Wilber the English Bulldog

Most of us are familiar with one scene or another from our friend’s basement game room of dogs playing poker. The prints are likely knock-offs of a series of sixteen oil paintings by C. M. Coolidge commissioned in 1903 by Brown & Bigelow to advertise cigars. According to Wikipedia, the paintings “have become derisively well-known in the United States as examples of mainly working-class taste in home decoration.” In 2005, two of the original Coolidge paintings fetched more than half a million dollars at auction.

"A Friend in Need" by C. M. Coolidge. Photo: The New York Times

Clearly, in the 1900s artists of all types were drawing upon man’s best friend as subjects to convey pop culture, humor and politics of the day. (Note: it’s the bulldog smartly passing the card under the table with his toes above.) But when did this canine imagery begin?

I was surprised to find an entire exhibition on the subject by The Museum of Fine Arts, Houston called Best in Show: The Dog in Art from the Renaissance to Today. The museum features online slideshows and a great podcast interview with their Curator of European Art Dr. Peters Bowron.

Down through the centuries, other than the horse, perhaps dogs are the animal that has most widely been represented in every culture and practically every medium. And that’s the goal of this exhibition, to present the variety and above all the quality of images and affection and admiration with which the dog has been received by human beings. — Dr. Peters Bowron

What a fascinating way to look at social concerns in Western culture through the years. The MFAH exhibition depicts “the nobility and drama of the hounds of the hunt in Renaissance and Baroque art; the cozy domesticity of Dutch mutts and the pampered luxury of French Rococo and Impressionist lapdogs; the studied modernity of animals of the Machine Age and the febrile angst of Expressionism’s curs; the wit and irony of canine imagery in the eras of Pop, Postmodernism, and their aftermath…” George Stubbs, Andy Warhol and David Hockney all painted pups!

So what does our canine imagery say about us today? By looking at Jeff Koons’ twisty-balloon dogs or William Wegman’s photography of sometimes costumed Weimaraners, future generations might say we lean toward extravagance and eroticism. A few months ago, Michael Schaffer was interviewed on NPR’s Fresh Air about his new book One Nation Under Dog, documenting how the $43 billion industry “reflects our evolving ideas of consumerism, family, politics and domesticity.” Obviously, dogs are still man’s best friend. And now you know mine — his name is Wilber, and he would like to lick you.

Wilber as "Man's Best Friend"

(Wilber is currently contemplating a career in guerrilla marketing, life as the official ArtBabble.org mascot, or acting as an understudy to Butler University’s Blue II.)

I’ve always been at the mercy of this terrible, wonderful flick.  My dad took me to see it, on the first day of summer after my fourth grade year.  We were late; I think we came in during the “Summer Nights” number.  We both liked the visual geometry of the dances, the buoyant froth of the songs.

My friends and I started going in packs.  We saw it at the drive-in, the way it was meant to be seen.  We staged sock hops.  One 9-year-old dressed up like a version of Sandy in fishnet hose and a leotard and rode around the neighborhood on her banana seat bike.  Years later my friend made me this kitschy Grease mirror, a true piece of folk art:

Don’t get me started on the centrifugal force of Travolta’s hips as he snakes around the white car during “Greased Lightnin’.”  Or the carnival Shake Shack scene, where John and Olivia shimmy in black against a colorful planar backdrop worthy of Mondrian.  I’ve always loved sad Danny and the phallic hot dog scene.  And the strange appeal of Crater Face.

Just two years after Grease arrived, MTV was born, and the Spandex Revolution began.  Children of the 80’s will also find much to love about this year’s Summer Nights line up, which includes The Goonies and Ghostbusters.  The movie schedule was built around four categories we conceived: Stylish Danger (i.e. Gilda); Alternate Universes (Dr. Strangelove), Dark Humor (The Big Lebowski), and Mad Musicals (Rocky Horror).

We also paid close attention to what cartoon goes with what movie.  I’m particularly looking forward to Rabbit’s Kin (1957), starring Pete the Puma, an underappreciated Warner Bros. character.  Watch for Pete before This is Spinal Tap on June 20.

Leave me your raves and rants about Grease—or Summer Nights ’08.