Dogs, and the Pursuit of Art.

I feel I must speak out at the outrageous state of “art” in this country.  Really.  Writhing about in a glass box in the middle of MoMA is not art, (Sorry Tilda, big fan, btw, but really? Just, no).  Why?  It isn’t even original (#SnowWhite for Dog’s sake). 

Anyway, we canines do brilliant, abstract, and thoughtful works of art every single day.  Do we get any credit?  Nope.  Do we get scorned, scolded.  Absolutely. 

So today, I’d like to share with you some of my favorite works. 

This one I call HOLE.

Let me explain.  It’s in Dan’s yard, (Sorry, Dan, but hey, it the name of art my man!).  There is something so irresistible about Dan’s yard, for loads of things, like the very cool animal smells, deer droppings. It also has a fairly large creep factor with Macy barking from behind the walls of the house, which adds tremendously to its appeal.  But, by far and away, my favorite thing in Dan’s yard is his dirt. Thus, my first work, HOLE. 

This hole.  I dig it because I cannot not dig it. 

But this hole isn’t just any hole.  This is my opus.  This hole represents some of my best work.  

I’m only like, five months old, so give me a break.  I’ve got a lot of creativity inside this big head of mine.  And bigger paws.  HA!

This hole is art to me, as it represents the struggle that we find ourselves in now: man/dog vs. nature.  It is symmetrical, and natural, and organic and it smells like dirt.  And I love it.  And I will continue to dig it. Even if it continues to be filled in by Dan. 

This hole must be dug.  It compels me.  It is my Siren.  It is I.  And I am it.  Wait. I think that's Dan's truck.  Gotta go.  

"SHREDDED"

I know, right?  Doesn't it just speak to you?  Sigh, youth today.  

Now, this piece, well, let’s just say this piece came to me spur of the moment (Thanks for leaving the roll of paper towel out after Hellen threw up, dad.  Special shout out to Hellen for vomiting.  I love a good team effort!  I can’t create this stuff in a vacuum after all!) 

Anywho, I saw the paper towel that mom said was carelessly left within my reach as she was talking with dad (what does careless mean btw?)  and I grabbed it. Carpe Diem, and all that.

 I thought about the state of the world, our country and the disassociation that many young people feel today, even though they are connected by electronic devices that begin with a small “i.”  

I got to thinking how I could represent a generation of connected yet separate parts.  So yeah.  I just started to shred.  And I shredded that paper towel.  Quite brill if I do say so myself.  But mom says I should have asked first….there is just no appreciation for the artist and his art these days.

Did DaVinci have to ask  his mom first before he exhumed corpses?

Did Picasso ask for blue paint?

Just saying.

Finally, mom took this one, ( I know, mundane, right?  But she types faster and insisted, plus, thumbs and all…) We call this collaboration “SLEEPY WITH BONE AND FUZZYMAN.” 

Mom likes it but frankly, I think we can do better.  That’s it for now.   I'm expecting a call from the Venice Biennalle.  Ciao Ciao.