"The Friendly Setters"

“The Friendly Setters”
Oil on Belgian linen; 36 x 36”
Collection Casavant
Tryon, North Carolina
©2022 Karen Killian

Mr. Casavant loves sporting art and wanted this painting for the foyer of “Friendly Hills”, his English Tudor estate, built and named in 1924, now undergoing a sublime restoration. Sadly though, he doesn’t have any dogs! I suggested that he get two English Setter puppies and keep me on retainer until they are old enough to pose for this shot. (Right? Puppies!!!!!) He said, “No!” 😜😜😜 

I essentially made them up from old studies of mine, breeders’ and trainers’ photos, and I’m ever inspired by my favorite sporting art master, Percival Leonard Rosseau, American (1859-1937). I’ve never done a commission for anyone who didn’t have the subjects, yet I can tell you that by the time I finished this painting, I knew them well. Meet Cleo, the Tricolor, always on the scent and a little prissy! But the Orange Belton is nothing if not suave. I’ll call him Bert, after my likewise suave Dad who hunted with his English Setters. I’ve loved them all my life! This project has been on some back burner of my mind since I’ve been painting dogs. It was a well-bred collaboration. Thank you, Mr. Casavant! 😊👩🏻‍🎨💫

#englishsetters #sportingart #fineart #vasari_oil_paint #claessenscanvas
#friendlyhills #cleoandbert #allegory #thewatermarkstudio

“The Friendly Setters” (detail)
Early morning, late fall, and a little piece of de tail! 
#blueridgemountains

The Rock.

All of the elements and layers of this painting crept together like a 3,000 piece jigsaw puzzle.
Architectural rendering?
Or artist’s impression?
Exactly how far in the distance?
You want the lights on?
The PORTICO light?
How much patience?
How much fun? There were moments I thought, “this is the most fun I’ve ever had!” 
Mostly artist’s impression! 👩🏻‍🎨💫

Suave Bert

Prissy Cleo

A Tail of Two Setters
#glowbaby

©2022 Karen Killian

Gosh, the splotches on the easel next to the spots on my hand… ah, patinas! If I think of something funny to say about this, I’ll let you know! 👍🏻

Duke & Oakley

A Cinderella Story 

A beautiful 2-year old, painfully malnourished, Golden Retriever, a cold horse barn in Massachusetts, a rope, and an Idiot… She was keeping him tied up there just to put him out to stud. I heard about this because a friend of a friend, whose daughter started riding lessons there, etc, etc… it was torturous for me to wait until someone could convince said Idiot to give up her puppy mill fanta$y and her sad puppy. Oakley and I were in Florida when I got the go-ahead. I called Oakley’s friend, Chuck, in Connecticut. I said, “I’m coming home, and we’re going to get this dog! Tell the wife, alert the neighbors, buy a comfy dog bed and put it by the fire. We’re going to get this dog. You need him as much as he needs you!”
On a starkly white, bitter cold day, we drove two hours to find Duke, sure enough, tethered collar to rafter, so that he couldn’t chew his way to freedom. I’ll skip the steps it took us to get from that heart-wrenching moment to firing up the getaway car. Suffice it to say that I could go to hell just for what I was thinking about that Idiot, who said, “Bye now. If it doesn’t work out, just bring him back.” *When pigs fly!!!!
It’s an understatement to say that it wasn’t the easiest drive back, nor the easiest transition. Duke was frantically and understandably nuts, having never been in a car, or a house!! I went home after a very long day, knowing that Chuck was questioning my “you need him…” argument! Then he called me, and everyone around, about ten that first night, “He’s gone!!” … “Oh, God, what had I wrought?” It had to be some very magic New England village voodoo that the local sheriff picked him up sometime after midnight and got him back home.
But home it became! With the patience of Job, Chuck got Duke a nice fence around a huge yard, a dog door, and good food to fill out his big self. Duke, in turn, settled into a mellower mien on that bed by the fire, and, in pretty short order, they became the most enduring partnership dog and man could imagine! I took to calling them both by the same name: Chuck’nDuke! 
And then he got his portrait painted… Big Shot!!! 

Duke, you…
"Done Good!" 
Oil; 11 x 14"
Collection Charles Hedge
©2011 Karen Killian

"We're Good!"
Oakley, with her good buddy, Chuck, on the porch at Riverside, his wonderful antiques store next to the studio at The Brush Factory, Centerbrook, CT
Oil on linen; 9 x 11″
Collection Charles Hedge
©2008 Karen Killian

Godspeed, Zorba!

An Important Friendship

An Important Friendship: there is no end to the appreciation that I feel for Charles Hedge.

I took over a wonderful architects’ studio at The Brush Factory, Centerbrook, Connecticut, in 2007, and met Chuck there, with his Riverside Antiques Store next door. My young Golden, Oakley, fell in love with him at first sniff, but he always liked to say that he and I hated each other right out of the gate! A little strong, but true maybe. Still, after she waded and “fished” in the river, Oakley liked to sit on his porch with him… so much so that we had to get over ourselves. Somehow we became good friends who sparred, and it was fun almost always! Years passed.

It’s a well-documented story about how I “made” Chuck adopt Duke and how they became Chuck’nDuke! (It is reprinted here with Duke’s portrait.) He never lost his love for Oakley though, and he was in my studio for coffee the Sunday morning that my six-year-old “puppy” collapsed. Chuck drove O and me to the emergency vet, and 45 minutes later he drove me home. But I couldn’t stay there, so I went to Chuck and Ellen’s, we sat by the fire and cried, and they loved me through it.

Then I went through a devastating time of my own in ’13, and Chuck, as was always his way, was there. He picked me up at the hospital. He listened to me when I refused to claim this diagnosis, though I know he thought I was nuts. He worried about me, and he never let me forget it. I always said, “Just Stop It! Don’t you know that worry is nothing more than planning for something you don’t want?” He brought me food when I couldn’t walk, took me everywhere I needed to go, and he held me when I cried because “they” said I’d probably never paint again. He built beautiful things for me when I turned my studio into an apartment, and I painted for him when I finally made liars out of “them” all. Thankfully, Charles Wesley Hedge always believed in me… except for the thinking I was nuts part!

Wanting a fresh start and against all odds, I left Connecticut for North Carolina in 2015, because as I always said, “I am not a goddamn Yankee!!!” (even though my ex-husband is a very nice one ;-)) Chuck continued to worry about me. But then he was glad for me, too, because it turned out to be a good move. In one of our last texts, I told him how happy he’d be to see me charge out the studio door and walk wherever I want to go in this little town without a thought about it! I never got to show him how well my healing still goes, nor convince him that my #1 remedy is belief. I never got to have another of his lobster rolls, never acquired a taste for his Maker’s Mark, he owes me some oysters with mignonette, and I haven’t written the book that he fussed at me about as late as a couple weeks ago… that one will haunt me a little, until I write. But I’ll never get over that I can no longer pick up the phone, catch up with Chuck Hedge, and tell him to stop worrying about me!!!

We had pet names for absolutely no reason… I was Sophia, which was my “Starbucks name”. (When you create an alias for fun in Starbucks, just be sure to remember it when they call it out!) And he was Zorba, because I believed he was infused with that character’s spirit. I hope he’s out there with Ellen and Duke, Holly and Betty, sailing on a Greek sea, laughing and dancing in everlasting light.

Love you always, Z, and Godspeed! 💙

"We're Good!"
Oakley, with her good buddy, Chuck, on the porch at Riverside, his wonderful antiques store next to the studio at The Brush Factory, Centerbrook, CT
Oil on linen; 9 x 11″
Collection Charles Hedge
©2008 Karen Killian

Godspeed, Zorba! 💙

Houston

“When an eighty-five pound mammal licks your tears away
and then tries to sit on your lap, it’s hard to feel sad.”
~ Kristan Higgins

A new painting and new friends, with a great dog and good story.

Before Houston, and before Houston, the Mrs. of this happy family of two fell ill. So they traveled to Houston, Texas, for help. There she endured chemotherapy treatments that damaged her retinas, but saved her life. On her path to recovery, she was advised that she would likely need an assistance dog. 

Enter the Mr., who had forever and strongly insisted that they had no use for a smelly, shedding, wolfing-down-food and god-knows-what-else pest of a creature in their immaculate home.
       ~Aside: I’d like a dollar for every husband I’ve known who protested like this and then turned into the biggest, mushiest, puppy-smoocher on the planet after he had inevitably lost that battle!

Curve balls have a way of derailing the staunchest of rules! I think it’s funny, touching, dramatic, and absolute that the Mrs. would propose to her devoted husband: “If I live, can I have a dog?” They chuckle when they relate this gem in their story now.

Enter Houston… a fresh, new life that came along, clearly to embody the angel that she is. She was named after the healing place in Texas, and from puppyhood was trained to guide the Mrs… perfectly! When I was photographing her on a chaise in their bedroom, the Mrs. left for the kitchen (she’s doing very well) to fetch some treats. Houston sat in her pose (she’s secretly a prima donna), but never for a second took her eyes from the doorway. I was going through my usual bag of tricks to get her to look this way or that, but I could have set loose an army of squirrels wielding firecrackers, and she wouldn’t have broken her attention… a loyalty that filled the room!

This is Houston, kissed by the sun, grounded by purpose, a living gift on the stairway of life.

Houston
Oil on Belgian linen; 18 x 22”
Collection Hockenhull
©2019 Karen Killian

"A Dog and His Boy"

I can’t say where the spirit, or the bond, really comes from. It’s one of those things like talent: can it be taught? I’m sure it’s always all around, and if you tune to it, it’s something like oxygen.

The artist’s son: When we brought this child home the very first time in 1991, I lay him on a receiving blanket by the fireplace and said, “Dogs, there’s a baby!”

I had sent my husband home with blankets from the hospital, so the scent had been teased, but clearly they were unprepared for this tiny alien invasion. They sniffed, nuzzled, and finally tasted with tentative licks and quickened tails. But I had a spunky relationship with my mama Golden, so all I could imagine was, “Oh great, you had a puppy! I guess there are 4 or 5 more in the car? That’s nice. We’ll be selling them in eight weeks or so?” 

That was my jovial interpretation, but truthfully, silently and instantly, there was trust. They wouldn’t actually baby-sit, but those dogs stood by that little alien for the rest of their lives. Well, of course they did… life under the high chair was significantly gratifying! And the toddler was as happy in their beds as his own.

“A Dog and His Boy”
Oil on Belgian linen; 22 x 30″
Collection of the Artist
©2002 Karen Killian & The Orvis Company

When Alex was nine, we were in Lakeville, CT, on vacation at The Interlaken Inn. Down by the lake, we greeted fellow guests, sipping tea and reading books, toes in the water, all quiet and peaceful. I stood in the water and gave this eager boy his first oar. The rhythm came instinctively, and he took off. Now Paint, this third Golden in his life, hopped around on the shore, barking hysterically. I couldn’t contain his concern nor apologize enough to the others. Alex quickly pivoted back to shore, hollering, “Put him in the canoe! Put him in the canoe!” The size of this dog was only part of my objection to this twist. But Alex insisted, and we somehow hoisted his big, heavy, wet self into the boat. I sat aft, awed that the boy simply picked the oar right back up, and the dog settled down like it was home. Off we went. Until I became the loudly disturbed one… “OH NO, I don’t have my camera!!!”

The painting above is the result of yet another beaching of the canoe, a trek back to our room to fetch said camera, a return to the water, and a long ride that finally looked like a late fall afternoon in the Berkshires!

The dog wouldn’t stand for the boy drifting away. The boy wouldn’t hear of leaving the dog behind. And in that moment I knew that I had raised a dog-whisperer. I suppose you can chalk it up to the fact that Alex never knew a day without a dog. But I like the feeling that there’s something more mystical about it. An ease. A spirit? Alex and all the dogs in his life, to this day… they just know each other, no introductions necessary. Old as time, eternal as hope: The Spirit in Our Bond.

"Rowan Kelly Robinson"

Here’s a new painting of a fresh face for this beautiful new year!
She already knows all about turning heads!!!

The Watermark Studio has turned 30! 🥂And I was busy before the holidays! 👩🏻‍🎨 There’s more to come!

My Love Letter to Windrush Farm

I have spent two and a half years before this unobstructed view. Every morning for ten seasons, the dawn came earlier and earlier, then later and later… ever the inspired awakening! I’ve healed here. I’ve done some of my best work here, and I’ve laughed some of my hardest. I have loved here. And have duly noted that the name “Windrush” was no coincidence!

Now is time to ride, to explore again, do more good work and laugh harder. I’m going on a kind of sabbatical in another beautiful place not far away. 

Funny, I never thought to capture this scene, because it was constantly transformed by an energy far more creative than I. I’ll go now, expecting that some day I will paint it, looking back and armed with my “11,143” photos! 💫 I’ll always be able to close my eyes and tap into the peace and quiet that saturated and satisfied me here.

Two huge Leyland Cypress frame this view and protect it from the world’s busy-ness. They’re like an old, wise, solid, true, standing-the-test-of-time, married couple, those Cypress! Split rail fences line the rolling pastures… a calligrapher must have drawn them. At the bottom of the hill, a long line of deciduous trees makes a diagonal statement before the blue Blue Ridge. Lively or serene skies could tell stories themselves, as if they would ever need language! Maybe that’s what the birds are always singing about. I’ll remember all of this, and all who came and enjoyed it with me.

I’ll remember the Red-shouldered hawk who appeared and sat on the vacant (haunted?) bird house for days while I nursed a blown-out knee. By the time he left, I had forgotten the knee ever hurt. That’s where the healing began.
A particularly pesky squirrel hung around my door all the time… I figured he wanted to move in. 
Lightning bugs, a cast of thousands, performed every night in June. FYI they tickle!
Once in a while, Pepé Le Pew visited and reminded me of my Dad taking me for country drives in his convertible on steamy summer evenings in Virginia. There was always a skunk defending himself somewhere in those apple orchards, but we were soaring by, so they made only brief sensory blasts and everlasting memories.
Deer were born, romped, grew up, and moved on. They’d stop and look at me like they wanted to come in for coffee. There were ten that grazed the lower pasture when my painting class gathered to honor Karen Johnston, my first neighbor in Tryon, then student, and dear, dearest friend… who passed away suddenly in the summer of ‘17. Ten deer milled around for two full hours while we celebrated her life that night. I counted them every five minutes, just to be sure, like they were a litter of puppies I had to tend. No question… we’re all in this together, each of us a part of great, great spirit. Many deer have come and gone, but never ever have so many stayed in one place for so long. Godspeed, Karen!

It’s been such a delicious setting for intimate dinner parties, no matter the weather. Smooth wine and sinful desserts. Yes, we always solved everyone’s problems! And evenings out on this hilltop… all in, as elements of the view… have been blessings. The grace, in my mind, is pure appreciation. With good communion in wonderful company!

I aways said that this house, née barn, is dated and quirky but has great spirit… just like me! I go with gratitude for a time well spent and well enjoyed. Thank you, Victoria. It is a treasure!

💫 About those “11,143” photos… we want to save everything that feels good! But what the skies have taught me here is that you can’t hold on; you need only flow. Don’t choose the feeling because of the view (or whatever it is that you’re reacting to); embrace it for the feeling itself. Because even in default mode, the feeling is always a choice. Wake up and choose happily!

~ Tryon Peak, Tryon, North Carolina

"Deal"

Simply celebrating our unspoken, unbreakable, priceless bond…

Oakley 'n me
Oil on Linen; 8 x 10″
©2007 Karen Killian
Collection of the Artist

Introducing THE SPIRIT in OUR BOND Project….

“We give dogs time we can spare, space we can spare and love we can spare. And in return, dogs give us their all. It’s the best deal man has ever made”  ~M. Facklam 

The Spirit in Our Bond

I’m trying to quantify the use of newsletters vs. facebook posts vs. a blog. Bear with me; techie people are yelling at me all the time, so… I’ll figure it out!

"Chessie"
Sunmark’s Cheshire Tide
Pencil on paper; 11 x 14”
Collection of the artist
©1989 Karen Killian

It’s been 30 years since I drew my first Golden, sittin’ on the dock of the (Chesapeake) bay. I credit her with my entire career …and with the fact that I’m part-dog myself!!! It’s been a great ride, and I’m aware that every bit of my (canine) work exists solely by virtue of the incredible bond that we share with our fluffy alter-egos! 

For now, I’ve been schooled that I must start communicating a New Project via a blog. (And I will continue to learn exactly why!) Let’s call it a 30th anniversary something. Or maybe The Spirit of Our Bond. It’s not so new to those of you who have followed me here over the years. But I want to laser-focus an exposé on the theme of this bond. I want to tell stories and take photographs and, along the way, paint some new paintings… all celebrating this indefatigable love!

I’d love to do a monthly story in a magazine. I’d love to write a book, which as you “old” followers of mine know, has been on my plate for an embarrassing number of unrealized years! And I’d leave in a minute to travel across the country to work on this project everywhere I meet an inspiring story!

A good friend, upon hearing of this grand scheme, said, “And who is gonna pay for that??!!??” I said, I know, I know… that’s what grants and sponsors are for! But first I must write the first stories, with the first paintings, in a new blog format and see how its legs grow. And I’ll post as I grow mine! The first post is a short intro with the handshake, or pawshake (depending on which side of the fur you’re on), “Deal”.

Comment, or write, or even call me, with any of your sentiments about this man-loves-dog world!