A Horse of Course

preliminary watercolour

 sketching it out

One of my older brothers (I have two) once asked me, "what do you want to be when you grow up?" My decisive response: "A horse." I don't actually remember saying this. Which handily proves I said this when I was much younger then the age my brothers like to suggest I was. And sure there were some logistical flaws with my youthful career choice, but when it comes down to it, mine was not a bad plan. After all, if you could be anything you wanted, it wouldn't be too shabby to be a horse (as long as you lived on an amazing horse ranch in the mountains and there weren't any glue factories within a thousand kilometers).

In older childhood my plans shifted to horse ownership. My strategy was simple. Grow potatoes in the backyard, sell them, and use the money to buy a horse. Potatoes might seem like an odd choice but my belief in the saleability of potatoes can probably be attributed to my Dutch background. The Dutch like their potoatoes. If you ever come upon a Dutch cookbook it will be 75% potato related. Sadly, my potato selling scheme came crashing down when the first potato crop was very small and of too low quality to be sold.

Enter present day: my plan is to paint a picture of a horse. I'd tell you the horse's name, but the painting is being commissioned as a gift to the horse's owner, so in case the intended gift recipient ever googles their horse's name, I better not say anything. I'm joking, but still, this past week has been so full of chance encounters that I can imagine giving too many details and then blowing the surprise. One of the coincidental run-ins I had was meeting someone who placed a bid on my bunny rabbit painting at the DVSA Art Auction (which was very gratifying to hear). So I'll just say that the pictures I've posted above are of a mystery horse. Growing up, I think there's a good chance I read a young adult novel called "Mystery Horse." If there isn't a young adult novel of that name, there really should be. I still like horses, but nothing can compare to the horse loving dedication of my childhood.