The little baba is away in Portugal, so I have been a lonely soul, washed up on the shores of auntydom. I nearly posted a poem about being in love with his lit soul, but wasn't sure you could handle any more gooey shmaltz. So, instead, a post about dogs. I went to an art lecture today, tracing the incredibly diverse presence of dogs in art through the middle ages (depicted as healers of the plague, jousters, carved into marble tombs to accompany humans into afterlife), in heraldry, and on towards Reynolds, Hogarth, Gainsborough, Turner and Stubbs. Even Freud, Bacon and Warhol were flung in for good measure.
George Stubbs'
White Poodle in a Punt (doesn't he look worried, poor little chap?) and Edwin Landseer's
Dignity and Impudence melded beautifully with the more tortured
Dawn After the Wreck by William Turner.
I listened to the speaker in awe, wishing I could
be her! It must be wonderful to have an easy fluency with a certain subject, be historically accurate, and hold your audience captivated in the globe of your hand.
I learnt one interesting thing. I always thought dogs were associated with men, as faithful companions, but in fact, dogs are more usually portrayed with women, beside their tombs, to depict the fidelity and loyalty of women. Or in their arms, in family portraits, to assure the viewer of a stable and content home life. At weddings, they brought good fortune. My parents were married with Mum's dachshund Hansel, curled comfortably on their feet. Even when prodded, he would not budge. A sure sign of good things to come!
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| Landseer, Windsor Castle in Modern Times |
