there's a dog in this portrait. really

thanks again wikimedia commons

This is Anastasia Ivanovna, Countess of Hesse-Homburg, Princess Trubetskaya, and she needs to stop posing and pick up her dog. Do you see it? It's a tiny brown mop down by her feet. Maybe it's a fluffy chihuahua (there apparently were a few to be found in Europe then). What else would be that miniscule and furry?

Alexander Roslin (Swiss, 1718 - 1793) a painter of highly formal aristocratic portraits, executed this in 1757. Which I feel neatly solves the question of why he didn't have her cuddle the dog: She died in 1755. It's a posthumous portrait. There must have been miniatures or sketches of her somewhere for reference, but what a job. No wonder there's so much attention paid to the dress.

Why didn't anyone get around to painting her earlier, I wonder? She was the second wife of the Prince of Moldavia, Dimitrie Cantemir, though not for very long - he died in 1723. Her brother Ivan Betskoy was Catherine II's national education advisor. Not much else at all is known about her.

1961: you're gonna be a star

The lovely gang over at Everycat - our dear late Whicky Whuudler's home on the web - sent me a link to share. It's a BoingBoing post about Hollywood auditions for black cats,and it links to gobs of photos.
There's human celebs in there - Vincent Price, Peter Lorre - but it's all about that sexy sable star power, you better believe. Here you go (click on the words "Audition for a Black Cat").

here's a new take on vintage photo time

by permission of owner j mcdermott

No title or date on this hilarious vintage postcard, just the info: "Edition Max Kuntzli, Zurich 6."

an evening cat

thanks wikimedia commons PD:US (public domain)

"Die Katze Abendfrieden," Hans Thoma titled this etching in 1901: "Cat's peaceful evening." Thoma (German; 1839-1924) turned for inspiration to his home area in the Black Forest and local, closely observed details of nature. Stylistically he is supposed to have more in common with earlier German masters such as Cranach than with the movements of his own time. I haven't seen enough of his work to compare. Me, I just like the intimacy and warmth of this piece.

stop looking at me! what do you want?

not a great reproduction but thanks anyway wikimedia commons

Yes, this is not the crispest reproduction of Paul Gauguin's "Still Life with Cats" (1899), but I kept coming back to it today. Now what was so compelling? Was it the pleasant, chunky, Primitivist forms of the vase and the sleeping cat? Or the profusion of flowers? By the way, isn't that bouquet oddly delicate against everything else going on in here? But that wasn't it, and that wasn't it.

I know.

That cat in back with the thousand-yard stare. Where have I seen that before? Oh, wait, it's boring into the back of my head right now.

If you've never read much about Gauguin, Wikipedia isn't a bad place to start: here he is. This link has hundreds of good-quality images. I don't think I would have personally liked him much, but I do enjoy his work on an immediate level despite myself.

vintage dog photo time, up in mayfair

Gerry and Oliver (with some help from "the ape") over at Everycat drew my attention to an article in yesterday's Manchester Guardian. There I learned that collector Libby Hall has me solidly beat at the vintage-photo-time thing. A selection of her gathered dog images, ranging from the 1850s to the 1950s, is up the the Kennel Club Art Gallery in Mayfair, London. See the article/slideshow here. You'll find them all delightful.
Now should you be near the Kennel Club and want to see this for yourself, here's the Kennel Club website page on the exhibition.

little dog thwarts crime, around 1800

You need to read this story. Not just because it honors a clever, brave little dog saving his mistress from harm, but because quite frankly his mistress is badass. She gets a reward from the government for finding a cure to the "stone" (probably kidney stones), AND when threatened she coolly grabs her pair of pistols and defends herself.

* * *
ANECDOTE XXXIII.
A Few years since, a lady, by the name of Osborn, who lived a few miles out of town, came to London to receive a large sum of money, granted her by parliament, for discovering a cure for the stone. She received the money, and returned back with it in her own carriage to the country, without any thing particular happening on the road. It was evening when she arrived, and being fatigued with her journeys she proposed retiring early to rest.
On her stepping into bed, she was much surprised at the uneasiness of her little Dog, who always slept in the chamber with her. He kept pulling the clothes repeatedly. Mrs. Osborn then chid him, and desired him to lie still, that she might go to sleep. The Dog still persisting in his efforts, kept pulling the bed-clothes, and at length jumped on the bed, and endeavoured, with great avidity, to pull them off.
Mrs. Osborn then conceiving something very extraordinary must occasion the Dog's uneasiness, immediately jumped out of bed, and being a very courageous woman, flipped on her under petticoat, and placed a brace of pistols (which were always in a closet adjoining), at her side, and boldly went down stairs. She had not proceeded far, when looking around, she perceived the coachman coming down another pair of stairs, quite dressed—with great presence of mind she pointed one of the pistols, threatened him with instant death, unless he directly returned to his bed. She then proceeded to the back parlour, when, on hearing a distant murmuring kind of noise, she advanced to the window, and fired in the direction from whence the noise came. All was then immediately silent, and nothing further transpired that night.
The next morning she traced blood through her garden to a considerable distance: and not thinking it prudent to keep so large a sum any longer in the house, ordered her carriage, and drove to town with the utmost expedition; and after depositing her property, went to Sir John Fielding, and related the whole of the circumstance to him, who after applauding her singular courage, advised her to part with the coachman directly, and he. would endeavour to investigate the matter minutely, and punish the offending parties according to their deserts.
Thus was robbery, and murder, most likely, prevented by the instinct of this faithful little animal.
* * *
- From Joseph Taylor, The general character of the dog: illustrated by a variety of original and interesting anecdotes (London: Darton and Harvey, 1804) pps. 81-83.

the 8 characters of the dog

Words on that sacred creature we call dog, from the Zoroastrian scripture the Zend-Avesta:
* **
A dog has the characters of eight different sorts of people:--
He has the character of a priest,
He has the character of a warrior,
He has the character of a husbandman,
He has the character of a strolling singer,
He has the character of a thief,
He has the character of a wild beast,
He has the character of a courtezan,
He has the character of a child.
He eats broken food, like a priest; he is grateful, like a priest; he is easily satisfied, like a priest; he wants only a small piece of bread, like a priest; in these things he is like unto a priest.
He marches in front, like a warrior; he fights for the beneficent cow, like a warrior; he goes first out of the house, like a warrior; in these things he is like unto a warrior.
He is watchful and sleeps lightly, like a husbandman; he goes first out of the house, like a husbandman; he returns last into the house, like a husbandman; in these things he is like unto a husbandman.
He sings like a strolling singer; he is intrusive, like a strolling singer; he is meagre, like a strolling singer; he is poor, like a strolling singer; in these things he is like unto a strolling singer.
He likes darkness, like a thief; he prowls about in darkness, like a thief; he is a shameless eater, like a thief; he is an unfaithful keeper, like a thief; in these things he is like unto a thief.
He likes darkness, like a wild beast; he prowls about in darkness, like a wild beast; he is a shameless eater, like a wild beast; he is an unfaithful keeper, like a wild beast; in these things he is like unto a wild beast.
He sings, like a courtezan; he is intrusive, like a courtezan; he walks about the roads, like a courtezan; he is meagre, like a courtezan; he is poor, like a courtezan; in these things he is like unto a courtezan.
He likes sleeping, like a child; he is apt to run away, like a child; he is full of tongue, like a child; he goes on all fours, like a child; in these things he is like unto a child.
***
Found in James Darmeister's 1898 translation of the Zend-Avesta for The Christian Literature Company.

vintage photo time

gift of robin & finchy's mom & dad

A little dog in a lot of dry autumn leaves, found somewhere in Astoria OR (the photo, not necessarily the dog).

my friend's kindle book is now published: or, why i've been gone a lot

Yes, this is the project that's been taking up a lot of my posting/commenting time. My friend Wilbert "Bill" Heinz has made one of his dreams come true: he has published a collection of his memoirs on Amazon Kindle. Not too bad for a lad of 93. I helped a bit, but this is all him: his life, his stories, his voice. By the way, it's named after his beloved dog Nola: she passed on about 2 months ago, and he really wanted to have her name on his special book.
Is it worth reading? You bet it is. He was born in 1919 in upstate NY, shortly after his father was killed in WWI. He lost his mother at age 6, and was tenderly raised by his maiden aunt Lena, a schoolteacher. Did that make him downcast? No! He lived (and lives) his life with curiosity and verve, and his stories are a series of glimpses at ways of life that were pretty great, but are gone. Included is his history of his grandfather’s time as a soldier in the Civil War, taken from the diaries he inherited. Bonus! And all this for $0.99. It's right here.
Don’t have a Kindle? You can read it on your Kindlefriendly smartphones (Android, etc). Don’t have that? The Kindle-for-PC app lets you read Kindle books on your PC and downloads in less than 3 minutes.
Thanks for reading, Museum friends!

cat on a midcentury chair

copyright and by kindest permission of the artist

Midcentury: clean, simple design for the shiny progressive future (in the 1950's and 60's, that is). The streamlined comfort of a bold, busy new era. So: Perfect for cats, who are nothing if not streamlined comfort personified. And that's why I had to bring you this "Cat on a midcentury chair" by the Australian artist olive dear: when I saw this I laughed aloud with the sheer excellence of the pairing.
When I asked her, olive dear wrote: "I've had the pleasure of sharing my life with two lovely cats, and the cat in this painting actually looks a lot like a combination of the two - the big eyes of one, and the colouring and pose of the other." And if you go on over to olivedear.com and look around, you just might find the other cat rocking more atomic age seating.

lisa zador and a mathematical cat

image copyright and by kindest permission of Lisa Zador

You knew it. You knew there was a reason why your cat keeps examining you with that analytical look in her eyes. Why she always lands on her feet. How she can leap up and do a triple lindy in midair after that pesky fly and never miss a step. Well, Manhattan artist Lisa Zador has painted it all for you. Here's her "Portrait of a Mathematical Cat," just one of a world full of clever creatures. You can meet them all at her perfectly named Etsy shop, Curious Portraits.

Of this particular portrait Lisa writes, "This is a portrait of Atticus, a genius among cats. Always obsessed with mathematical logic as a youngster he went on to become one of the leading cats in his field."*

Lisa herself is an artist and animal lover living and working as an illustrator / textile designer in New York for over 20 years. Originally from Philadelphia, she now shares her home in Manhattan’s West Village with her dog Bingo. Her first dog Toby was the inspiration for her portraits of dogs and cats. He became the subject of many Christmas cards over the years, which eventually led to having 2 books of animal portraits published by Stewart, Tabori and Chang in 2001: The Well Bred Dog and The Well Bred Cat.

also copyright and kindest permission of lisa zador

This is Lisa's portrait of Rosie, the unexpected Chihuahua, who came to live with Lisa and Bingo after her "mom" passed away. Though she has some health challenges and is now pretty much blind, she's still alive and kicking! Animals are great that way. Bless you, Rosie!

More on Lisa: she's nothing if not nostalgic, and you can feel her fondness for good things and days gone by in her work. "I feel that everyday objects close to our hearts have their own noble beauty just because they mean so much to us," Lisa says. "I try to bring out their unique qualities and a little of the personalities I see in their faces. Seeing them come to life on the canvas is always a magical moment for me! I work in oil on either canvas or wood panel in a traditional technique called grisaille. This just means that I begin with an under-painting using sepia and white and then build the color up through a series of subsequent glazes. I believe this technique gives the paintings a special inner glow and depth."

And it certainly does. You'll find something to love both at her Etsy shop and at her website Lisa Zador. She does a particularly fine squirrel, I'll tell you.

*He's also featured in The Well Bred Cat (available at Amazon.com), written by James Waller.

whicky whuudler esq.

Museum friends, I've just discovered over at Everycat that Whicky Whuudler left us yesterday July 5th. Read the post here.

Whicky Whuudler was one of the Museum's oldest and best blogfriends, and was kind enough to have an interview with us (you long time readers will recall). He was not just a cat but an institution, pretty much, and I hope you'll join with me in sending his family every caring thought.

That's the problem with pet blogging...they pass into history all too soon. Knowing Whicky was worth it.

kitty in a spring garden

image copyright by and with kindest permission of artist elly chen 2011

Last week, during yet another stretch of gray, wet, unseasonable weather, I found this work by freelance illustrator Elly Chen and. . . it gave me hope. It felt kind of Fauvist around the edges, like a Matisse remix, and the way the white cat's fur has been picked out in pink is just luscious.

Elly's based in Taipei and went to the USC School of Design. Her art degree was in illustration, she writes, and adds: "I love colors. Now I'm doing my first picture book.....I also want to have my own child(ren's) book. Hope I can bring lots of colors and fun to everyone!" I hope she can, too, so you should look at her blog (specially her kitties), her website, and make a trip to her Etsy shop.

Happy Tuesday-after-long-weekend, everyone!

(anti)social philosophy of the hamster

The dwelling of the hamster, says an imaginative writer, is the perfect image of the social household and the cordial understanding of civilized married couples. The male and female at first get along harmoniously in pillaging the public in general, discord, as in civilization, only coming at the moment of dividing the spoils.
The male, delighted to use the labor of his wife in filling the storehouse, the moment winter sets in, attempts to drive her from the conjugal abode. Obliged to run before superior strength, she appears to leave forever, but digs a sideway, and thus enjoys the treasure.
So far the practice is too true of many latitudes, but the fanciful theorist locates his ideas and himself in France, when he adds, "The female does more, she obtains the assistance of a comrade, and the two, profiting by the torpor of the gorged husband inside, strangle and eat him, and thus set up housekeeping over his remains."
The Archbishop of Mayence, so says an old German legend, bought up all the corn of the surrounding country, and stored it in his castle, situated upon one of the many beautiful islands in the Rhine. The famine he thus occasioned extended not only to the human inhabitants, but reached the greedy hamsters. Scenting the treasure of the wicked bishop afar off, they joined together in great multitudes, swam across to his palace, and in one night devoured him from off the face of the earth.

-- I never knew hamsters were such devious operators. From an article on the rodentia species titled "The Gnawers," Harper's Magazine (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1856) vol. 12, pp.756-63.