It’s nerve wracking at the beginning, meeting the models, I mean. Soon I shall render their muscle and bone (sounds medieval cruel doesn’t it) trace out sinew and blood vessels. I shall note the textures of skin and the imperfections of age, the stretch marks, those sagging eyelids. hooding bright brown eyes.
I shall be a novice at drawing horses in horse country America. What present electric titillation to be near them, to five-sense them decades removed from my first magnetic connection to them, knowing how ancestors kept and bred horses and their kin, and how in a further sense this mob gave me their okay making their bold self-introductions. Then, seeming to put my energy and excitement at ease they went to own tasks.
They took my measure and made no fuss about me the remainder of my studio. Unremarkable, another random biped.
Incidental as I may’ve been, I still enjoy my initiate status. I am thrilled make each meeting. Everything is a possibility. I shall not forget to keep that jewel for myself forever. Naif or old-salt, every day is full of opportunity. And of golden surprises.
Accepted by horses. It should be in my Artist’s statement.