Usually, an idea for each upcoming blog post surfaces well before I begin writing. But this week I’ve been at a loss. After a number of false starts, I was sitting here at my computer wondering what in the world to write when I started to tune into the soft and steady breathing from under my desk.

Under the Desk

And simple as that, this post was born. Quinn’s gentle snoring nudged me into remembering a recent article about a new exhibition that has just opened at the Wallace Collection in London, “Portraits of Dogs: From Gainsborough to Hockney” .

Amos, 1976 by Andy Warhol ©Andy Warhol

My chances of getting to see the show in person are slim. So in lieu of heading to the UK, I pulled out a couple of books that center on dogs in art and had a bit of an at-home exhibition of my own.

The Book of Dog, by Angus Hyland & Kendra Wilson

The first, The Book of Dog, is a compendium of varied works spanning centuries, curated with a contemporary eye. The other, We Think the World of You is a series of sensitive pencil drawings enhanced with minimal washes of color by David Remfry. Although quite spare, his pieces convey the depth of the unique bond between individual dogs and owners.

All Curled Up ©2023 Elizabeth Fram, Watercolor and graphite on paper, 5.5″H x 5″W I couldn’t resist painting my own trusty studio assistant, with a heathy dose of gratitude to her for helping me figure out what to write this week. For more examples of her tolerant modeling, check out the Ruby, Lola & Quinn section of my website.

In snooping around a bit more online to see what else I could learn about the Wallace Collection show, I came across this searing review. Honestly, it is so outspokenly negative it made me chuckle. As they say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

This photo is from an invitation to an exhibition at the Museum Boijmans Van Beuningen in Rottredam, 1995.

A dog portrait may not be to everyone’s taste, but for those who are of like mind, here’s to our beloved canine pals – in art and in general. And an added three cheers for the sweet sense of connection that comes in knowing that such greats as Leonardo da Vinci, Andy Warhol and David Hockney also found inspiration in portraying their pets. In Hockney’s case, the portraits of his dachshunds even offered an avenue toward moving through grief after the death of a close friend.
From a more workaday perspective though, I’ll bet each famous master (pun intended) welcomed the break that painting a pooch provided from the demands of finicky human patrons.

Before I began my journey with shibori, arriving at the point of personally dyeing all the silk used in my work, I regularly visited fabric stores to restock my palette. Rarely was I looking for anything in particular. Rather, I would just choose whatever “spoke” to me at the time, knowing at some point each selection would be just the right thing to fill some gap in a future piece.

Unwrapping my spoils after these outings, it was always amusing to see how beautifully those random choices worked together — often in unexpectedly delightful ways — despite the fact that there was no intent to ever use them side-by-side.

The Brugge coat of arms on the City Hall. The golden lion represents Belgium, the brown Bear represents the city of Brugge. The shield is the flag of Flanders.

In many ways, the images I capture when we travel have the same effect. Subconsciously, a theme of sorts will invariably surface. I’ve learned that once I become aware of what that subject may be, it lends a new sense of attention overall and, to some degree, the flavor of a scavenger hunt to the rest of the trip.

Our recent journey to Belgium was no exception. The fine craftsmanship and acute eye for detail, hallmarks of the country’s aesthetic throughout the centuries, made for a visual feast. What follows is a categorized sampling of the intricacies that caught my eye.

Lace
Although we didn’t make it to the Lace Museum, it was fun to see the influence of lace in unexpected places.

This example of a loosely woven bag metamorphosizing into lace intrigued me for it’s modern take on the medium, as well as its unusual colors.

There isn’t a much more iconic site in the Flemish world than a windmill. But in this instance I was more interested in the fence. Zoom in and look closely to see the lace pattern woven among the chain links.

There was a wonderful, life-size, hand-carved wooden sculpture of a quartet at the Musical Instrument Museum in Brussels. But it was the violinist that caught my eye.

Look closely

Lace!

Chocolate
With a shop on virtually every corner, we did our fair share of sampling. Some of the creations seemed almost too pretty to eat, but we got over that silliness in no time.

There is something for every interest…

Death by chocolate never looked as sweet

Even the boxed chocolates were like jewels. These are from Pierre Marcolini

The chocolates made by Galler were among my favorites, if there could be such a thing. I never had a chance to go back to ask about this architectural detail above their window. It looks old, but maybe not? There is definitely something on her tongue, but from the look on her face, it couldn’t possibly be a Galler chocolate — unless she just realized it’s the last one.

Dogs
It didn’t take long for the pooch-lover in me to notice that dogs are a valued part of the Belgian family, both now and in the past. We saw plenty of the live version out and about with their owners — in shops, restaurants, and generally on the streets. But I was also delighted to notice that they are well represented in museums, government buildings, and in advertisements.

Lush fabrics and a pampered pet in a Biblical allegorical painting

Housed upstairs in the Museum Arentshuis are the paintings and drawings of artist Frank Brangwyn. His drawings were particularly lovely. Note that he didn’t neglect the two dogs that joined the festivities in this quick sketch of the opening of the Brangwyn Museum (now Museum Arentshuis) in 1936.

Brugge’s Stadhuis (City Hall) is spectacular. Its vaulted Gothic Hall is a masterpiece of intricate architectural carvings and 19th century murals. The murals painted around the perimeter of the cavernous room by Albrecht De Vriendt depict the history of Brugge and Flanders, but not without the appearance of several Great Danes, as seen in the center foreground of this example.

A dog caps the tower atop the Damme town hall

I guess it’s never been unusual for dogs to accompany their owners to shops, as shown in this larger-than-life relief advertising shoe repair, carved by Antoine Vriens c.1935.

Frank Brangwyn’s painting The Afflicted Ones from 1923 demonstrates it isn’t only humans who suffer during difficult times.

Having lived with and loved two Greater Swiss Mountain dogs, it was a treat to find this Swissie hiding under the table in a painting at the Musées royaux des Beaux-Arts in Brussels.

And, to bring this to a close, what dog could be more Belgian than Tintin’s companion Snowy?

The next time you travel, consider finding some sort of “theme” to be on the lookout for. It’s remarkable what you’ll discover that you might not otherwise have noticed.
With that in mind, I have to chuckle at this caution from publisher and author William Feather (1889-1981)… “Beware the person who won’t be bothered with details.”

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I recently discovered James Clear’s (author of Atomic Habits) 3-2-1 Thursday newsletter which consists of 3 ideas, 2 quotes, and 1 question. It’s food for thought that makes the week a bit richer.

Elizabeth Fram

Eye of the Needle

Tag Archives: Dogs

Gone to the Dogs

Art is in the Details

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