On January 3rd, 2000, I adopted Ben from the Northeast Animal Shelter. He was a little ball of black fur, only 9 weeks old. He was in a little cage with his brother, who was already spoken for, and seemed much more outgoing. Ben was in the back of the cage quiet and frightened. I asked him if he wanted to come see me. He did. I moved him close to me and placed him in the fold of my arm, next to my heart. He fell asleep. That’s how our love story started.
Ben adored me. I adored him. He was the child I never had. We were inseparable. I took him everywhere expect oversee, although I would have, if he hadn’t become this big 65-pound dog that couldn’t fit into a shoulder bag.
On February 18th, 2012, he passed away, at home, in his favorite spot in the kitchen. I never thought I could cry as much as I did for weeks, months. I had never cried much in my life, as if I had kept my tears for Ben.
My first attempt of this painting was not a success. I was just looking at the objects, but wasn’t thinking of Ben. The pain was still too strong.
Then, I felt this sweet feeling of the unconditional love for him. And that’s when I understood that it is in the quietness of my heart that I can bring life to a painting. I discovered that not only Ben taught me unconditional love, he has also taught me how to bring my heart in my art.
I love you Ben.