In the vast tapestry of art history, there exists a unique and captivating thread: the role of dogs in Western art. This is the intriguing subject that American cultural historian Thomas Laqueur delves into with passion and insight in his book, “The Dog’s Gaze.”
Laqueur’s exploration begins with a profound observation: dogs were the first animals to forge a companionable bond with humans. This simple fact, he argues, marks a significant boundary between nature and culture. It is this threshold that has granted dogs a symbolic role in art, one that goes beyond mere representation.
One of the most fascinating aspects of Laqueur’s analysis is his focus on the “dog’s gaze.” He identifies two primary scenarios where dogs engage in looking: either they peer deeper into the scene, trying to make sense of it, or they turn to look directly at the viewer, as if questioning or challenging their perception. This dual role of the dog as both observer and commentator is a powerful tool in the hands of artists.
Take, for instance, the sleepy mastiff in the bottom right corner of Velázquez’s “Las Meninas.” With its droopy-eyed glance out of the frame, the dog provides a sense of groundedness amidst the kerfuffle of courtly life. It seems to say, “You and I know which way is up,” a subtle reminder of the stability and reality beyond the artistic tricks of perspective.
What makes this particularly fascinating is the way Laqueur connects this to Picasso’s reinterpretation of the same masterpiece. In Picasso’s series, the mastiff is replaced by his beloved dachshund, Lump. Lump’s “brazen” gaze challenges the viewer to make sense of the Cubist universe, a universe that defies stable meaning. This playful exchange between artist, dog, and viewer is a testament to the power of art to engage and provoke.
Laqueur’s book is not just an exploration of art history; it is a thoughtful meditation on the role of art itself. By examining the dog’s gaze, he reveals how artists use this familiar figure to create a sense of connection and familiarity for viewers who might otherwise feel distant or overwhelmed. In Veronese’s “The Wedding Feast at Cana,” for example, the presence of six dogs, including a greedy little scruff interested in fallen scraps, invites the viewer to participate in the sacred scene, to see themselves reflected in the art.
This raises a deeper question: what does it mean for a work of art to invite such personal engagement? How does it change our relationship with the art, and by extension, with the world it represents? These are the kinds of thought-provoking insights that Laqueur’s book offers, making it a captivating read for anyone interested in the interplay of art, culture, and our shared human experience.
