Here are images and details that document creating this equine sculpture from reference photography to completed painting. (Some of this appears in a separate blog entry as well.)

The scene that I visualized was of King standing in the middle of Great Run after he had absconded with Spade during the night. While Spade caught his breath after galloping through the woods, King was considering his next move, their dark silhouettes exposed by the moonlight. His options were limited, they were vulnerable and headed toward danger instead of away from it. I set out to paint what unfolded as I was writing House Key years earlier. One day, I was fortunate enough to meet the perfect model for the painting I had in mind, Kyle; and Black Betty, waiting in the field for her moment to arrive, was more than happy to pose with him, as well. That was about four years ago, when I took the reference photos that appear in an earlier blog post.

Even though I took a lot of photos during our session, I ended up using elements from different images to get the composition I was after. And as I painted I got new ideas, experimented a little and learned a lot.

Nonethess, there were stops and starts and interruptions along the way in creating the painting. The huge canvas I got turned out to be too small, so well into it, I started over by stretching a bigger canvas (under Llicorella's direct supervision and pawprints) to accommodate the composition. Just as it happened when I was writing, the painting took on a life of its own: The midmorning light filtered through dense trees while a gentle breeze played though the leaves, and Betty’s feathers, like Ophelia’s hair, were moving with the water while bright Wingstems swayed on the edge of the stream. So many things fascinated and challenged me during the painting process, like capturing Kyle’s likeness and his intense gaze searching the wooded expanse, while Betty’s benevolent eyes question the viewer directly.

But what really emerged was the unquestioning trust between man and horse. Despite her overwhelming size, a horse of her gentle nature easily could be intimidated and subjugated by a strong rider; and he, despite his obvious physical strength could easily have been harmed had an evil thought ever crossed her mind. And yet, there is no vulnerability here. Just quiet strength. I was impressed by their mutual trust and respect, and how relaxed and content they seemed in each other’s company. It was as if they had been reunited here in the peaceful now from some distant troubled past in a novel.

The painting started out as a depiction of a scene from House Key with the working title, “Chapter 39,” for lack of anything more eloquent. Then, I had the idea to paint a passage from the scene along the edge of the stretched canvas where I normally wipe excess paint off my brush. So, it's kind of circular that I saw the image in my head, wrote about it, but once written, wanted to paint it. Granted, it will be difficult to read the writing even in a floating frame, and would be completely hidden from view in a traditional frame, but I like the idea of having it be a little secret. Maybe years from now someone who has read the book will unframe it and enjoy the surprise--and if they haven't, maybe they will.

“Respite at Great Run,” its official title, gave me so much throughout its long process, but quickly emerged as a double portrait of a beautiful, shared moment between horse and rider that for all my planning and organizing, I couldn’t have contrived.