The dog ate my still life

AKA: Un chien andalou a mangé ma “nature morte”

If this is a critique from beyond the grave, it is deserved, and I accept it wholeheartedly.


The name “en plein air” bestows upon painting outdoors that “légèreté” and romance instilled in most French terms imported into English.

It’s a seductive notion which becomes at best cumbersome, and at worst dangerous (!) when translated into real life.

In search of something “typically spanish” to draw and paint, my olfactory senses drew me to a churrería at the Puente del Isabel (opposite side of bridge from that ‘pinpointed’ on the map). Unable to enjoy the taste these wheat-y fried delights myself, I decided I would commit myself to enjoying their greasy visual appeal (and possibly sampling the very thick drinking/dunking chocolate with which they are served).

I unravelled my visual breakfast on the grassy bank of the river (lets not get too romantic here, I had to kick a fair number of cigarette butts out of my path to do so) and had a bit of a go at getting a light drawing down, while fending off flies and ants from the subject at hand.

I did not realised I would soon be facing down a more sizeable foe, in the shape of a stray mutt. I had a bit of a swipe at it (being pretty comfortable around dogs) before remembering the faff of rabies vaccinations for my sister’s pooches, and thus the potential dangers involved.

So the stray mutt had a rare old time polishing off every “churro”, licking the paper clean and even ripping through the paper cup for better access to it’s chocolatey contents. It was a massacre of the proportions of the recent Germany vs Brazil world cup match.

I had a go at finishing without the subject in front of me.

Here it is “the dog’s dinner”:




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