I think he is the cutest dog in art. He sits there, fluffy and full of expression, eyes fixed on his master, almost audibly asking, "When are we going for a walk?" Unfortunately, his master seems distracted and not even conscious of his faithful pet, looking at him so beseechingly.
Vittore Carppacio, The Vision of St Augustine, 1502, fresco, Scuola di San Giorgio degli Schiavoni, Venice |
There has been some debate as to
his pedigree. Ruskin had a Spitz and
thought that St Augustine’s pet was exactly like him, whereas, others have
suggested he is more like a spaniel or a Maltese puppy [1]. I actually would tend to
agree with Ruskin on this one.
Spitz puppy |
Maltese Puppy |
In a way, it doesn’t matter what
type of dog he is. For me, he adds so much to this interior study scene, that
if he was absent it would have a completely different feel. He brings a sense
of life into what is essentially a ‘still’ life. There are books: open and closed, old and
new, books in cupboards, books on shelves, books on the floor. There are astralobes, candlesticks, censors, statuettes,
hats, desks, pots, chairs and shells, all intricately described.
Yes, I know there is also a man
at a desk, but he is as motionless as the items around him. The vision he has seen through the window of
the dead St Jerome, has spellbound him into absolute stillness. He gazes, entranced, pen suspended for ever
above the letter he is writing; time stands still…waiting.
And so does the dog, waiting for
that walk perhaps. He waits in such an
avid way, his nose in the air, almost twitching with supressed excitement at
the thought of getting out of this quiet space and into the outside world.
The question, “why is he here?” is
an obvious one, but one well worth asking. Dogs almost always appear in art as
symbols of watchfulness and fidelity [2]
and certainly here, Carpaccio's 'perky little white dog' [3] looks the picture of faithfulness
as he waits patiently for that walk which will never come and gazes adoringly
at his master.
Alternatively, is he here to show the artist’s ability in painting dogs? Carpaccio seems not to have had much artistic success with domestic cats, as can be seen in the British Museum’s preparatory drawing for this canvas.
Carpaccio, Vision of St Augustine, c.1501-8, pen and brown ink, with grey wash, over leadpoint on paper, British Museum, London |
This study, drawn in pen and brown
ink with a grey wash, includes, instead of our fluffy white dog, an unusual and
not very convincing cat. Cats were symbols of laziness and lust [4], a rather inappropriate animal to be associated with such an industrious saint as Augustine. In fact, to me
it looks more like an overgrown mouse, and some have suggested that it is more
likely to be a weasel or ermine [5]. Perhaps the artist realised that this odd
looking animal brought nothing to the scene, or perhaps the confraternity of
the Schiavoni, who commissioned the canvas saw the drawing and asked for it to
be replaced with something more fitting.
I would argue, however, that the
key to the dog’s inclusion is the way he draws our eye, firstly to himself and
then through his avid gaze, to the man at the desk. The title of the work is The Vision of St Augustine, but we see nothing of this vision; it
is all outside the window or inside St Augustine’s head. Our attention is only drawn to what has captured
the mind of the saint, by the steady, constant attention of his faithful pet.
Whatever the reason for his inclusion,
whether for symbolic reasons, artistic prowess, the patron’s whim or compositional tool, I will be
always grateful that Carpaccio decided to paint this little white dog.
Alison Barker
Next Time: Have you seen…the shimmering one?
[1] Morris J, Ciao, Carpaccio! An Infatuation, Pallas Athene, London, 2014, p.59
[2] Ferguson G, Signs and Symbols in Christian Art, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1954 (1st ed), 1961, p.15
[3] Morris J, Ciao, Carpaccio! An Infatuation, Pallas Athene, London, 2014, p.140
[4] Ferguson G, Signs
and Symbols in Christian Art, Oxford University Press, Oxford, 1954 (1st
ed), 1961, p.14