By: Wendy Stevens

I slit open the letter and spread the horse pictures out on the table. My first sight of the Morgan Stallion I’d been commissioned to paint was an exciting one. He was beautiful. Then my eyes rested on his owner, and a sadness washed over me. The young lady in the picture was dying, cursed with a fatal illness. I knew sadness was not the emotion she wanted to come through in the painting, however, so brushing the emotion aside I concentrated on the work at hand. After studying the photos for hours, I selected a head-on pose, a quarter turn, and a side view to work into sketches.

[private]I designed three different backgrounds to play around with in some digital compositions. A sky background made me think of heaven, so I had mixed feelings about the pleasing effect it gave. A stone castle wall that fitted the horse’s name gave a more rustic look, especially when I added trailing vines. In the third option, veins of earthy red streaking through a textured rock blended with the glowing coat of the proud animal, and gave a classy look. Some extra flowing mane here, a spark in the eye there, and hours later I was ready to show the sketches.

The lady loved two of them, and her enthusiasm in the face of her fate touched me and fostered my own. She selected a sketch, so with a resolve to give her my all, I set to work.

Lightly, I laid black pastel lines on my prepared board to sketch the form and details of her prized stallion. When I was satisfied, I brushed a rich, dark undercoat of green on the background area, taking care not to spill over onto the fine head or his flowing mane. I cleaned the brush of green and reluctantly laid it down. It was time to prepare bed-time snacks for the children. As I rose, I studied the ghostly white but sharply detailed outline of the chestnut to be. With the image of the pristine layer of gesso waiting for me, I went about my business in the kitchen.

I set a platter on the table, then strode back towards my studio. I rounded a corner, and stopped dead in my tracks. There, kneeling on the drafting table in front of my easel, was my two-year-old daughter. Brush in hand, she was merrily painting with green, “just like” mom had done. I was frozen in place for a second, mouth agape. I actually almost laughed, seeing how busy and absorbed she was in her (my!) work. A sudden urge to rescue what was left pushed me forward, calling to her. Being glad I use acrylics labelled non-toxic, I sternly reminded her where her painting table was. Then I surveyed the damage. It was extensive. However, the outline of the horse was still quite clear, and at least some of the black pastel lines were discernable. I resigned myself to the extra work and pushed on.

After multiple layers of paint over new lines, the green was gone. One viewing the finished piece would never guess at the odd colour I’d “chosen” as an under-layer for the golden-red coat. I could believe it was my best work yet, and my eyes watered when the painting brought pure joy to the seriously ill friend of the stallion.

A chat with a colleague brought an interesting revelation. Those who study an ancient theory of colours would tell you that green is a healing hue, albeit for the mind. When I spoke to the customer months later, she said her doctors were amazed at her health, and she was doing much better than expected. Perhaps the innocent young hands of a child knew better than mine what colours would truly bring gladness the heart of the young owner.[/private]