Walking down a quiet, wooded path in a snow-covered forest of New Hampshire, I felt I was being watched. Turning, I saw his eyes through the trees. It was a magical moment. He had on a fuzzy winter coat, and off white against the brilliance of the snow. We just watched each other for a few moments, and he nodded his head, and I felt a wonderful lightness.
Back in my studio, I sketched that moment from memory, which I refined over 3 weeks. I mistakenly thought I could just draw a horse as I used to when I was younger and drew them all the time during high-school English classes.
Drawing muscles must be used, and this one was atrophied!
So, I went to a nearby horse farm and sketched a 30-year-old horse who had the desired requirement to just stand still. I met other horses, made my way into the barn, where I could eventually brush them, and I felt their bones and muscles, regaining understanding.
Getting back in the saddle is like getting back into the studio. It takes time to remember my relationship with the animal, the material, how to communicate, to determine where I want to go, and to take a risk. I may get bitten, or fall - but it’s worth those moments when I am still and in the zone.