cat basket

Copyright © 2000–2018 The Athenaeum (PD)

That's the title: "Cat Basket." (Also known as "Study of Cats III," but everyone seems to prefer the other.)  This delicious Franz Marc from 1909 shows a free gusto in the strokes used for the cats' fur.  Don't those cats look plush and twitchy, as though they'll bounce up and out at any second?  Perhaps he was painting quickly in case they did. 

chicken of peace

thanks wikimedia commons (PD)

"Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!" That's the King James version of the German verse above, Psalm 133:1.  This painted window, part of a larger one featuring the reforming theologian Johannes Brenz,  is found at the Evangelical Lutheran church of Ravensburg, Germany.  The church has a page (in German only, alas) on its history.  I've been looking for any specific tie between this verse and the hen with her egg, and the best I can do is suggest that just as the hen shelters her egg, so may we all shelter under divine protection together.  The window dates from the 19th century and seems to have been designed by Gustav Konig.

the dachshund museum

detail from a photo in the museum collection

Did you already hear about the new dachshund museum in Germany?  (Probably from the Smithsonian article?)  The Smithsonian does not provide a link to the website, but that's why you have me:  Dachshund Museum.  I've sent you to the English version of the site, but it hasn't been completely translated.  FYI.

cat tree

thanks wetreesinart.tumblr.com  believed PD in good faith

A Franz Marc I haven't seen?  And a ravishingly beautiful cat one at that?  My morning's off to a great start already.  When I found this 1910-11 oil today its name was given as "Chat derriere un arbre."  My limited French was taxed, for when I was growing up a derriere was a very polite word for a person's bottom.  Hey presto, a run through Google translation tells me this is a Cat Behind a Tree.  So it is.
According to this page at franzmarc.com, Cat Behind A Tree was also called "Children's Picture," and was in the Hanover Museum till 2009, when it was returned to the family of its original owner.  Also noted is the unusual composition: the cat, the logical focus of the painting, is partially obscured behind the thick blue (masculine color) tree, sleeping cozily in a yellow (feminine) field.  A play between shelter and support?  With Marc, that's possible - and here, I have to say it again, delectable.

dog of state, germany 19th c

Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=129560

In which we learn of the great German stateman Otto von Bismarck's series of loyal, forbidding sidekicks, all named Tyras. . . 

As far back as Alcibiades, four-footed and other animals have played a conspicuous part in the world, and deserve their popularity, having done on the whole less harm, and shown more sterling qualities than the celebrities with whom they were associated; on that plea alone, dumb creatures have a right to a place in contemporary reminiscences.The more modern prototypes of historical quadrupeds have thrown into the shade their ancient predecessors: the horse of Caligula; the dogs of Charlemagne sitting at his council; the greyhounds of Charles IX.; the falcons of Louis XIII.; the lapdog Fortune, which the Empress Josephine would have in her bed, to the intense displeasure of Napoleon; and the famous Moustache, the favourite of the Imperial Grenadiers of the Guard, who at Marengo slept in the Emperor's tent; and even Nero, who in a spirit of emulation was raised by Napoleon III. to the rank of first favourite at Compiegne, where he was petted and caressed as such by the ladies of the Court. Their claims to notoriety pale before the importance of Tyras, the now historical hound of Prince Bismarck, who has been called "a dog of State;" he is a power and a character, fully imbued with his mission and fulfilling it conscientiously. Lying at length in the Chancellor's study in the Wilhelmstrasse, he follows, with the fierce look of his unflinching eyes, every movement, every gesture of his master's visitors; he is ever prepared to fight Socialists or Anarchists, and to make his teeth meet in the flesh of any suspicious individual approaching too near for what he considers the Prince's safety. Tyras has his own personal attendant, his special menu, and any number of courtiers, whom he treats with insolent contempt. Tyras has been known to die several times already, the press has given a pathetic account of the suppressed grief of the Chancellor at his loss; but the next day another huge mastiff from Ulm, as forbidding, ferocious, faithful, pampered and feared, the exact counterpart of his predecessor, is at his post, and the new Tyras is equally attached, equally beloved, and equally indispensable.

-- from Velde, M. S. van de. (1889). Cosmopolitan recollections (Vol. 2). London: Ward and Downey. 221-3.

"the spirit of the house" 1910

thanks http://www.the-athenaeum.org. PD

"Hello.  I notice you are looking at the table.  I think you should look at me. Hi. Right here."
Here we see the German artist August Macke (German, 1887-1914) in the tail end of his Post-Impressionist / Fauvist period, right before he becomes one of the powers within the great Expressionist Group "The Blue Rider (Die Blaue Reiter)."  Longtime Museum friends know of my love for his fellow Blue Rider, Franz Marc.
What's Post-Impressionist here?  It's the mix of naturalistic form with color that's realistic but pushed to the limit.  You look at this and say, Yes, the ceramicware and the cat look just like that.  But do they really?  Does your pitcher glow with such a purplish shine?  Are the orange patches on your cat that vibrant?  This piece is alive and full of spirit, with the color itself serving to say for Macke: "I had a good day in the studio today, I enjoyed myself, and my cat was very insistent and funny."

a snuffbox squirrel

the metropolitan museum of art - the jack and belle linsky collection, 1982

This porcelain treasure was designed and made at the Schrezheim factory in Schreizheim, Germany circa 1761-70.  The painter of this object, Johann Andreas Bechdolff, pops up reliably in searches for Schrezheim porcelain - here's a pug snuffbox he decorated.  He didn't only paint the tops of snuffboxes: at the Met page for this squirrel you can see the bottom and inside as well.  Why a critter on your powdered tobacco holder?  Think of it like a cell phone case: you personalize that with something you like, and carry it daily.  Same sort of thing.

affenpinscher

Hans Hoffmann, An Affenpinscher (detail), 1580, watercolor and gouache on vellum. Kasper Collection, New York.

I didn't know you could give an Affenpinscher a lion cut, but apparently in late 16thc Germany that was doable.  "Affenpinscher" is German for "monkey terrier."  The breed was developed there as a fast, cute little ratcatcher for the kitchens of the time, but even the most useful little dog will find its way into the laps of the fashionable if it's cute enough.

wordless vintage wednesday

from the museum collection. says on the back "germany 1958"

christian rohlfs - dogs

thanks wikiart.org.  (PD)

You know how you can never get a good photo of the puppies because they are constantly running around and you're laughing too hard?  That's how I feel when I look at this - but it's a Christian Rohlfs woodcut from 1925.

a town long on short dogs

Do you like dachshunds?  Do you really like them?  How about living around scads of them in a town famed for being the source of the low-slung breed?  Then get yourself over to Gergweis, Germany.  Gergweis is a little town a ways up from Salzburg which was for years famed as the dachshund world capital, though I notice its current Wikipedia page (in German) doesn't say a thing about that.  Luckily for us, British Pathé made a short film about the town and its dogs in 1957, using plenty of dry Brit humor and a strategically placed cat (to whom no harm comes, just so you know).  Go spend a minute in the land of dachshunds.

the life of a munich cat

This short passage describes Munich right after it became the capital of the short-lived Kingdom of Bavaria in 1806.  I'm surprised that court life there was that vapid, because the king at the time, Maximilian I Joseph, sounds as if he were a decent sort of man.  Courts are always weird and artificial, though, I think.

* * *
. . . The manners of the inhabitants of Munich are such as might be expected from forty thousand people who depend on the court, and for the most part go idle at its expense. Among the nobles there are instances of good breeding and politeness; but the people at large are eminent for inactivity, and a strange want of attachment to their country. Many of the court ladies know of no other employment than playing with their parrots, their dogs, and their cats. Some keep a hall full of cats, and several maids to attend them; they converse half their time with them, and serve them with coffee, &, dressing them according to their fancy differently every day.

* * *

Sir Richard Phillips, A General View of the Manners, Customs and Curiosities of Nations: Including a Geographical Description of the Earth, Volume 2 (1810: Johnson and Warner), pp. 139-40

a hunting scene on glass, 1593

Digital image courtesy of the Getty's Open Content Program.

When I think of how long glasses don't last in my house, I marvel afresh at the four centuries this beautiful German drinking vessel has been around.  Its information page at the Getty (be sure and look at the other side views too) offers a commentary from a 17th-c French visitor regarding the pride Germans took in their fine glasses. The page also explains the importance hunting held as a favorite activity (these days we may disagree), so much so that a type of this enameled glassware was named for it: Jagdhumpen, "hunt beaker."
You may imagine these were kept for the parties afterward.  Bringing them along on a tear through the woods isn't a good way to have them for long.  I'm sure someone must have tried.