Penelope Jayne and her four toy poodle studio muses

Penelope Jayne and her Four Toy Poodle Studio Muses

People often ask where inspiration comes from.Light, nature, memory, the sea… these all find their way into my paintings. But there are four very small muses who quietly shape my days in the studio. Jacques Pierre, Jean-Luc, Éma Chantelle, and little Bisou Marcel are my four toy poodle studio muses.

They are my studio companions, my audience, my guardians, and occasionally — my greatest distraction.

Most mornings begin with music drifting through the studio while I paint. I love working to the gentle piano of composer Ludovico Einaudi, whose music fills the room with a quiet rhythm that seems to guide the brush across the canvas.

And beneath the easel, beneath the table, beneath my feet…

four pairs of watchful eyes.

Jacques Pierre, my eldest at ten years old, carries the wisdom of the group. He has a daily ritual: he checks on my husband Sean upstairs, making sure everything is in order, then returns to the studio to supervise my work like a small curly-haired foreman.

Jean-Luc, three years old, is my shadow. Wherever I go, he goes. Studio, kitchen, garden, even the bathroom. He will not eat unless I pat him gently and tell him he is a good boy. Only then does he begin.

Éma Chantelle is what I affectionately call a lap tart. If I sit down for even a moment, she believes it is an invitation for a full day of cuddling. She curls up like a little cloud and sleeps happily while I sketch or write.

And then there is Bisou Marcel, the youngest at one year old.

Bisou lives for one thing.

The ball.

He will bring it to me while I am painting, drop it at my feet, kick it forward like a tiny soccer player, and stare at me as if to say:

"Surely this painting can wait."

When we are at the beach, he transforms into a completely different dog — sprinting through sand, diving into waves, even swimming in the ocean just to retrieve that beloved ball.

They are all beach dogs. They love the sand, the salt air, the rhythm of the waves.

Jacques Pierre, however, prefers to remain dignified and will only venture into the water knee-deep before deciding that is quite enough adventure for one day.

Jean-Luc is braver. When I swim out through the waves, he tries to follow me, paddling furiously as though he has appointed himself my personal lifeguard.

Back in the studio, the day continues with brushes, colour, music… and bones.

Because when the dogs bring their treasures into the studio, they do so very quietly. I rarely notice them.

Until I begin dancing to the music while painting.

More than once I have stepped directly onto a carefully placed bone mid-twirl.

It is one of the hazards of sharing a creative space with four small curators of chaos.

But truthfully, I wouldn’t change a thing.

My days are filled with paint, music, sand, laughter, and dogs.

And I love it.

So I often wonder…

Do you have a muse?

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