Walnut Ink on Canvas

30” x 40”

In a gallery hall, guests at the opening reception couldn’t wait to tell me, “Once I saw the title, I knew exactly what your painting meant.” No two people described the same meaning. And none of them guessed why I really titled it, “The Answer’s No”.

I loved that.

My story that inspired this piece doesn’t matter any more than the countless stories like it. What they all “knew” were painful lessons about love and loss shaped by raising animals for food. I heard experiences of blood, sacrifice, devotion, and beef prices. Each one unique, but certain.

That was before the disaster that ultimately changed nothing.

The painting was water-damaged in storage, leaving faint streaks that are still visible between the calf’s eyes. I took this opportunity to call the painting unfinished, and make myself more clear: you can’t properly value a gift without confronting the cost of losing it. I splashed more walnut hull and ink across the calf’s body. It changed the damage from slight imperfections to what it was always meant to be:

Hard to bear. Heart-wrenching. Complicated.

I am deeply grateful to calf A14 who taught me this lesson personally. The danger of love is loss, and it’s only right to feel both completely. Without one, I don’t believe the other can ever be known.

Can you have one without the other? “The Answer’s Still No”

An innocent calf challenges the viewer with its fragility. The ultimate dare:

Can you show me love daily, knowing you will eat me?

Can you be kind when resentment rises?

Can you afford to keep me if you can’t bear to lose me?

Can you receive my blessings while bearing my curse?

The complexity compounds with every shared experience. Especially today, when so many people are removed from the care — and the sacrifice—required to eat. They’ll never know the battle of loving what was meant to pay a bill or fill a belly.

Whether I took the life with my own hands or not makes a huge difference in how I feel about a meal. About taste. About portion size. About quality. Everything changes when you held the knife and their daily treats.

For me, this painting is an offering of gratitude for the farmer or rancher who choose to love the creatures they must inevitably destroy, every single day.

Thank you to my father, who custom built the frame with wood from his home.

Thank you to my grandmother, who let me gather her walnuts.

Thank you to my mother and stepfather, for raising A14 with love.

Includes certificate of authenticity. Shipping included.

Gallery debut at Cheyenne Frontier Days Old West Museum “Western Spirit Art Show & Sale” 2024