8″x10″ acrylic, 2012. Here’s another “symbolic” family portrait as vintage Fisher-Price Little People! This one was commissioned by Dominic as a Mother’s Day present for his wife Cassandra. In order to represent the couple and their little son Isaac with some accuracy, I took artistic liberties with the classic Little People designs. Dominic requested that I invent a beard for him, so I lifted the detailing from a Fisher-Price Sesame Street Gordon doll and then embellished the facial hair. Dominic typically wears a hat, so I took one from what I think is a Little People mailman and put it atop the classic, green-bodied dad figure. The only female African American Little Person was Susan, whose hairstyle was less representative of Cassandra’s than the standard-issue mother doll’s ponytail, so I changed the coloring and made use of that form. Luckily, a small boy figure that well represents Isaac actually existed. Dominic tells me that they might have an updated portrait made in a couple of years, as the family is expecting a baby girl this August!
Tag: acrylic
Asa
6″x8″ acrylic on cardboard, 2012. This painting, the second of two portrait gifts for Kathleen from Paul, features their three-year-old son Asa. I have experienced Asa’s ardor for trucks and trains first-hand, as Asa and Sonja sometimes get to play together. He imbues them with vigorous, joyful personalities, and expresses his deepest good will by offering his favorites to his playmates to borrow. It was such a pleasure to paint his sweet, striking face, which in person is incredibly animated — Paul tells me that it was nearly impossible to get him to be still long enough for a decent photo! Here are my recent portraits of Sonja and Asa side-by-side:
My Little Pegasus
5″x7″ acrylic on cardboard, 2012. A collection of portraits of classic toys would not be complete without a My Little Pony! Between commissions, I’m building up a body of toy paintings for an upcoming August exhibit. This tiny Pegasus came from our amazing local thrift store, which had a whole basket of Little Ponies. Judging from my daughter’s delight and immediate confiscation of my “model,” we will be going back for more!
Fisher Price Family
6″x8″ acryic on cardboard, 2012. Here’s a symbolic portrait of our family, each of us represented by a vintage Fisher-Price Little Person. My husband’s incredibly sentimental response to the piece was, of course, “Where’s my hair?” If you’d like a Little People portrait of your own family, please be in touch!
Sonja With Braids
5″x7″ acrylic on cardboard, 2012. Took a break from the toys to paint my favorite little face… Sonja is four, and I think I’m going to try to make yearly portraits of her from now on. Is it evident that I love the Andrew Wyeth Helga paintings? Sonja’s braids definitely conjured them for me! 
Two Cowboys
5″x9″ acrylic on board, 2012. I wonder if my two vintage, wooden Fisher Price Little People cowboys have any idea how laden with significance they seem to be? I posed them on this chess board just because it was handy. However, my husband, who rarely comments on my painting, said “I like your cowboys! What are you trying to say by positioning them as king and queen on that chess board?” My father, upon seeing the painting, remarked “When you played with these 35 years ago you were obsessed about them as models for the perfect man in your life. You just couldn’t decide between red or yellow hat, so you married one that doesn’t wear a hat.” Okay…
UPDATE: My dad made up the thing about my embuing them with creepy symbolism. Thanks Dad!
Hamtaro and Totoro, take 4
8×10 acrylic on cardboard, 2012. These two are long-time V.I.P. toys in our house, and this is my fourth portait of them! The first two versions were puchased off the walls of exhibits, and the third was commissioned by someone who had seen the second but didn’t get to it before it sold. My husband and I originally bought the foot-tall Hamtaro in 2004 as a sort of mascot for his Toyota Matrix, which we called “The Hamster.” We bought the little Totoro for Sonja, hoping she would love the movie as much as we do (and she does!) I got myToulouse Lautrec on with this portrait, which is painted on a piece of cardboard that has been calling to me from the back of one of Sonja’s activity books for weeks!
Owl Finger Puppet
8″x10″ acrylic, 2012. We bought three of these little guys in different colors from the gift shop at the wonderful Saratoga Children’s Museum. Sonja barely had to point at them and I was already gathering them up, saying, “of course we’re getting these!” I actually don’t often encounter toys that I’m moved to buy, but when I do, there is no hesitation. Rarely one to use a toy for its intended purpose, today Sonja stuffed this poor finger-puppet full to bursting with “noise putty.” Fun! And gross!
Curious George
8″x10″ acrylic, 2012. Rather than languish in my post-holiday slow season, I’ve embarked on a series of portraits of classic toys. Here’s a jaunty stuffed Curious George… he’s trying to get the attention of my daughter, to no avail. Like most little kids, she does not value toys for their classic-ness, and currently would rather focus on future classics such as the Octonauts. Sorry, George!
Raggedy Ann
8″x10″ acrylic, 2012. This vintage 1970’s Knickerbocker Raggedy Ann is identical to the one I had when I was little. Mine is long gone, as her face was irreparably loved right off! I bought this one (along with an Andy) off of Etsy for Sonja’s recent fourth birthday. So far, she is fairly indifferent to it, but I’m hoping that she will eventually discover what an ideal sleeping companion this doll is. I have very strong sense memories of her firm flatness against me and the comforting, yarny smell of her hair. I was thrilled that the fabric of the dress is even the exact same soft, lightweight cotton with a tiny flowered print, and also to find the heart containting the words “I Love You” printed on her chest that I remember so well.
Sonja actually did instigate this painting, saying, “Mommy, I think I want a portrait of Raggedy Ann.”
“Sure, I can paint her for you,” I said.
“No, I’M going to do it,” she insisted. So we sat down together and worked on our respective versions! 
