Immortalising Memories

It started by accident really. A friend's dog passed away, and I felt it was fitting to try and help them heal from the loss of their family member by drawing a portrait of their dog. Somehow, over the years it became a bit of a habit. It's not a skill that's going to make me a fortune, since I’m a very slow drawer and not the calibre of a professional, but it's one that I get a lot of joy out of by gifting others something meaningful that I’ve created just for them.

Sometimes I also draw pets that are still alive by the way, so it's not all sad. I have drawn artwork for friend's birthdays, Christmas presents, or once for a dog club fundraiser raffle prize, but the majority seem to be of a beloved pet that has passed away.

I started art lessons as many young children do with some lovely art teachers learning my primary colours. It was an informal child’s activity rather than anything serious. In high school art classes, I finally realised that, despite the myriad of sculpting, painting and paper mâché over the years, what I really enjoyed, and wasn't half bad at, was drawing. I found my niche with black and white charcoal and graphite drawings first and then branched out to coloured pencils and different textured papers and boards. I'm now dabbling with watercolours and pastels when I get the time.

The subject of my drawings is always animals, usually dogs, and especially spaniels (I have drawn the odd cat, horse or bird as well). I've grown up with spaniels, and particularly love drawing their soulful, expressive eyes and gorgeous long ears.

There are a few things I use to draw these pieces. Top of the list is good quality sharp pencils. I personally use Prismacolour and Faber Castell Pitt Artist Pencils because I like the look and feel of them on the paper.

After putting up with cheap $2 pencil sharpeners I finally splashed out and got a good $10 one, although a Stanley knife or scissors will still do to sharpen pencils in a pinch. I don't recommend it though- I’ve sliced the pads of my fingers more than once doing this. There are also erasers (you wouldn't believe how many kinds there are!), fixative, and of course good quality paper, or other textures if you're adventurous. Sandpaper, suede board (a favourite of mine), wood and various weights and textures of paper are all available options.

Deciding what size frame the piece is going in is also something to consider early. I quickly realised that the standard sizes art paper comes in aren't always the sizes that picture frames come in, and the suede board comes in huge sheets that have to be cut down. Some of my artwork recipients have gotten custom frames made, but otherwise, I have to carefully get the scissors out and cut the paper to size.

A good quality photo of the pet in question is critical, and sometimes it's the hardest part of the process. Asking for a photo from someone who is grieving has to be done carefully and sensitively. Sometimes I don't tell them why I want the photo, I just ask for one in a commiserative way, or it's even better if I can get one from their social media posts and then I don't have to bother them at all.

Not telling them why I want the photo is for two reasons. Firstly, just in case I get busy and it takes me 3-6 months to complete (I did say I was slow) as I don't want to get their hopes up, and secondly, sometimes the surprise is nice.

Drawing is such an enjoyable process for me. I love bringing an animal to life on the page. Once I’ve got their eyes perfected I know I'm headed in the right direction. It’s so satisfying to see the progression from a literal blank canvas to a work of art. Every time I finish a piece it is so rewarding to feel the sense of achievement and see something I’ve created. I also love the feeling of anticipation, knowing it’s ready for the recipient.

People sometimes think my artwork is a photograph when they first see it, which is a huge compliment. It's also immensely relieving when they instantly recognise their own pet. Thank goodness I’ve never had to try and awkwardly explain that I've drawn their pet and they didn't recognise it...

A lot of people don't know that I can draw, so watching them stare at their gift as it sinks in that I haven't just given them artwork of the same breed as their dog, but that it actually is their dog is priceless. The icing on the cake is when they look at the artist's signature and realise that I drew it. That part sends them into shock sometimes (in a good way). It's why I like it to be a surprise - watching the reaction makes it all worth it. The shock, the joy, and the appreciation all in fast succession.

It's worth noting though that the drawings are only as good as the memories they evoke. I'm not being humble by saying that while I can draw, I’m definitely not in the calibre of professional artists. If what I do helps in the grieving process, or evokes happy memories of someone's family member, then that's all that matters. People treasure the drawings I gift them not because of the skill of the artist (luckily) but because the subject of the artwork matters to them, and I’m very happy to have it that way.

Giving away my work also keeps the perfectionist in me at bay. If I was regularly staring at my creations I would probably be tempted to always add a bit more - a little darker here, a slight smudge there... constantly looking at them critically. It's one of the reasons why I never keep my work; it's too tempting to keep tweaking it, and sometimes that would ruin it. Plus, it's far better for it to go to someone who can truly appreciate it for what it represents - a beloved memory of a much-missed family member.

Drawing pets to gift to the families that loved and miss them may have started unintentionally, but is something I will probably continue doing for the rest of my life. It’s immensely rewarding for me, and it brings happiness to others when they remember their best friend. A real win-win.