Collies in art and culture

If your dog could talk, he would eagerly join in a conversation about Beauty. Dogs, as you may have noticed, do most things with great enthusiasm. As long as their owner is near. By the way, I’m lucky today: mine is right here, by my side. Comfortably settled on our couch. With his tongue out, he rustles through the pages of a picture book.

Like my owner, my name is Nicolas. But I am a long-haired collie with a pedigree, and he is a long-haired biped obsessed with dogs and everything connected with us. So today, instead of playing fetch with a ball outside like our neighbor with his dachshund, we’re about to have an art party.

But first things first. The book my owner is engrossed in is a catalog of dog art. Images of “man’s best friend,” captured in stone, on canvas, on book pages, and on film throughout history. I can’t really call myself a grateful spectator. This is not only my canine business.

Sergey Yesenin, To Kachalov’s Dog

Come on, Nicolas, throw the stick into eternal art, and I’ll bring it here, into our world, where my sly muzzle has long since stopped fitting into the classic canon!

So, here they are, the dog-images from the catalog.

Doesn’t it remind you of something? Right: circus acts with poodles standing on their hind legs. A drilled dog presented as a trophy, the apotheosis of its owner’s personal success. Among humans, walking on hind legs before a boss is not exactly praised. But the same trick performed by a trained dog in a circus arena earns thunderous applause. Such double standards. And not in our canine favor.

Having learned to tame the rebellious beast, humans quickly mastered the art of exploiting him for their own purposes. Sled dog, hunting dog, guard dog—the faceless, collective image of the servant-dog flickers in prehistoric rock paintings of Saudi Arabia, is immortalized in ancient Roman sculptures of greyhounds and mosaics of mastiff-like dogs, and sneaks into medieval tapestries.

Perhaps fearing a slave revolt, man the tamer kept reviving in collective memory the primordial growl of the fearsome beast. The enormous three-headed Cerberus of Greek mythology eternally guards the gates of the underworld. The giant hound of the Baskervilles, with glowing eyes and gaping jaws, terrifies both characters and readers of Arthur Conan Doyle’s detective novel.

Are fears exaggerated, or is there no smoke without fire? A leash alone is not enough for a dog to stay by your side for more than a command.

The fiery bond between sitters and their dogs, once filtered through the lens of art, often cooled into mere decorum.

In his own artificial, dog-free world, the Artist decides everything unilaterally. Thus Pablo Picasso, with a stroke of the brush, “erased” a little dog from Moulin de la Galette. Art experts claim the master thought the red-bow dog distracted attention from the painting’s main focus, so he painted over the animal, which had rightfully claimed a starring role. This hidden intention surfaced only during restoration work. In real life, Picasso’s beloved dachshund Lump was a bright presence, and the artist accepted him as such.

My suspicions about the hidden motives of accessory-minded artists were put into words by the satirist Jerome K. Jerome. Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog) is a roadshow of humor against the grain. Humans like to call relationships based on equality “friendship,” don’t they? Three against one—how’s that for equality? Can I really consider man a “friend” after reading such harsh words about Montmorency the fox terrier: “If he manages to get somewhere he is especially not wanted, to become a nuisance, to drive people to distraction, and to make them throw things at his head, he feels that he has not lived in vain.”

Incidentally, Jerome didn’t have a dog when he wrote the book. Aha! There’s the rub. But Galatea acted toward Pygmalion according to all the rules of high art: inspired by his own creation, the British humorist eventually acquired a fox terrier.

Do I understand correctly that the expression “our little brothers” refers to shoulder height? The breadth of our souls, it seems, is measured by grateful human memory and admiration.

Delicious, thanks. Now get me a “ticket to the movies.” A mobile art object will make a far greater impression on me than a frozen marble statue. Dogs, unlike their owners, are better at seeing what moves. In your world of Beauty, what’s missing for full happiness is a kennel. We perceive things differently, yes—but that doesn’t mean we should give up and tuck our tails, abandoning the search for common ground.

As I’ve noticed, zoo-optimism belongs mostly to children—or to those who’ve kept the child alive in their hearts. Only such people see in us more than “whiskers-paws-tail” with a faithful heart. The right to a voice and a position of our own was granted to the mutt Sharik in the Soviet cartoon Three from Prostokvashino (dog included!) and to the red cocker spaniel Billy in the modern French family (!) comedy Billy and Buddy.

It’s time for the human Artist, after talking so much ABOUT us, to finally talk WITH us. Just like the creators of Dogs in the Big City—a collaboration between Yandex Zen and Artyom Gebelev’s urban project The Dog’s City. The brilliant idea of generating content for four-legged viewers was realized in 2023 through violet-gray posters in popular Moscow locations. Humans interpreted the art messages through text, dogs—through specially chosen shapes, scents, and colors. Turns out you don’t need to travel to Spain to sniff and admire Jeff Koons’ floral Puppy sculpture in person.

By the way, if we’re not going for a walk, let’s make music. But I’ll choose the track. Dogs do care what they listen to. At the top of our chart—soft rock and reggae. Perfect stress relief. I’d lick your hand for this valuable discovery by University of Glasgow scientists. In 2017, the journal Physiology and Behavior published results showing changes in dogs’ heart rates while listening to different genres of music. Amazing that no dog radio station exists yet. We’d always be on the same wavelength.

The services of dog trainers, vets, and animal psychologists still don’t meet all the needs of man’s best friend. Like Bunin’s dog Chang, I still believe there exists some “third truth” between our parallel (for now!) worlds. Do you believe me?

If you do, then get off the couch. Let’s create together. I know where our art will be truly appreciated. I can’t wait to leave my pawtograph in the digital international art space of The Wall  Global, where art takes on a new dimension, and shoulder height doesn’t matter.