Cows are the mother of us all, or at least the wet nurse. They nurture us long after the women who birthed us, and provide meat for supper, leather for shoes, recreational vehicles for the rodeo and various other things we turn into fertilizer and fuels.
That has won them a long, and rather personal, place in the history of art, giving all those cow paintings that take over Denver galleries during the National Western Stock Show and Rodeo frenzy a pedigreed past. and painted cows, and so did . Warhol turned them into some of the most colorful wallpaper ever invented.
Today’s cow painters follow suit and the spirit, though they up the character quotient for the age of personality we live in. The cattle you see hanging about galleries these days tend to be full of unique disposition. Unlike paintings of horses — the other animal that dominates Western art — cows tend to look directly at you, challenging the viewer to some kind of human-bovine staring contest.
“When it comes to horses, people have this reverence for them, this mystical thing that elevates them to a spiritual level,” said , a cow-culture expert who curates the at the in Denver.
Horses captured on canvas usually come off as regal, muscular, serious. They’re often presented in full form with perfect proportions, or captured in motion to show off their agility and grace.
“With cows, you eat them. It’s much more tongue-in-cheek,” said Frederick.
That whimsical quality can make them hot commodities in the art market. They don’t fetch the cash that horse paintings do, but people like them, naturally, and the collector market is steady.
One of the most successful cow painters in Colorado is , who is showing this month at the Coors display and at a sweeping Western art group exhibit at Denver’s . She’s been painting professionally for only four years, but her bovine portraits “have kind of put my name on the map,” she said.
Her cows are given the Brad Pitt treatment, often captured in extreme closeups like movie stars. They’re abstract, with layers of paint and evocative shadings, but they focus tight on the eyes. She envisions them looking through windows.
“I will zoom in on a particular cow face that I feel that connection to,” said Sroka, who grew up in Fort Collins a good distance from actual cow pastures. “I have to feel that. Otherwise, I’m not drawn to paint them.”
Painting cows came to her as a “happy accident,” she said. She saw a cow in a field and made an oil portrait. Her art dealer knew she was onto something and encouraged her specialty. “People have this immediate connection to them, even if they’re not cow people,” she said.
, this year’s featured artist in the Coors show, takes the idea even further. She paints a variety of subjects — people, landscapes — but her cows get special treatment. She bathes them in the sort of glowing light often used for religious portraits.
Her pictures of , and assorted Texas longhorns are hyper-realistic, though often edged in the orange-gold highlights of a reflected sunset, or set against a brilliant blue sky or field of yellow grass. They look wise beyond their years and command attention as individuals.
“Once you spend some time in a pasture with the same group of cows, you start to see the differences in how they act,” she said. As with a human portraits, the artist tries to capture their individuality while staying true to the physical facts.
Cow rendering comes with its challenges. Elliott paints some large bulls, and she generally feels safe on the job. “But you can never really discount the fact that anytime you are around large animals anything can happen at any time.”
Plus, cows aren’t always natural subjects. “I think horses are easier to paint. Their hair is free-flowing, their lines are so graceful. The silhouette of a cow is so boxy.”
Oregon artists paint dogs, horses — even pigs — but their cow pieces keep the family business going. The husband-and-wife duo work together, simultaneously attacking canvases until a painting is done. They have several cow portraits in the Abend Gallery show.
Cows, Tod said, seem similarly calm on the outside, but “a lot of these guys are real individuals. Some are very clever, and some are imaginative with what it takes to get out of a pen. Some are sweet. Some are ornery.”
The Steeles try to get at what makes their subjects unique. Like the other painters, they work tight, emphasizing the species’ compelling stare. The Steeles’ personal style is to over-exaggerate color to the point where it looks lit up, artificial. This increases the fun factor while keeping the personality large.
Tod believes the bond between people and cows is “in our DNA.”
“It’s amazing all the city people who come up and have an immediate connection to our work.”
Ray Mark Rinaldi: 303-954-1540, rrinaldi@denverpost.com or twitter.com/rayrinaldi
