Category: Dog Grief

Robin Williams, Nora Ephron and Almost Wetting My Pants at The DGA Awards

My Nora Ephron Sunflowers

As longtime readers know, I used to work in Hollywood as Kevin Costner's assistant. I never met Robin Williams, but in 1991 Kevin was nominated by the Directors Guild of America as best director for Dances With Wolves. It is extremely intimate affair, and I got to attend and sit with Kevin and his small, tight-knit production company.

The ceremony is held in the Beverly Hilton Ballroom, where they hold the Golden Globes, so you can probably picture it. The difference is there are no cameras. And the group is one of the most alpha-male gatherings in the world, with each nominated director presiding over his round table like a feudal lord, awaiting the judgement of his peers (Kevin won). It's intense.

So I remember my leeriness about Robin Williams being the MC that night. This was not a two drink minimum Comedy Store crowd. These guys aren't into "wacky."

And then he started. Or rather exploded. No rhythm or pace, but an avalanche of unrelenting comedic tessellations, so specific to the room, so inappropriate, and so funny it was shocking. The laughter turned to screams. I remember hitting my friend sitting beside me, hard. The jokes came quicker and denser and the screams turned shrieks: a communal tantric orgasm of laughter, us begging for it to stop and craving more.

And then, OOHH, there was a very real, still to this day crystal clear moment when I almost wet my pants sitting at Kevin Costner's table in the Beverly Hilton Ballroom wearing a formal black and gold beaded dress by Adrienne Vittadini.

My panic caused enough blood to rush to my head, creating some white noise to plug my ears. I focused on the table's centerpiece like a zombie, hoping this sensory safe zone would protect me long enough to get a hold of my bladder. Tears ran down my face and I squeezed the chair, praying for him to stop. Finally he did, and I managed to make it to the ladies' room to recover.

Cut to June of 2012, when Nora Ephron died. I never met her, but like every woman who came of age in the late 20th century, I counted on her like a girlfriend. I felt her death deeply, in a way I couldn't articulate with words. So I decided to plant some sunflowers in her honor. They were perennials, which means they should come back every year. I envisioned my stand of Nora Ephron sunflowers blooming, spreading and thriving in her honor.

That didn't happen.

Only three stalks came up. And those were meager.

But I saved some of those seeds and planted them again this year, with even poorer results. Only one came up. A failure.

But since the news of Robin Williams's death on Monday, I've been thinking alot about my single sunflower. It's spectacular. The birds and the bees love it. I love it. It's going to bear hundreds of seeds I can plant again if I can get to them before all the critters who are eying them too.

Stuff like this isn't noticeable without a garden. And sadly having a garden has become a rarity. To me it feels like a privilege, as has connecting with other gardeners, farmers, and seed savers. Because I didn't know before I moved to the country, that seeds are almost immortal. And that nature is a Ponzi scheme in reverse. And what I want you to know is that one matters.

One sunflower, one seed, provides exponentially in unimaginable ways.

Saving my sunflower seeds

And this gets us to depression.

If you are struggling, is there one seed of hope you can save, or plant, or simply imagine?

If you know someone in a dark place is there one seed you can share? A phone call, a real email, not just a "like"? Even a smile at a stranger or looking someone in the eye can make a difference.

The recipe for a successful suicide is frighteningly simple: desire to die, coupled with the means to do it. Strangely, spring and summer are the most common seasons for suicide. And it seems our culture is tipping into a full-blown epidemic of self harm. Newsweek has an excellent and disturbing article on this recent trend. And no, it's not just the Baby Boomers. Evidence indicates they are merely the tip of the ice burg.

Like many others, I suffer from depression, pain, and chronic fatigue. I can't say I've ever had suicidal thoughts. But I know what it's like to be alive and dead.

This video from the World Health Organization is the best depiction of depression I've seen. Appropriately for this blog, it's about a dog…

I Had a Black Black Dog, His Name Was Depression

Yesterday, I picked a single sunflower to celebrate the life of Robin Williams and honor all those who are grieving his death including his beloved Pug Leonard, and his friend Koko the gorilla.

If his death has impacted you, I hope you're doing OK.

Be gentle with each other. And most of all, be gentle with yourself.

Robin Williams, July 21, 1951 – August 11, 2014

P.S. His wife just released a statement confirming he was suffering from early stages of Parkinson's disease.

August 14, 2014
Buddhist Monks Visit Grass Valley: Tears, Art, and a Sacred Blessing of my Dog

Tibetan Monks from Gaden Shartse Monastery Begin Their Medicine Mandala
Moira McLaughlin, Grass Valley, California, 1.18.14

Almost every year since 2000, the Sierra Friends of Tibet have sponsored the Gaden Shartse Monastery Monks' visit to our town, Grass Valley, California. The Tibetan monks, now exiled in India, stay for a few weeks and present lectures, offer blessings, visit schools, and share their traditional arts, the most thrilling of which is the construction and dissolution of a sand mandala.

Since I moved here in 2009, I've wanted to see them. The last three years, due to visa issues, they couldn't come to the States. This year, they returned, and I finally made it.

Even before their arrival, I'd been focused on their visit. As I've written before, I'm working on a series of dox-ZENs, 12 pen and ink images of Darby painted on the pages of a Zen Buddhist book. The pieces are an exploration of the Buddhist concept that the mind is an endless series of three processes: craving, acting, and discontentment.

They're also a meditation on impermanence and dealing with imperfection in the wake of the crippling grief and subsequent creative block I experienced after Darby's death. And, they're an exercise in detachment, something I struggle with as an artist.

I thought I could learn a lot from witnessing the life cycle of a sand mandala. I thought it would inform my work somehow. And, I kept wondering if there was a dog angle, a way to relate it Dog Art Today and share it with you. Remember, I'm working on alignment this year.

Also, you should know that the venue for the sand mandala is the chapel of a former convent and orphanage built in 1865 for orphans of gold miners. It's now a bohemian warren of artists' apartments (and a whole other blog post).

When I entered the chapel, my Catholic reflexes kicked in. Where were the pews, the holy water, the hierarchy? Should I genuflect? Who's in charge?

People were milling about, taking photos, chatting, and, most alarming, walking up on the altar, underneath the stained glass window of Jesus, and putting things on a folding table — knick knacks, photos, and statues. Seriously, they were putting tchotchkes on the altar.

I had a hard time breathing.

Especially since the monks working on the mandala are right there. Yes, they are cordoned off. But, you can basically look over their shoulders and watch.

After I took a few photos, I went over to the gift shop table, where Tibetan goods such as prayer flags, pillows, and bells are for sale to benefit the monks, and chatted with a woman volunteer.

"Um, what are the people putting on the altar?" I asked.

"Well, people bring in personal items and place them there. And the monks will bless them," she said.

I looked confused I guess, but I was just trying to absorb it.

"For example," she said, "Last year a woman brought in the ashes of her dog…"

I burst into tears.

She stopped talking, reached out her hand, and started rubbing my shoulder.

Now, I was verging on sobs, the "ugly cry" as Oprah calls it. She kept rubbing my shoulder and nodding her head. No words.

"I've…lived here for five years…for five years I've wanted to see the monks. And I am working on an art project about my deceased dog…and I can't believe you just said that," I said.

She nodded. Kept rubbing.

"Does this happen to people?" I wailed. I was mortified, but no one seemed to notice.

She nodded.

"You know," she said, "The monks are going to be here for a few weeks. Perhaps you could bring in your art and they could bless it."

Then the bells rang, and everyone found a seat for a lecture and the blessing.

One of the monks talked about sacred texts and keeping them off the floor, providing them a place of honor they deserved. They threw rice and flower petals. One walked around the chapel and sprinkled us with water. They blessed us and all the sacred objects on the table. And they performed a form of chanting called throat singing. I thought about Darby.

There was a Q + A.

It was beautiful. Open. Welcoming. And then, in what seemed like 20 minutes but I have no idea, it was over.

As I gathered my bag, I noticed that the kind woman volunteer was sitting in front of me. She stood up, looked around, and found me.

She came over and said, "I was thinking about your dog and your art, and you don't need to bring anything in. They were here. They were blessed already, because you are here."

"I was thinking exactly the same thing," I said. I smiled — really beamed. "Thank you," I said. "Thank you. I feel better."

I left the chapel as the monks got back to work.

If you live in Nevada County, you can see the monks from 10am – 6 pm at St. Joseph's Cultural Center, 410 Church St., Grass Valley, CA 95945.

The dissolution of the sand mandala ceremony takes place on Saturday, February 1, 2014 at 7 pm.

For more information visit Sierra Friends of Tibet.

View my dox-ZENs, still a work in progress, here. They will be on view at the "Beasts of Burden" exhibition in Allston, Massachussettes March 13 – May 4, 2014.

January 30, 2014
Darby: Love. Redacted. Collages

Darby: Delight by Moira McLaughlin, 2013

I've been experimenting with messy. And book arts. And erasure poems inspired by these artists.

Today is Darby's birthday.

Darby McLaughlin
November 20, 1994 – December 3, 2011

I miss you.

Love. Redacted. by Moira McLaughlin, 2013

One Phase… by Moira McLaughlin, 2013

I Cried a Long Time by Moira McLaughlin, 2013

The Spell by Moira McLaughlin, 2013

November 20, 2013
Tyler and Darby by Sabrina

Tyler and Darby by Sabrina, 2013

Sabrina (my niece, age five), "Want me to paint you a picture?"

Me, "Yes, paint me a picture of Tyler and Darby together."

She runs to the art studio and appears 45 minutes later.

Sabrina, "That's Darby with a halo. And Tyler's going 'agghhhh,' like he wants to play."

Me, "What are the colorful streamers in the sky?"

Sabrina, "That's the soul."

September 23, 2013
An Act of Dog: Grief Into Activism

AN ACT OF DOG from Sarah Haeberle on Vimeo.

When artist Mark Barone’s dog Santina died after 20 years of companionship, Mark’s partner, Marina Dervan, thought that adopting a new dog might ease the pain. But as she started looking, she became aware of the staggering statistic that 5,500 dogs are killed in America every day.

That discovery lead the couple to launch the project An Act of Dog, a non-profit 501c3 for the sole purpose of protecting the lives of our beloved companions, by ensuring that all of America’s shelters adopt the proven and successful no-kill model.

To create permanent funding for their mission, Mark is painting 5,500 portraits of dogs who have been killed. He paints ten dogs a day, seven days a week, and has painted over 3,500 dogs.

To contribute or find out more visit An Act of Dog.

Read more at Fast Company

The story of the renowned shelter dog Oreo and her cruel fate from Mark Barone on Vimeo

September 3, 2013
Grief: You’d Think I Would Be Over It By Now

Self-portrait of photographer E.A. Scholfield in a rocking chair with a dog, c. 1860-1880

There’s an excellent article on grief in The New York Times by psychiatrist Mark Epstein entitled “The Trauma of Being Alive.” I highly recommend it with one caveat; I wish it had gone further debunking the myth of the “five stages” of grief.

It’s crucial to know that the book the “five stages” are based on, Elizabeth Kübler-Ross’s On Death and Dying, is about dealing with a terminal diagnosis and facing one’s own death.

It’s NOT about grieving.

There are no five stages.

The article “Stages of Grief: The Myth” by Russell Friedman looks at how Kübler-Ross’s groundbreaking though unscientific 1969 exploration of death became conflated with grief (and the author’s own anger issues) and since its publication has devastated people in their efforts to grieve.

In my own experience, I found the “five stages” cut and pasted into every pet bereavement website I visited after Darby died. And it really messed me up. It wasn’t until I read Russell Friedman and John W. James’s The Grief Recovery Handbook and I discovered that the “five stages” are bunk, that I began coming to the surface.

Please visit Russell and James’s website The Grief Recovery Method for more information.

Hat tip to Deb Brown of Art from Ashes, a company that makes handcrafted glass remembrances from loved-ones’ ashes, for sharing the NYT article with me.

August 12, 2013
James Ruby Q + A

Darby and Tyler Foote by James Ruby, 2013

After Darby died, Cleveland-based dog artist James Ruby gifted me with a portrait of him. Then, a few months later, he surprised me with a portrait of my new dog Tyler Foote. The two paintings sit on my mantle and together they have a special power.

Grieving Darby took a toll on my creativity. I haven't finished my "Darby Calendar." And guilt, frustration, and paralysis blockaded the projects I thought about beginning with my new muse. It's been lose/lose. No Darby art. No Tyler art. No art.

Seeing my boys together, painted in the unifying style of a single artist, has been very therapeutic. When I look at the portraits I see cohesion that gives the process of grief and recovery continuity. And it gives me permission to live in the overlap. These are my dogs, together. Loving and focusing on one doesn't negate the other. I've known that intellectually, but actually honoring it, getting back in the studio, has been a challenge. The paintings are making a difference that surprises me.

James Ruby's portraits of Darby and Tyler Foote on my mantle

I wanted to explore the delicate issue of painting dogs who have died with James and talk to him about his process.
Here is our Q + A:

Moira McLaughlin: Is your approach different painting a dog that has died or one that is alive (example: Darby vs. Tyler)?

James Ruby: When I’m contacted to paint a portrait of a pet, I always prefer to take reference photos myself. Often, though, distance requires me to instruct the pet owner on taking a few photos that will work best or maybe even a short video. When I’m commissioned to paint a portrait of a deceased pet, my approach to the canvas depends greatly on the reference photographs that are available. If none of the images captures the details or an angle that I would normally try to capture, I may choose to proceed with a more traditional composition.

James Ruby's Dog Portraits Gallery

MM: have you had a dog who's passed away and then painted him/her after the death?

JR: I've never painted a portrait of a deceased pet of my own. Prior to Smooch and Newburgh, I hadn’t owned a dog since high school.

MM: Do you paint many portraits of Smooch and Newburgh, or wish you could paint them more?

JR: Smooch and I have been together for eleven years and he’s been the subject of five of my paintings. I have painted my newest addition, Newburgh, twice since he wandered his way to my home in January. Smooch is enjoying the reprieve from being my muse.

Smooch #3, 2013

Smooch #4, 2013

Newburgh, 2013

Newburgh #2, 2013

MM: Did you begin with this style of the intimate dog close-up? Or did your work evolve?

JR: Although I feel my work is always evolving (and hopefully improving), I still approach each dog’s portrait as I did with my very first. My initial painting of Smooch was inspired by his morning greeting – his snout peaking over the side of my bed as he anxiously awaits for us to begin our day. I’m fortunate to have stumbled upon a perspective that other dog lovers experience daily and find endearing.

Smooch (the original), 2009

MM: Do you have any thoughts on grief, creativity, and healing that you would like to share from the front line of pet portraits? I know several dog artists who have stopped painting dogs for because it can be so intense. Do you still enjoy it?

JR: My first dog portrait was a simple exercise to lift my spirits following several sad personal events. An innocent enough painting of my absolute favorite thing, Smooch, truly changed the direction of my art and my life. For the past four years, dogs have been the subjects of every painting I have undertaken, and I have no desire to change direction.

I’m honored each time I’m contacted by a dog lover that would like me to capture their favorite companion’s image. Each time a client responds to their completed painting with tears of gratitude, it reinforces for me that I’ve made the right decision in choosing dogs as the subjects of my work. There’s something special about animal lovers and without exception each client experience has been wonderful and many have resulted in great friendships.

MM: Thank you so much for your portraits of my boys. I treasure them.

Visit James Ruby's website to commission a portrait of your dog.

July 2, 2013
Gwendolyn Huneck Dies

Flowers and Butterflies by Stephen Huneck

I am sad to report that Gwendolyn Huneck, Stephen Huneck’s widow, died on Sunday. She was a fierce advocate for Stephen’s legacy and for keeping Dog Mountain, their Vermont gallery and sanctuary, open to the public after he committed suicide.

The gallery stated, “Gwen became a beacon for people who had lost loved ones and pets and we think she absorbed a lot of that emotion and she may have had difficulty in releasing it.”

Condolences are coming in from all over on the memorial Facebook page.

On a personal note, Dog Mountain Gallery had recently started advertising on Dog Art Today. I was honored to hear that Gwen had read my blog and liked its message. It was bittersweet to go through Stephen’s work and pick which one to use for an ad. Flowers and Butterflies (above) was one of my favorites. And, I was surprised that there were pieces I hadn’t seen before. Gallery manager, Kim Daggett, said that they keep discovering new works to share. I hope that those works can sustain Dog Mountain and bring comfort to the Hunecks’ friends and family during this heartbreaking time. Rest in peace.

Burlington Free Press.

6.6.13 update: The Vermont State Police report Gwen took her own life by intentionally burning charcoal inside. She died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

June 5, 2013
Neil Gaiman: The Power of the Dog. Cabal (2003 – 2013)

Cabal and Neil Gaiman Unconditional Love by Kimberly Butler

Earlier this week, writer and graphic novelist, Neil Gaiman, wrote about the death of his dog, Cabal. His journal entry begins, “Sometimes, these things are hard to write. And sometimes writing them saves my life. This is one of those times I’m glad I have my blog here, and it’s still so hard to write…”

Click here to read his post about “The Power of the Dog.”

January 17, 2013
Howard Stern Openly Mourns His Dog’s Death

Bianca Romijn-Stamos-O'Connell-Ostrosky-Stern by Howard Stern via Marla Porter

However you feel about Howard Stern (I happen to feel he is multitalented performance artist), I think he did a great service to all dog lovers, especially men, when he shared his grief last week over the loss of his dog, an English Bulldog named Bianca Romijn-Stamos-O'Connell-Ostrosky-Stern.

Here is an excerpt of his Sirius XM radio show on Wednesday, July 18, the day after she passed away via OTC.

"I've learned I'm human because I'm so touched by my dog," said Stern, who has Bianca's name tattooed on his arm. "My dog taught me how to love – love deeper. When my kids were born, of course you realize a level of love that you never thought you'd have. But this was a very different experience in that even your kids grow up and move away from you."

"I spent the whole day crying," he said. "My daughter Ashley came over and we were crying. The two of us were just crying like babies."

"I had made a vow, I don't know, a couple of months ago, because Bianca's health was declining," the radio host said. "I said, you know, for as long as I've got my good girl with me, I'm going to, every morning, I'm going to spend 15 minutes, half hour, whatever it is, just rubbing her belly and doing what she likes to do. This is tough for me. I'm really bummed."

Howard's wife, Beth Ostrosky Stern is a passionate advocate for dog rescue and active with the North Shore Animal League Rescue. She is also the author of the book Oh My Dog: How to Choose, Train, Groom, Nurture, Feed and Care for Your New Best Friend.

Rest in peace, Bianca.

July 22, 2012