Tyler Foote Finds: A Compendium of My Ignorance, work in progress, by Moira McLaughlin
The DANK Inaugural, the group show inspired by the theme of "water" that Tyler Foote and I have been working on, opens this Friday, July 11 in Nevada City, California, 5 – 9 pm. As a collective, the ten artists decided to share only fragments of our works until after the opening. So, here are some sneak peeks…
Tyler Foote Finds: A Compendium of My Ignorance, work in progress, by Moira McLaughlin
Diverted, work in progress, by Nancy Nelson, photo by Moira McLaughlin
DANK is an artists’ collective in Nevada City, California. It was founded in 2013 by ten artists interested in post-Great Recession social issues, the rural ideal, and an anti-urban aesthetic grounded in the legacy of the California Gold Rush.
The name DANK comes from the wet wood smell that permeates Nevada City, a town situated on the banks of Deer Creek. It’s also a nod to one of the area’s premier exports, cannabis. And it’s an acronym for Do Art Now Kids.
I'm a founding member of a ten-person Nevada City artists' collective called DANK…
We're interested in post-Great Recession social issues, the rural ideal, and an anti-urban aesthetic grounded in the legacy of the California Gold Rush and the future of our planet…
Vintage Postcard of Nevada City, California, 1908
A generous patron loaned us this empty building to have an art show…
Nevada City Alchemy by Daniel Brickman via his website
ART OnSite is an ambitious environmental art installation featuring 20 works by 8 artists presented along Nevada City’s Tribute Trail, a popular hiking path that runs beside Deer Creek, one of the earliest and richest locations of the California Gold Rush. The goal of the project, two years in the making and conceived by Chair Nancy Fleming and Vice Chair Nancy Nelson, was to draw the community together through the nexus of art. Unfortunately, the enterprise was marred by violence, as one of the artworks proved too offensive for a person or persons in our town, and was almost completely destroyed, and then removed to a secret location for safekeeping.
What, you might wonder, would be so egregious to a permissive community like ours, known for its (barely) underground cannabis economy and alternative lifestyles? It was 5 larger-than-life, gold-patinaed dog poop statues made of resin entitled Nevada City Alchemy.
Nevada City Alchemy by Daniel Brickman via his website
The artist, Daniel Brickman, created it in response to one of his early visits to the creek when he spent hours watching dog owners enjoy the trail while their pets left behind their droppings. Daniel, who enjoys working with clay and devising his own malleable materials such as sawdust and glue, was struck by the individuality of each poop, their statuesque nature, and by what he saw as the parallel between owner-permitted dog defecation and the pollution of equally negligent gold miners of the 1850’s. Both groups left waste with disregard to the environment and their fellow citizens.
When I first heard about the golden dog poops, I was excited. Scatological art can cause a sensation and it’s on trend; witness The Holy Virgin Mary by Chris Ofili, Complex Shit by Paul McCarthy, and Another Shit Show by Will Kurtz. I told Nancy Nelson, this could be an exciting draw for dog-art lovers near and far, and it would dovetail nicely with the project’s NEA Our Town Grant’s goal to help revitalize the local economy. This shit could be big.
Sadly, less than two weeks after ART OnSite’s debut on September 7, 2013, one of the golden dog poops was smashed to pieces. And, over the next few months, three more were destroyed before Daniel and the two Nancys retrieved the last one.
Daniel Brickman with one of his pieces via YubaNet
My dog Tyler Foote and I were lucky; we got to see Nevada City Alchemy in situ. And it was sensational. Getting directions via word of mouth, trekking alone into unknown territory as wildfires were burning nearby and temperatures were breaking records, I worried if we had enough water, if I had taken the right path, even if I knew what I was looking for and would know it when I saw it. I thought about turning back. I was tired and my dog was panting…but there was gold out there…I had to see it.
I thought about the 49ers, the men who dashed across the country, and the women who said yes to their insane certainty. I thought about arriving at this creek when it was inhabited by the Maidu, the tribe who peacefully lived off its abundance for centuries before get-rich-quick whites descended on it with their pans, picks, and shovels. And, I thought about how many well-known groups and anonymous individuals had had fought and continue to fight to restore the South Yuba Watershed to its magnificence.
Vintage postcard of Deer Creek below Nevada City
Soon, it was almost noon and I was exhausted. I considered turning back, but by God, I had to see it. Gold fever had struck.
A man and a teen appeared from the opposite direction.
“Is the golden dog poop ahead?” I asked.
“Yes,” the man laughed.
“Is it on the right or the left?” I asked.
He paused, “I can’t tell you can I? Isn’t it supposed to be a scavenger hunt?”
My expression said, “Really?”
He laughed again. “Don’t worry. You’ll see it.”
They hiked past me, and I was Dorothy with my dog Toto, left with only a path to follow and my own determination.
Which way is the golden dog poop?
The trail bent around a tree and we crossed the irrigation ditch. And then I gasped. I saw it, almost beneath me, the golden dog poop. Eurkea!
The legend, the quest, the doubt, the aloneness, the smell of fires nearby and my own sweat, the crunch of September leaves, historical predicates, my tired dog, and a goal achieved: it was one of the most evocative art experiences of my life.
We turned back and went home, sated.
Soon after, the iconoclasts hit. And one by one, the false idols were destroyed.
There was righteous chirping by some who were pleased that the "stuff" defiling nature was gone, and heartbreak for some who were dismayed that our community proved too provincial to handle challenging art.
On a chilly February morning Tyler Foote and I joined the two Nancys to pick up the shards.
Picking up the pieces with Tyler Foote
The two Nancys were disappointed. I promised them that I would tell the story of Nevada City Alchemy and ART OnSite (which still consists of 15 fascinating multimedia artworks along the 8-mile trail) and let fellow dog-art lovers know that there is a place where you and your dog can explore history, enjoy nature, experience art, and, if you look closely, find a shard of the legendary golden dog poop, a remnant of the controversy in our tiny, complicated town, Nevada City, CA.
Tyler Foote, Nancy Fleming, and Nancy Nelson with a wheelbarrow of golden shards
Dazed from "How I Met Your Mother" by Kathryn Wronski, print available here
Kathryn Wronski, the artist who painted the dog painting on the set of "How I Met Your Mother" lives in my town of Grass Valley, California (population 12,840). I frequently get visitors here on Dog Art Today searching for her, so I wanted to get that information out of the way. You can purchase a print of the dog with the green nose painting in Lily and Marshall's apartment here.
The alternative title to this post is:
"How to be the Alpha Dog Artist in Your Town"
Kathryn Wronski is as talented at marketing as she is at painting. Her work is ubiquitous in Grass Valley and neighboring town, Nevada City (population 3,064), and her name is synonymous with dog art. In fact, it is rare when I meet someone and tell them what I do that the person doesn't respond, "You must know Kathryn Wronski." I did know her through her high-profile presence at Nevada County art openings and marketing seminars, but I decided I needed to get to know her better and find out how she has cultivated her dog-art eminence in a place with more artists per capita than any county in California.
We met for coffee and an interview at the dog-friendly Broad Street Bistro In Nevada City.
Celebration
Moira McLaughlin: How did you begin you career as an artist?
Kathryn Wronski: I actually got my degree in business and tried to make that work for some years. But I wasn't happy in that world. I think I wasn't suited for it because I grew up helping out in my family's flower business in Boston, making bouquets and learning about color and composition at a young age. I missed being creative. So, about 15 years ago after moving to California and raising two children, I started taking private painting lessons and really responded to it.
I knew I needed a solid foundation to pursue being an artist, so I began taking art classes and studied for four years our community college, Sierra College, which has some excellent courses by the way.
MM: Did you begin your studies painting dogs?
KW: No, but when I did, I felt very silly. I was taking an oil painting class with highly-regarded local landscape artist, Phil Brown, and everyone was painting bowls of fruit or the river, and I walk in with this large portrait of my parents' dog, Maggie. I felt like I wasn't being a serious artist. Phil noticed my discomfort and took me aside and told me to only paint dogs for the rest of the semester. He could see in my painting my passion for the subject, and I credit Phil for giving me permission to pursue what made me happy.
Blue, work in progress
Blue
MM: It seems that everyone in our county knows you or your work. How have you established yourself as the premier dog artist in our area?
KW: The most important thing is creating a connection. People want to feel connected to the work and to the artist. I've learned to pay attention to exhibiting my art in places that want me to flourish and that means I had to get over the idea that my work necessarily had to be in a prestigious gallery to sell. For example, being in vets' offices has been great for me. And one to the best outlets for my work has been The Gray Goose in Nevada City, a gift shop that allows dogs.
Also, I have a painting behind the front desk at the Emma Nevada House bed and breakfast, so out-of-towners see my work. I'm very active at two galleries in Grass Valley, ASiF and Art Works. This year I participated in the Soroptmist International of the Sierra Foothills' garden tour. And recently I began showing my work down the hill in Sacramento at Gallery 2110.
MM: I am in awe at how prolific you are. How often do you paint?
KW: Usually six hours a day. I like to paint at night when there are no interruptions. Also, if there is a day when I don't feel like painting, I make myself go into my studio and just work for 20 minutes. I usually find that gets the creative juices going and I stay.
MM: Do you work on more than one painting at a time?
KW: Yes, I usually have ten going at once.
MM: In terms of the products you offer, what are your biggest sellers these days?
KW: Greeting cards at the galleries do well especially for collectors who are obsessed with a certain breed. Prints are harder to sell because people want to buy something that looks exactly like their own dog. My magnets are not big money makers because I make them by hand and they are time consuming, but they are invaluable for commissions. People don't usually decide to commission a piece of art on the spur of the moment. They need to think about it. So, if a magnet of my artwork is on their refrigerator, it's a constant reminder of who I am and what I do.
MM: In addition to people seeing your work all over town on their daily errands.
KW: Exactly.
MM: Do you know there are people who have been searching for you ever since "How I Met Your Mother" began airing? I searched myself when I lived in Los Angeles and I saw your painting on the set of the TV show. I wanted to know who painted the awesome dog painting, and I couldn't find you. I am hoping this post on Dog Art Today changes that.
KW: It's so funny. I've never even seen the show.
MM: How did your dog painting end up on a hit TV series?
KW: The set decorator saw my work and bought some paintings when she was visiting Truckee.
MM: At a gallery?
KW: No, it was a dog grooming place.
MM: I see what you mean. Retail might be a dog artist's best friend. Do you have any other pieces of advice for dog artists who are trying to establish or grow their business?
KW: As artists, it's hard not to take things personally. So make "the personal" work for you. Find places to exhibit your art that want you to flourish, and remember that the connections you make in your daily life have have a huge value for your business.
MM: After so many years, are you still happy painting dogs?
KW: Yes, but I love farm animals too. A pig is a dog with a better nose.
P.S. Today, September 29, 2012, Sacramento's PBS station KVIE is presenting one of Kathryn Wronski's dog paintings in their annual fundraising auction. You can view it here, number 14A Babs and Bubbles. And you can bid on it live on KVIE at 2:30 pm – 3:00 pm, PST.
Babs and Bubbles by Kathryn Wronski, 14A on the KVIE auction
Tyler Foote: American Dog* by Moira McLaughlin, July 4, 2012
Enjoy the 4th.
* Tyler Foote is a road in Nevada County, California built in 1913 by Arthur DeWint Foote, Mary Hallock Foote's husband. It connects North Columbia, California to a town called Cherokee that used to be called Tyler.
Nevada City artist Rosanne Burke'sIke's Quarter Cafe will be featured at tonight's opening reception for the show "Homegrown" at Artist's Studio in the Foothills. The exhibition celebrates the art, wine, food, and farms of Nevada County.
I'll be on the lookout for dogs, like the one in Roseanne's painting that I never noticed before because I was too captivated by the blossoming cherry tree, one of the official harbingers of spring in these parts.
ASiF 940 Idaho Maryland Rd. Grass Valley, CA 95945
Bosco, 6 month Schnauzer/Terrier Mix by Debby Burchett
It was Saturday night. I was in bed, depressed, and trolling for dogs when I saw the photo of Bosco (above).
I emailed the rescue. The next morning, Cheryl Douglass of Chows Plus emailed me back. Yes, Bosco was available. He was with his foster mom, Debby Burchett in Folsom. I called Debby. We had a long discussion about how sweet and happy and affectionate Bosco is. She also mentioned he had an abscess. It didn't sound like a big deal.
I thought about Bosco all day Sunday. I showed his photo to my friends at the pub (seriously we have a pub called Ol' Republic in Nevada City now). I emailed his photo to my mom and dad. I called my friend Kat and asked her to go with me to Folsom on Monday morning. She agreed.
Kat and I arrived at Bosco's foster mom Debby Burchett's tailoring shop, Alterations Express. We waited outside for her. I felt sick. Am I ready to get a dog? It's only been three months.
When Debby arrived we heard the jingle of leashes before we saw the dogs (her other foster dog Raina was with her). When Bosco saw me, he ran into my arms like a cheesy movie of lovers reuniting. He circled round and sat in my lap. Well, that's it. Here's my new dog.
Then I looked down and and saw the abscess. It was swollen, jagged, and gruesome. I couldn't breath.
Debby reassured me I could flush it out and hot pack it and it would heal. She was so confident, coming from the world of horses, that I was encouraged. I called Bosco's vet and they sounded encouraging too. I talked to Cheryl Douglass and we negotiated the care of Bosco's treatment.
I took him home and renamed him Tyler. He was sweet and happy and affectionate…
Then, about 24 hours later he snapped at me. Very aggressively. It was late afternoon on a rainy Tuesday. I had said I would use Bosco/Tyler's vet in Sacramento. That was an hour away and I wasn't sure I would make it time. I called Cheryl and she arranged for me to see a local Nevada City veterinarian named Dr. Denny Nolet at Pine Creek Veterinary Clinic.
I put on my down coat and leather gloves for protection and put Tyler in the car.
When I got to the office Dr. Nolet examined Tyler. He said he wanted to clean out the wound. That meant surgery. I sat in the waiting room, but then Dr. Nolet asked me if I wanted to come in and see.
No, I didn't. Injury makes me queasy. When I was a kid I was traumatized by the safety town movies and the stations of the cross. I never grew out of that.
But I went in.
Tyler was opened up. Dr. Nolet showed me the necrotic tissue he took out. He showed me the suture he found. He showed me the hole so deep you could see Tyler's rib cage. I almost passed out. One of the technnicians rolled over a stool and sat me down.
"How bad is it?" I asked.
"Here's what concerns me…" said Dr. Nolet.
I looked and tried to not look.
"This puncture wound is so deep and so close to the thoracic cavity that there is a risk the membrane that protects it could rupture. If that happens air would rush in. And that is life threatening. There are ways to address it…" (Here's where I don't remember what he said because it felt like my thoracic membrane had ruptured.)
I watched as Dr. Nolet took out more tissue, inserted a tube for drainage, and sewed up Tyler. He scratched his ears as the techs took him out of sedation. He was very gentle with him.
For the next two days Tyler and I slept on the couch that I turned into a furniture fort by wedging it against the coffee table, the dog crate, an easy chair, and a folding chair. I wanted to make it impossible for him to jump down. I couldn't get a cone on him so I cut up some t-shirts to keep him from getting to his stiches. He wasn't doing well…
But he let me take his photo with his tube in…
On Thursday, I was putting a hot compress on his wound and I saw something poke out. It was hard and white. It quickly retreated. I was sleep-deprived and doubted myself. But I saw it again. I called the Pine Creek office and told them. They said bring him in.
Dr. Nolet brought us back into the operating room. He flushed out Tyler's wound. He listened to me as I described what I saw.
"It could be some tissue," he said.
"It didn't look like tissue," I said. After witnessing Tyler's surgery, I knew what tissue from my dog looked like.
"It looked like a rod," I told him.
Silence.
"Maybe it was the microchip," said one of the techs.
That made sense to me, because it looked man made.
Dr. Nolet didn't seem convinced.
I thought about its color and shape. "Maybe it was a tooth," I said.
"Maybe," said Dr. Nolet, "it could be a tooth from a small animal that attacked him and got stuck inside."
That would explain a lot, the swelling, the refusal to heal.
He poked around inside Tyler's stitches and tried to find it. He commented on what a good dog he was for letting him do it. I felt proud, like I had formed his personality in the last three days. Or maybe just proud that I picked such a good boy.
Dr. Nolet didn't find anything. But he wasn't dismissive. He told me that if I saw it again I should pull it out. He sent me home with forceps.
We spent another night on the couch.
The next morning I was doing his hot compress. And I saw it. I didn't have time to get the forceps. I pulled. And pulled. It was wooden and sharp and it kept getting larger in diameter. Tyler was screaming. I could tell there was more inside him and I had to keep pulling until finally it was out. It was about 6" long.
I think it was a coffee stirrer.
Or a stick from a corn dog.
Some people think it was a chopstick.
Or he got shived in Folsom…
Tyler Foote's Stick
I called Pine Creek and babbled what happened.
"Tell her to come in," Dr. Nolet said, "and tell her to bring the stick."
Dr. Nolet cleaned Tyler's wound, checked his tube, and everyone had see the stick and hear the story. Or maybe I just needed to keep repeating it.
After that, Tyler healed quickly. He got his tube out last week and his stitches out this week.
I asked Dr. Nolet if I could interview him. He graciously agreed. I must emphasize graciously because he confessed during the interview that no vet wants to be known for missing a 6" stick inside a dog he operated on. But he was the third vet how saw Tyler. I saw Tyler opened up on the operating table. I can't understand where the stick was hiding (don't you love how I am a surgical expert now?)
Here is our exchange:
Moira McLaughlin (Me): What did you think when you first saw Tyler's wound?
Dr. Nolet: "I thought it wasn't healing properly for the time involved."
MM: When you performed the surgery, you asked me to come in and look. Do you usually do this with pet owners and why?
Dr. Nolet: I ask people if they are interested in seeing it because it can be difficult to explain. I like to give the pet owner as much information as they want.
MM: Well, I want you to know that I really appreciate it. Even though I thought I would faint, it helped me understand what was going on. And it helped me with Tyler's care. What were your thoughts when you opened up the wound?
Dr. Nolet: I was surprised by how deep it was. But I tested his lungs with positive pressure and no air was emitted, so that was good. But, as I mentioned, if that membrane ruptured he could have suffocated.
MM: What did you think when I called and described the stick?
Dr. Nolet: I thought if she's saying six inches then it must be at least two or three. When I saw it I was astounded.
MM: On a scale of 1-10, 10 being the most strange thing you've ever seen in your practice, how strange was this?
Dr. Nolet: a 9.
MM: Do you still have the stick and what will you do with it?
[There was discussion in the office about where the stick was and it didn't turn up.]
Dr. Nolet: If I had it, I would frame it.
I asked if I could take a photo of Tyler and him. (I haven't honed my photographing-a-black-dog skills.)
Dr. Denny Nolet and Tyler
Later, Tyler and I stopped by my sister's art co-op, Art Works, and I asked her take a photo of me and my happy, sweet, affectionate, healthy dog…
I am still processing this whole situation. But I want share this: many campaigns promote rescue dogs with the concept that "they are not damaged." But the truth is even if they are damaged, they still might be excellent dogs.
Also, I am in awe of the people who are on the front lines of rescue. People like Debby Burchett, Tyler's foster mom, who took him in even though he had that wound and she had three other dogs and a business to run.
And Dr. Denny Nolet and the the staff at Pine Creek Veterinary Clinic. I don't know what would have happened if he had not agreed to see us on that rainy night, or if he had shut me down when I told him I saw something. Thank you for listening. And for empowering me to "pull it out."
Above all, thank you Cheryl Douglass of Chows Plus for trusting your instincts and rescuing Tyler from the City of Sacramento Animal Shelter, who does a terrific dog promoting highly-adoptable dogs, but understandably doesn't have the ability to handle special cases like Tyler's.
As promised, Chows Plus paid for Tyler's medical expenses. And incurring that cost challenges the organization's ability to rescue and treat other dogs. If you would like to make a donation in honor of Tyler or Dog Art Today or me on my birthday today, please donate below…
A stray named Loukanikos (sausage) always seems to show up at the front lines of the recent riots in Greece. He is becoming legend in a country with an unparalleled history of heroes, gods, and revolutionaries.
