When Art Makes People Walk Away
Hey guys! Welcome back to the Bark Blog! Today, I wanted to share with you my response to an experience I had a few months ago.
When Art Makes People Walk Away
During a live painting demonstration at a local art show, I had an experience that left a mark–not on the pastel paper, but on my conscience.
I was deep in the process of painting an abstract version of a scene based on a true story of an abused and neglected dog when a fellow artist approached, looked at my work for a moment, and then said, “You shouldn’t be painting such terrible things. You should be painting the human-dog bond instead. It’s such a shame that your artistic skills are going to waste. Why do you paint cruelty when there are happier subjects to paint?”
I looked at him and replied, “I paint cruelty because there is more of it!”
He didn’t say anything else. He walked away.
The Encounter That Asked More Than It Seemed
At face value, it was just a difference of opinion. But under the surface, the moment held something deeper–a challenge to my voice, my purpose, my art. I walked away from that conversation not angry, but reflective.
Should I be painting what others want to see?
Should I be painting comfort over confrontation?
Should I silence the stories I feel compelled to tell?
Why I Paint What I Paint
The answer is simple, but not easy: I paint to witness.
I paint the stories of the abused, neglected, and discarded dogs because those stories are real. Because behind every pair of sad eyes is a history no one wants to talk about, and because art has the power to force people to look–when they’d otherwise turn away.
Some people want art to soothe; I want mine to speak.
The Problem With “Pretty Art”
There’s nothing wrong with painting the joyful side of the human/dog bond–it’s beautiful, and it deserves celebration. But pretending that’s the only side is dishonest.
To celebrate the bond while ignoring the betrayal is to tell only half the story–and to leave the most vulnerable voiceless.
The fellow artist thought I was wasting my skills. But if my pastel can give voice to the voiceless, stir discomfort, and start conversation–then I’m using every ounce of my ability exactly as I should.
When They Walk Away
The artist walked away because he was uncomfortable. And that’s okay.
Not everyone is ready to face what I paint–but that doesn’t mean the work should not exist. That discomfort is often the first sign that the art is doing its job.
As artist Ai Weiwei said:
“Art is about disturbing the comfortable and comforting the disturbed.”
I don’t paint cruelty for the sake of painting cruelty. I paint it because someone has to. Behind every layer of pigment, there’s a dog who didn’t get a second chance–or, sometimes, miraculously did. Because cruelty exists. And because silence is complicity.
To Fellow Artists And Viewers
If your art makes people uncomfortable, don’t retreat. Lean in. Your job is not to please everyone–it’s to tell the truth as you see it.
To those who stop and listen, who see the pain and stay anyway, thank you! You’re the reason I keep painting.
And to the dogs who can’t speak for themselves–this is for you.
That’s it for now! Cya next time!