amsterdam blep

www.rijksmuseum.nl (PD)
http://hdl.handle.net/10934/RM0001.COLLECT.111262

Longtime Museum friends know that I often wish books still included decorations like this: at the end or beginning of a chapter, perhaps, or at the bottom of the page because why not.  This particular one was etched sometime in the mid-1700's by Simon Fokke (Dutch, 1712-84), who made his living on tiny portraits and book vignettes.  Whomever commissioned this tiny treasure must have had a sense of humor, because when you look closely....

Blep!

Or whatever you personally call a happy stuck-out dog tongue.

in which alexander pope appreciates his dog

From a letter the poet Alexander Pope (1688-1744) wrote to a friend, identified as "H.C. Esq.":

...Now I talk of my Dog, that I may not treat of a worse subject which my spleen tempts me to, I will give you some account of him; a thing not wholly unprecedented since Montaigne (to whom I am but a Dog in comparison) has done the very same thing of his Cat. Dic mihi quid melius desidiosus agam? (This seems to mean something like "How can I do any better and I'm lazy anyway" - curator) You are to know then, that as 'tis Likeness that begets affection, so my favorite dog is a little one, a lean one, and none of the finest shap'd. He is not much a Spaniel in his fawning, but has (what might be worth any man's while to imitate from him) a dumb surly sort of kindness, that rather shows itself when he thinks me ill-used by others, than when we walk peaceably and quietly by ourselves. If it be the chief point of Friendship to comply with a friend's Motions and Inclinations, he possesses this in an eminent degree; he lies down when I sit, and walks when I walk, which is more than many good friends can pretend to...

-- from Letters of Mr Pope, and Several Eminent Persons, from the year 1705, to 1711, Vol. 1 London: Printed and sold by the booksellers of London and Westminster, 1735. pp. 112-3.

off the cuff

Drawing, Design for Embroidery, Gentleman's Waistcoat Pocket, ca. 1785;
Designed by Fabrique de Saint Ruf ; France; 18.4 × 31.3 cm (7 1/4 × 12 5/16 in.);
Gift of Eleanor and Sarah Hewitt; 1920-36-324 http://cprhw.tt/o/2BkT6/

France, 1785:  this could have been hand-embroidered on your waistcoat, and you could have enjoyed it for a season or two before you ordered one or two or six new fashion-forward garments.  Meanwhile, the political dynamic in France was shifting toward the Terror; in six years Louis XVI would be beheaded.  So much for your leisurely aristocratic days at the hunt, and for lushly decorated clothes, probably left behind when you bailed to England.

rat-choo

The Jack and Belle Linsky Collection, 1982
https://www.metmuseum.org

Because it's a snuffbox!  Get it?  (Groan.  Yes, I know.)
Not only is this Meissen porcelain snuffbox (Germany, c. 1745) gracefully made, but it has additional surprises inside and on the bottom.  Have a peek at the extra photos on its page at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

blending in, 1779

https://collections.artsmia.org, william hoood dunwoody fund  (public domain)

Gilbert Stuart (American, 1755-1838) is best known for this portrait of George Washington.  That work is only one among the 1,000-plus portraits he executed in his career (and he still managed to leave his family in poverty).  This work, "Portrait of James Ward," was done in London, where he worked from 1775 to 1787.  Since the posing here is very like those in court and nobility portraits by Van Dyck, I thought perhaps James Ward might be an aristocrat's son or someone of similar standing, but that remains unknown.

Look how his dog blends into the backing landscape.  I think perhaps he may be a poodle, one bred for the hunt, as poodles are superb waterfowl dogs.  Everything here is a muted, brownish shade until you get to the boy's dazzling face, hair, and framing collar.  You could be forgiven for thinking of the dog as window dressing, but Stuart has shown such a look of shining adoration on his face as he looks up at his boy.

rose is remembered (by byron's guardian)

From a collection of dog poetry dated 1912:  Here's Frederick Howard, the 5th Earl of Carlisle (1748-1825), with an epitaph for Rose, the family dog.
* * *
AN INSCRIPTION TO ROSE
WHOE’ER thou art whom chance shall hither lead,
O’er the green turf with friendly caution tread;
For in the bosom of this beechen shade
A lovely Favourite's bones in peace are laid.
She asks no pity, your compassion spare,
Soon your own woes may want the gushing tear.
Happy her life. She ne’er affliction knew,
Lov’d by her Mistress, to that Mistress true.

And, if Pythagoras hath truly taught,
That future joy by former merit’s bought,
She may perhaps, changed to the snowy dove,
Sleep in the bosom of the Queen of Love;
Or haply may her beauteous form retain
To scour with Dian's Nymphs the verdant plain.
But to her soul should perfect bliss be given
For virtues past, she asks no other Heaven,
Than here again midst flowery fields to rave,
And here again to share her Mistress’ love.

* * *
Bonus tidbit from the introduction to this poem:

The 5th Earl of Carlisle was Byron's guardian and uncle; to him the "Hours of Idleness" was dedicated “by his obliged ward and affectionate kinsman" and to him Byron afterwards referred:—
"What heterogeneous honours deck the peer!
Lord, rhymster [sic], petit maitre, and pamphleteer!"
-- Found in Parson, J. The Friendly Dog: an Anthology, London: K. Paul, Trench, Trübner & Co., 1912. 17-18.

dog badge

www.rijksmuseum.nl (PD)

Here's what amounts to a landscape in one piece of jewelry:  this silver badge at the Rijksmuseum, created circa 1784-87, shows a wolfy-looking keeshond in his front yard.  There's his house, his dish, his shady tree.  There's also a chain - but not on him!  Why does the chain lie upon the ground?  Is he free to go?  Was this a reward to someone faithful, or a statement of pride?  Here's the object's page at the Rijksmuseum.

grey spots, a blue sky

Yale Center for British Art, Paul Mellon Collection

"A Grey Spotted Hound" stands at proud attention with his prey, a bird draped open-beaked at his feet (ah, poor thing). This oil on panel portrait was created in 1738 by John Wootton (British, 1682-1764), in his time considered one of the best painters of sporting life.  In the 1720's he studied in Rome as Baroque art was entering its final years.  To me that explains the deep, warm color of the background, its long scope, and the clarity of this piece's details, and how this splendidly-coated fellow stands with such presence. 

this pug personifies monday

www.metmuseum.org (PD)
Lesley and Emma Sheafer , New York (until 1974; bequeathed to MMA)

This weekend I had a lovely overnight at Thornewood Castle.  Now it is Monday, and I think this Staffordshire ware pug from around 1720-40 encapsulates my feelings better than I can myself. 

gainsborough's dogs

british librry flickr

In the following anecdote, the painter Thomas Gainsborough (1727-88) and his wife Margaret use the family dogs as intermediaries when domestic quarrels arise.  I could wish Margaret's spaniel had spoken up less submissively, but (sigh) we are talking about 18th-century England.
***
GAINSBOROUGH AND HIS WIFE AND THEIR DOGS.

Thomas Gainsborough, the rival of Sir Joshua in portraiture, wanted that evenness of temper which the President of the Royal Academy so abundantly possessed. He was easily angered, but as soon appeased, and says his biographer, "If he was the first to offend, he was the first to atone. Whenever he spoke crossly to his wife, a remarkably sweet-tempered woman, he would write a note of repentance, sign it with the name of his favourite dog 'Fox' and address it to his Margaret's pet spaniel, 'Tristram.' Fox would take the note in his mouth, and duly deliver it to Tristram. Margaret would then answer 'My own dear Fox, you are always loving and good, and I am a naughty little female ever to worry you, as I too often do, so we will kiss and say no more about it; your own affectionate Tris.'" The writers of such a correspondence could not have led what is called "a cat and dog life." Husbands and wives might derive a hint from this anecdote; for we know, from the old ballad, that they will be sulky and quarrel at times even about getting "Up to bar the door!"

***

From a collection of animal anecdotes with a name I find pretty funny:

White, Adam, 1817-1879. Heads And Tales, Or, Anecdotes And Stories of Quadrupeds And Other Beasts Chiefly Connected With Incidents In the Histories of More Or Less Distinguished Men. London: J. Nisbet, 1870. pp. 100-101.

cat of liberty

http://catalogue.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb40295786c  (PD) c. 1777-1824

That's what the caption to this intense feline portrait says: "Chat de la liberte," adding "D'apres nature" (from life).  Why does this cat embody liberty?  It seems only Jean-Jacques Lequeu, its illustrator, knew.  Lequeu was an architect and draughtsman in the days leading up to the French Revolution, specializing in visionary, impractical, even eccentric building plans.  He also created a number of more domestic drawings, such as the one above (and a number of pornographic ones).
Lequeu, I think, was one of those people who lives keenly for a particular time and place, and never quite recalibrates afterward.  Post-Revolution, he became a civil servant instead of an architect.