me. That puppy didn’t yet know she had won the lottery and was about to have a grand adventure.

Of the painting, Suzanne wrote, “I love it. It’s perfect. You added the whimsy and didn’t lose an ounce of “her” in the process. Thank you so much for making the effort to know her to paint her.”

Cheers,
Patrick

Please visit this page if you’d like to know more about my pet portrait commissions.

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Paintings, Projects and Possibilities

Here’s a secret that likely won’t shock you.

Whenever I write a post, there’s a good chance that there was a first draft that descended into a rant about social media. Then I re-read it, realize (again) that nobody wants to read that crap, delete it and start over.

I had about 1000 words written this time before I rolled my eyes, shook my head, and began again.

You know that person who constantly rages about how much they hate Justin Trudeau (or Trump, or Jason Kenney, or Erin O’Toole, or insert name here), and you think, “Ugh, we get it, you don’t like the guy. Move on!”

I don’t want to be that guy when it comes to social media. Sure, I’ll still do cartoons about it from time to time because the exodus is growing, it’s in the news, and that’s my job, but I’ve already left those platforms.

So, I’m moving on.

But I don’t regret the time spent writing that rant because it’s like journaling. Sometimes you just need to purge that bad energy, and I’m glad I kept it to myself.

Now for some good news. This year is starting quite well, despite the last one ending on a down note.

First, I’ve started a new commission of a beautiful dog. Sadly, she passed away late last year, which usually means the client wants a traditional portrait as a memorial. But this client has been following my work for quite some time, and she wants to remember her dog as happy and full of life, so I get to paint her in my signature whimsical style. This dog was an energetic outdoor pup, always up for mountain bike trips, hiking, chasing sticks, and high-energy activities, so the client kept steering me toward a full-body action pose, with great photos to back it up.

I’ll admit that the request made me nervous. My work is all about the face and expression, and a full-body can often mean some of that gets lost because the head and face will be smaller. But after some back and forth and reviewing the photos, I soon came around to her way of thinking.

I’ve started the piece, and I’m enjoying the challenge.

I talked about this with my buddy, Derek, on a recent visit to Electric Grizzly Tattoo. Derek’s an incredible painter, and it’s great to have another artist I can talk to about this stuff. When I told him about this commission, that it scared me a little, and I wasn’t sure I could pull it off, I qualified it with, “but, you know what happens when you challenge yourself.”

Derek put his hand out flat in front of him for a second, then raised it about a foot.

He gets it.

Facing the scary stuff is the only way you take your skills to the next level.

Speaking of Derek, he recently introduced me to a whole new project he was exploring and suggested I join him in the endeavour. Each of us will be promoting our own work, so we’re not partnering on it, simply going down the same road. He made some introductions on my behalf, and we navigated it together. It’s an opportunity that might go nowhere but could also change our careers for the better.

From initial tire-kicking less than two weeks ago to serious discussions with the parties involved, Derek and I have signed agreements and are excited about the possibilities. But, having been down this kind of road before, we’re tempering our enthusiasm with a liberal dose of reality.

As in all things speculative, you hope for the best outcome but allow for the worst. What I like about the project is that there was a short deadline to get involved, with no room for procrastination. We had to get our shit together inside of a small window to make the launch dates. So, rather than talk it to death, we did our due diligence, got to work, and climbed aboard.

I realize this is vague, but until it launches, revealing specifics would be premature. I only mention it because it’s nice to focus on something with positive potential, given all we’ve dealt with the past two years.

At a time when so many people are tearing each other down, it’s gratifying that a fellow artist and friend discovered an opportunity and invited me along. He didn’t have to.  

I’m also working on two other painting projects. First, I’ve finally started the elephant as I want it done for Expo, which isn’t that far away. And it won’t be long before Mike at Pacific Music & Art needs another selection of paintings to consider for the 2023 calendar. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have the elephant in there?
There is also a much larger project I’m doing, involving several paintings of Burrowing Owls. So you can expect to see plenty of these characters pop up in posts over the next few months, each with different poses and expressions.

Between the commission, the elephant, the burrowing owls, the painting course, editorial cartoons and the daily support stuff I do for my business, I have an overflowing plate. But I’m not complaining. I’m at my best when I’ve got plenty to do.

I’m just happy to look to the horizon and see many more positive possibilities than negative realities.

Cheers,
Patrick

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Collars and Colours on Canvas

A couple of months ago, I shared a finished commission piece of Bomber. Here’s the link to that post.

This was a unique experience for a few reasons. The person who hired me was not the person with whom I had worked or who received the painting— it was a gift commission. As I mentioned in that post, the experience was ideal. The gift giver and the recipient were terrific to work with, and I have nothing but fond memories of that commission.

The recipient often works for periods of time in one province but lives in another, and not the next one over, either.

So when it came time to ship the canvas, Bomber’s Mom asked me to send it to her work address, so when she was missing being home with her dog, she’d have the art to keep her company. I kind of liked that.
I finished this painting in February and shipped it shortly after. While Sharon has seen the image and was happy with it, she didn’t get to see the 12”X16” canvas until last week.

I’m proud of the quality of my poster prints; otherwise, I wouldn’t sell them. The quality available today versus what was possible and affordable twenty years ago is night and day. Art Ink Print in Victoria does my poster prints, and it has gotten to the point where I rarely need to proof them because they do such a great job. They know my work and how it’s supposed to look. I can rely on them to make it look the way I want it to, and I never have to apologize to my customers, as the prints they order consistently exceed their expectations.

I sent an additional poster print of this commission to the person who hired me, a little bonus and keepsake.

Despite how much I like my poster prints, I’ve been telling people for years that my work looks best on canvas. There’s just something about the added texture of the fibres and the giclée print quality from ABL Imaging in Calgary. It makes the image pop, the colours look richer, and I’m always pleasantly surprised when I see the first canvas printing of a piece.

A little unsolicited advice to artists; if you’re going to print your work, don’t go for the cheapest you can find. People will pay for quality. You want to look at your own prints and think, “yeah, I’m happy to put my signature on that!”

I took photos of the Bomber canvas before I shipped it but didn’t want to share it until after Sharon had seen it. The photos still don’t do it justice, because iPhones have a tendency to wash out the lighter areas, which you can see in the top image and closeup. Even still, why would I want to dilute her moment of seeing the painting at its best?

She sent a message last week with this…

“I wanted to send you a note to let you know I finally made it back to ___ and just opened the package. You were right, it does hit different in person! It’s even more perfect than the picture. It’s up hanging in my office now and will remind me every day of home.”

There are few things I like better than happy clients.
—
If you’d like more information about commissions, you can read about them on my site, either in the post I linked to at the beginning of this piece, or on my Commissions page.

Cheers,
Patrick

© Patrick LaMontagne
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