Cooper, 1996, pastel, 22” x 17” © B. E. Kazmarski

Seeing Mimi settling down near Peaches’ portrait reminded me of another instance of a cat communicating with one of my portraits.

I usually keep in touch with the family for whom I’ve created a portrait. We’ve often done quite a bit of work determining the exact posture and scene for a portrait, gathering images and sometimes I paint purely from visualizing what my customer is describing. Also, nearly half my portraits have been memorials, created either after the animal has passed or around the time of its passing, and working out the details of the portrait include working through a certain portion of the family’s grief.

Besides that, we came together to do their portrait because we love animals, and that’s a natural friendship. I often hear news of the household, the arrivals of new animal companions and the passing of others, and stories of the household in general.

In the months after I finished Cooper’s portrait, I received a call from his family to tell me the sad news that they had lost Patches to complications from polyps she had developed in one ear.

Patches and Cooper had been best buddies. Cooper had passed about a year before I painted his portrait, and when it was finished and we hung it over the couch, I met Patches and the other kitties they had rescued and adopted, inspired by their love of Cooper.

Soon after, Patches showed signs of illness, but it took a number of tests to find the polyps. They were inoperable, and while her family eagerly tried a number of standard medical treatments as well as naturopathic treatments, all too soon she was losing her battle.

Detail of Cooper's face.

They told me that just days before Patches died, even though she was weak and declining quickly, one evening she climbed up on the back of the couch, sat up and gently touched the glass over Cooper’s face in the portrait, looked at him for a short while, then carefully got down.

“Was she saying, ‘There you are,’ or ‘I’m coming, I’ll see you soon,’ we don’t know,” they commented. “After that, she seemed to accept what was happening to her.”

Anyone who has lived with animals knows that they communicate with us as well as with each other, and that they experience the same range of emotions as we do, including love and grief.

When I create a piece of artwork, any subject, I not only work with the images I have and the medium I’ve chosen, but I also instill what I would be sensing if I was standing in that spot, and what I’m feeling about the subject, all as if I was experiencing it in that moment.

When the subject is one of my animal portraits I also consider the relationship between the animal or animals and their family while I’m working, either through observation or from what they’ve related to me.

In the case of Cooper’s portrait, I had received a call from someone saying he had one photo of his girlfriend’s cat who had passed the previous year and he’d like to give her a portrait of him for the anniversary of his passing and her birthday, which were close—and also a little over a month away. It was possible to paint and finish, mat and frame a portrait in that time, but as I still worked a day job with a lot of variables I usually wouldn’t risk it, except that he had given the same photo to another artist who had not gotten the portrait done and still felt strongly that the portrait was what she needed to have.

This could be tricky—not only would I not be able to meet Cooper, nor would I be able to meet his person or see the household or have any other connection with my subject other than this one photo, and the portrait was fairly large, 22″ x 17″. But though he only had the one photo, he was generous with stories about Cooper and the household, and very much emotionally invested in the project himself.

We did meet the deadline, and in that concentrated period I spent a good bit of time considering what he’d told me about Cooper and the household.

I know that depth was invested in the portrait itself, showing in a physical manner—I always say that I paint until my subjects look back at me—and perhaps in a spiritual manner as well, recognizable by humans and animals as well. My families will tell me that, though I’ve often thought it was the confused musings of someone who stayed up too late and spent too much time alone with my painting.

Cooper’s story is this:

Cooper's page in Great Rescues

Cooper had literally been born in a barn but was adopted to a friend of the farm owner who cared deeply for his barn cats including the occasional drop-offs and strays. Cooper lived happily with his mom for three years as she moved from Pittsburgh to Philadelphia and became engaged to a man who was dangerously allergic to cats. Though they tried treatments his reaction was life-threatening and she carefully began the process of finding a home for her precious Cooper. The same farmer put her in contact with Cooper’s eventual mom, who had recently divorced and bought a house but resisted the idea of a pet. On a trip to Philly for a conference she met Cooper, enjoyed the visit, but said no. After a week alone in her house, she called the woman back and said she needed Cooper’s company. Cooper was chauffeured back across the state to his new forever home.

Cooper’s portrait and rescue story are featured in Great Rescues Calendar and Gift Book.

Simon Says...

Each family for whom I have created a portrait also has a continuing story and so much to tell, like this story of Patches and Cooper. This family has continued to rescue other cats, including Simon, and I’ll have more stories to tell about their family of cats ranging from those comfortably indoors to those who visit the feeding stations outdoors and use the carefully constructed shelters in the winter.

Also, read about my commissioned portraits and visit my website to see samples of cat portraits, dog portraits and more.

Bernadette Kazmarski calls Great Rescues, her one-woman work of wonders a “calendar,” and it is, but that’s just for starters. Literally. The first thirty-two pages of the 8”x8” spiral-bound book comprise a sixteen-month calendar that runs from September 2011 to December 2012. Each two-page spread features the true story of one or more rescued cats, together with Bernadette’s exquisitely detailed portraits of them (all in all, twenty-two cats are pictured).   The calendar pages have room for appointments, some blank lines for notes,  a famous feline-friendly quotation, a tip that sets the tone for the month, and more special days that honor cats and other animals than you’ve ever seen listed in one place.

The middle section of the book contains a few pages to update the rescue stories and discuss the making of the individual portraits, then a dozen pages of resources.  A cat rescuer herself for twenty-five years, Bernadette states that the information she has chosen to include is what people most commonly ask about.  All the basics are there, and they reflect the central theme of the book—which is the human/cat bond: adoption, routine and emergency veterinary care, spay and neuter, household hazards, pet loss support.

At this point the book becomes a journal.  There are forty pages with lines ready to record all the clever things your cats do or to track their growth or maybe chart their veterinary visits and medication schedules. Or not.  Here’s a different plan:  How about committing to one action per day, small or large, in support of cat rescue? S-t-r-e-t-c-h your imagination to come up with as many different actions as possible, maybe even a different one for every day of the year. Bernadette has sprinkled ideas throughout Great Rescues that will spark your creativity.

This book is dedicated to Bernadette’s first family of cats. All long since departed from the physical world, she notes that they are made immortal in everything she creates. That’s a lot of immortality, as she has drawn the portraits, written the stories, compiled the resources and then designed the thing and finally published it herself.  Lovely to look at and read and hold in the hands, Great Rescues is an altogether “up” experience, where people are compassionate and good, and however troubled their beginnings, all cat stories have happy endings.

Marion Lane

Former Editor, ASPCA Animal Watch Magazine

Cobleskill, New York