Tales that Wag the
Dog
By Tom Wachunas
“If you pick up a
starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the
principle difference between a dog and a man.”
- Mark Twain –
“No one appreciates
the very special genius of your conversation as a dog does.” - Christopher
Morley-
EXHIBITION: Allegory
in Wood: James Mellick / at the Canton Museum of Art THROUGH OCTOBER 28/
1001 Market Avenue North, Canton, Ohio (330) 453 – 7666 / www.cantonart.org
One of the consequences of The Fall as
described in Genesis was that humanity’s relationship with nature became
terribly adversarial. We would thenceforth need to wrestle a reluctant, thorny
earth to extract the luscious fruits it once so freely offered in Eden.
Additionally, our originally harmonious stewardship of the animal kingdom
eventually morphed into mutual bloodletting.
Was it desperate
loneliness, hubris or guilt that made us reclaim part of that kingdom in the
form of our evolved and epic emotional connecting with the dog? Those who nurture that connection have crowned
the creature “man’s best friend” for the qualities and behaviors perhaps more
aptly assigned to us as we would
ideally prefer to see ourselves. We value our domesticated dogs for their
undying loyalty, unquestioning obedience, willingness to comfort and protect us,
eager dispensation of real affection – in short, for their unconditional love.
I often wonder if our sometimes too-obsessive
worship of dogs and their manifest character traits (which we essentially
engineered) isn’t some kind of moral transference on a societal
scale. It reminds me of the old joke about the dyslexic insomniac agnostic who
spends his nights thumbing through the Bible, looking for Dog.
Be that as it may,
the history of visual art (as well as music, dance, theatre and literature) is
replete with animals as metaphors for, or allegories of human affairs. For
Columbus-based artist James Mellick, a deep love of animals has been coupled
with lively storytelling in masterfully sculpted wood. In this exhibit, while there are some
remarkably elegant abstract works, Mellick’s world has largely gone to the
dogs, which he calls “the totem animals” of humankind.
His meticulously
constructed canines are somewhat like large versions of antique wooden
pull-toys with their anatomies cut into segments. This method of fashioning the
dogs’ bodies could itself be considered a symbolic representation of
multi-faceted, poetic narratives about human memories, behaviors, vexing
questions or circumstances. Stories with layers, or interconnected parts as in
a puzzle. Some of the stories (often
provided as written accompaniments to the sculptures) are poignant and
haunting, as in Ghost Dog, some
starkly riveting (Blown Away), some
wickedly whimsical or humorous (Darwin’s
Dog).
And even if these wooden allegories were so
arcane as to be completely indecipherable parables (which for the most part
they are not), they’re worth our time if only to marvel at their exquisite
workmanship and wondrous attention to stunning detail. Mellick doesn’t just
sculpt his forms “out of wood” in the subtractive sense so much as he seems to
lovingly caress them into being. Maybe it’s like coaxing an old best friend, as
it were, into showing us new tricks.
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