How Alison Friend became an internationally beloved artist and THE painter of dogs: An interview

by #LizPublika

It’s hard to say when, exactly, the world became so fascinated with the work of English artist Alison Friend, but sometime between the height of the global Covid pandemic and now, she evolved into a household name. One quick glance at her animal paintings, most of which are of dogs, explains her rise in popularity plainly and clearly — they are depicted as so many of us understand and imagine them to be; full of personality, engaging in their hobbies, and expressing a wide range of emotions with facial features we so often attribute to our pets without even realizing. Her work speaks to us, in part, because animals do. 

It’s easy to see that Friend is an animal lover and has been for most of her life, long before she became the painter of dogs. It partially stems from her early childhood, from the days she observed her father take care of the animals they owned. It was the same way she came to love painting; she watched her dad put paintbrush to paper as a youth and then embodied it, as kids do. The joy from those experiences, both of which she recalls with warmth, seeps into her work today and then funnels through into the lives of the people who go out of their way to own it. And that’s exactly why she does it — making others happy makes Friend happy. 

When speaking to Friend, it’s clear she loves what she does. Given the opportunity to do just about anything else, she’s still likely to pick her art. In our interview, she stressed that art was something she did entirely too much, but also not nearly enough. She loves abstract work and wants her own paintings to be more experimental. Her goal, she says, is to set aside one day per week for further developing her practice with that purpose in mind. She is yet to achieve it, and it’s not for the lack of trying. Turns out, being an in-demand and working artist takes up a lot of time. 

Although friend is known as a painter to most of the world, she is also a genuine stonemason. After graduating from Nottingham Trent University with a degree in Fine Art and Printmaking, she accepted a stonemasonry apprenticeship with Nottingham City Council, thereby becoming the first female employed by the city in this role. While Friend may be credited for breaking through the glass ceiling, she encountered many sharp edges provided by some of the people she worked with, who didn’t appreciate having a female in this capacity. Still, she didn’t let them bother her too much and eventually became stonemason of the year. 

Friend is also an accomplished children’s book illustrator. After her time as a stonemason, the artist and her partner at the time relocated to Seattle, where she encountered an entirely new world. She said that even though she watched enough American television to earnestly believe that the transition wouldn’t be so serious, moving to the U.S. after never having left the UK before made it feel like a different reality. Indeed, the initial transition was difficult for her, but the one thing that America provided for her, back then, was a sense of possibility. That, she said, was not something she grew up with and it allowed her to reinvent herself. 

She spent seven years building up her portofolio and pitching publishing houses to get her foot through the door. The effort paid off, and Friend found herself employed as an illustrator shortly after getting back to the UK, in 2007. With over 20 book titles under her belt, she’s had the pleasure of working with many renowned companies, from Harper Collins to Artisan. But making art on demand for other people based on their requirements and not her passion left Friend longing for a project of her own. Oddly enough, the opportunity was finally presented by Covid. It’s what allowed her to become the artist the world is now obsessed with. 

ARTpublika Magazine spoke to Alison Friend to learn more about her charming dog portraits, the journey that brought her to this moment, and her genuine love of spreading joy through art. 

Let’s start at the beginning, where did you grow up? 

I grew up in South Yorkshire, in a place called Doncaster. I was the only child; my mom was 40 when she had me, but my dad was 60. 

Did you always like drawing? How did you get into it? 

I spent my whole childhood drawing. My dad was a painter. [He wasn’t] a professional artist — he was a telecom engineer — but he used to paint horses, dogs, and birds. So I’d sit next to him, painting and drawing. I used to be fascinated by him; I basically wanted to be him. I even used to get my mom to buy me the same cardigans and the same shirts as him. He passed away when I was eight, but he gave me this love of painting and drawing that I’ve had obsessively since. 

Do you remember your dad well? 

[These] are very vague, but I do have memories of watching him paint in his shed at the bottom of the garden, but I have strong memories of standing in the doorway of the shed and just being able to smell the oil and sawdust. It was amazing. It was only a few years ago that I started using oil paints. The smell of them, [brought some of those memories] back to me. 

If oil painting  became your primary focus during the pandemic, what did you use initially?

Anything, really. I just liked making and building things, like out of cardboard and stuff. I know my dad had all of his paints in tubes, which made them very proper and correct. And I remember being very precious about a set of watercolor paints in tubes that I had, these were gifted to me on Christmas, and I don’t think I’ve ever used them. I think I just used to look at them. No one could touch them. 

Were they sacred items? 

Yeah, they were just too good and too treasure-like to use. So yeah, I used to use anything. There are some photographs of me sort of knocking around in the garden, just at this old school desk with all this art equipment around me. I guess I needed some brothers and sisters. But yeah, I was an obsessive little artist. 

What did you draw? 

I remember having a big animal encyclopedia. I used to copy the drawings and photographs in this encyclopedia and write a little bit about what I drew next to it. I was a little nerd. 

If you had to critique your own work from when you were a young artist, what would you say is your best piece? 

Gosh, I don’t know! But, I wish I painted with that sort of carefreeness these days. There is nothing better than a child’s drawing. I think that as time goes on, you lose that sort of whimsey. But in elementary school, I remember the teacher there sort of clocking me as being a good artist. She used to get me to do all sorts of drawings and displays for school.

When you had to adjust to life without your dad, is painting how you did it? 

Yeah, it is actually. You know, doing these interviews recently, I’ve had cause to think back at these kinds of things. I used to draw funny cartoons of the neighbor's cats and dogs doing stupid things to make my mom laugh, because she was really struggling as well. I’d always remember the moment I’d give them to her and she’d be laughing and smiling at them. I felt like that was kind of my superpower; that I could cheer my mom up by painting and drawing. And I think that’s where I’ve developed a bit of an addiction, I can make people happy with my paintings. Even in children's books, I know that that is happening: I paint and people smile and they’re happy. 

So, is it safe to say that this went from being a coping mechanism to a source of joy?

Yeah, I think so. I’ve only realized that in recent years, as well. 

When you were a kid, what was your favorite subject matter? 

Same as now, I suppose, dogs and cats. I’d love to do cartoon strips, so I guess this also was quite handy and led to the children’s book illustrating. 

Did you have pets growing up? 

Yes, we usually had something. I grew up with a couple of dogs. I guess the main one was a West Highland White Terrier called Cindy, a very 1980s name, and she knew all my secrets. I was the only child, so Cindy was cried on; she got all my heartbreak. Poor thing.

Hmm, did she provide inspiration for your art? 

Yes. The side eyes [that appear in a lot of my] paintings, are probably the result of me telling her all my secrets. Listening, going like: ”Uhm, again?” Dogs are the best listeners. 

Did you paint her? 

Yes, I painted her several times. 

Do you still have those works?

I do still have a Cindy painting. It’s actually a pastel drawing, but yeah. 

When you got to high school, what stuff did you really like doing and what stuff did you really not like doing? 

I guess the first time we started drawing the figure from nude models and stuff. I really enjoyed that. I think my drawing became more sculptural. Drawing from life and really looking at the human form and the negative spaces, the way people moved and pose, changed and improved my draftsmanship skills. I used to love it. And I have not done it since. It’s quite hard to find people, at least where I live, to undress and pose for you. But I just love drawing the figure. But it’s funny because I used to hate drawing humans when I did the picture books. 

Why? 

I don’t know. Live drawings are about observation, all the negative spaces in the body. But I guess when I was painting the picture books, it was all stuff from my head. 

How did you become a stonemason? When did this happen?

I don’t know. I didn’t do too much 3-dimensional stuff in college. But I saw an advert in the newspaper for an apprentice stonemason. [Based on the job description, you get paid to go to college and learn stone carving, and I thought: “This is it! This is amazing, I am going to apply for this job.” 

What did you envision yourself doing when you applied for this job? 

I thought I’d be on top of cathedrals carving gargoyles, and it wasn’t far from that, I have to say. In England’s south coast, there’s a place called the Isle of Portland in Dorset, where all the limestone for city buildings comes from. They have a stonemasonry college, the Nottingham City Council sent me down there for a year to do stone carving and I was the only woman among lots of young men. 

How was that experience?

The guys couldn’t understand why the counsel employed a female, and they used to say horrible things to me. But I had the last laugh; I graduated from stonemasonry college and won stonemason of the year. But it was quite a brutal job, there was a lot of lifting and constantly working outside. Then, I got the opportunity to leave the job and move to America, so I took it. 

What made you relocate? 

My partner at the time got a job in the US with a games company. I had a choice: I could either stay in England and freeze my ass off on scaffolding on the side of a stone building, or I could move to America and start a new life. I’ve never left the UK, so it was a huge move and I think having watched all the American TV shows in the 1980s, I thought it would be like a breeze. But I was culturally struck moving there. It took more than a year to settle in. 

But America is where your illustrating career was established. How did it start for you? 

I was fortunate. I didn’t have a visa to work when I moved to the states, so my partner suggested I just work on my portfolio. I’ve always wanted to get into children’s books, so I spent the next few years going to conventions, visiting publishers, and hitting the pavement — painting lots of dogs, since I really wanted a dog book. 

It wasn’t long before we moved back to the UK that I got a card from Candlewood press. It said that they really loved my dog paintings and that I should stay in touch. I thought: “That’s it, I made it!” And then there was nothing else for a bit. So, we moved back to the UK with our little boy and I got an email saying: “Would you like to work on this manuscript? Take your time, read it through. Let us know.” It was a reprint of an old 1970s book called What color is Caesar? by Maxine Kumin. I was just beside myself. I still have the sketches! 

It’s funny because it was a Dalmatian with an identity crisis. But it was a challenging book to start with because I’ve obviously had to paint Caesar on every one of the 32 pages, so I had to make a spot map of his body for the spots to appear in exactly the same place in every painting. 

I think that the people who are familiar with my work now wouldn’t be able to recognize the style used for the picture books. I had a separate portfolio and a different style for each publisher that I’ve worked with. I think they loved that because they thought they were getting an exclusive style. I am quite versatile. I didn’t mimic their house style, but I certainly mimicked the illustrators I loved at the time. I looked at the techniques they were using. I didn’t know what my actual style was at that time. 

How long did it take you to discover it? 

I think it’s only since I’ve started doing these paintings that I feel comfortable. But back then, I was able to take any style and maintain it throughout the book, so it was quite beneficial; depending on the story, I could tweak the style. 

What kinds of artists did you mimic? 

Well, I was obsessed with the pen work of Maurice Bernard Sendak. I went through a big cross hatching period. I love Jon Klassen! His work is magic — the textures that he uses, the simplicity of his characters. One of his books is just shapes, but he just makes them alive. I remember obsession over his work. 

What kinds of art do you like that’s not for children? 

I love abstract work. As I got older, I came to have an appreciation for it. I’m just really drawn to color these days, and shape, it’s the complete polar opposite to what I do. You may have read about the artist support pledge; my partner and I both did it during the pandemic, and we both have an art collection now as a result, because of how it worked. Basically, you did a painting and you put it up for sale for less than $200; once you have sold $1000 worth of art, you buy another artist’s art work. For a lot of artists who were struggling during the pandemic, it became this real sort of job. They would get up in the morning, paint a painting, and sell it in the evening. 

Was that inspiring or tiring, to maintain that level of productivity? 

It was inspiring, but when it really took off, it was also a little bit terrifying. People were just crazy for the paintings. I had to do one painting every day, because by 8pm, I was getting messages saying: What are you posting today? I’ll have it.” without having seen it! But the same thing was happening to my partner in Manchester, so we were both on these parallel journeys. We were selling a lot of work, but we were also buying a lot of work. I’ve developed a lot as an artist during that period. 

You’ve mentioned that the quality so many people like in your dog pictures is their eyes and eyebrows. How do you bridge reality with fiction? 

It’s funny isn't it? The characters themselves are quite cartoonish in the way they look, but their features and the way their fur is rendered, I keep very traditional. Things like adding eyebrows to a dog's face can change it for the better. 

Why do you love animals? 

What’s not to love? My dad’s love for animals and the care he had for the animals in our life was just ingrained in me. And the love that we get back from dogs is unconditional, pure, and beautiful. I just love dogs. 

As you paint, do you catch yourself smiling or pulling the face you’re painting? 

All the time. And I make myself laugh with the stupid puns I come up with. 

There are many ways to paint a portrait, are your dog painting your portraits? 

All the scruffy terriers that I do. 

Is there anything you’d like to add that was not mentioned in this interview?

I’d love to tell you about my book. I think I can spill the beans about it now. I’m so excited about it. On a recent trip to NYC I saw proofs and it really is a dream come true. It’s called Dog Only Knows (2025) — looking for that pun as always. It’s funny beginning the interview talking about where it all started and ending up with this. I feel very grateful.