I typically don’t faint with gratitude when someone attempts to capture my likeness on canvas – especially when they send the unsolicited results hurtling through cyberspace to the attention of my Human Butler. I’ve been preserved for posterity more in one year than a litter of Labradors on a thousands bags of puppy chow, and I’ve grown accustomed to my face – or something close to it. Trouble is, I’m a deceptively challenging study.
On the surface, the average artist sees a brown mutt with a scruffy visage and a certain come hither, canine countenance that’s been described as both “vaguely coquettish” and “downright obsequious.” For a reasonably competent painter, my physiognomy would appear to pose no great challenge. But a closer look reveals the kind of nuance and complexity that can only be captured by a maestro of extensive talent and great empathy. Happily, such a genius appears to frequent this very page, for I have received, in care of the Biped, an advanced look at a bold work of stunning subtlety and uncanny verisimilitude. Behold, “Freddy in Acrylic,” rendered by one Lindsey Dahl, of Wild Feather Studio.
In the words of Thoreau, “It’s not what you look at that matters…it’s what you see.” And what I see staring back at me is something more than a flawless facsimile of physical attributes brilliantly arranged – I see my personality. My identity. My id, ego, and super-ego, all smashed together in a surprising collision of unexpected color, enchanting texture, and delightful whimsy. Somehow, Lindsey Dahl has channeled the impressionistic force of Manet with the unflinching realism of Hopper, and the results are as undeniable as my abject appreciation. Thanks, Lindsey. If there’s any justice in this mad world, lindseydahl.com will temporarily crash under the weight of countless commissions.
PS So far, my birthday month is proceeding rather well…