Reviewed by Patricia Simms-Reeve
It is a touching reminder of the significance of the dog in artists’, and countless others, lives that the 2026 Sulman Prize has recently been awarded for a portrait of a rescue greyhound, Toulah, one of the winning artist’s seven beloved greyhounds…. She sits elegantly at ease on a chintz covered chair, nicely blending with the fabric.
In his book on dogs in Australian art, Steven Miller has sourced an impressive number from early First Nations and white settlers to the current day. The range of styles and depiction of life not only is remarkable but traces the changing history of the dog in its relation to its master or family over the ensuing years.
The exotic breeds are absent in those early days. They are lean and built for hard work and companionship. Their lives are rough, spent outdoors hovering around for food and warmth of a campfire. In Duterreau’s depiction of first encounter with natives, they are more astounded by the presence of two well fed hounds than of the French sailor in his strange attire.
Later in the nineteenth century there are many familiar portraits of man and dog. Russell Drysdale’s ‘Man Feeding his Dogs’, the three figures thin and stick-like, shows a world that is harsh and a struggle to survive. There is an unmistakable poignant note to the dog standing by a pair of legs supine on the ground with no further part of the man visible.
Many of the iconic Australian artists appear. Albert Tucker, Arthur Streeton, Rupert Bunny, William Dobell and William Robinson and his pugs, one of my sentimental favourites. Arthur Boyd’s ‘Caged Lovers’ is a gruelling choice with the trapped pair being accompanied outside their prison by a muzzled barking dog.
Like many fascinating artworks, these paintings of dogs offer more than a mere photographic representation. Some are humorous, many almost human in the expressiveness in their eyes. One that falls within both criteria is Braithwaite’s ‘The Ancestors’. It is a subtle reference to the family portrait and the love of displaying such, sometimes receding through the centuries. The three dogs have distinctive expressions reminiscent of an aristocrat and his descendants.
Be it the savage humour of ‘The Debate’, the woebegone eyes of the Boston Terrier, the ecstasy of the dog airborne to retrieve a ball or the cheeky dog surfing Hokusai’s wave, in ‘Michael and I are Just Slipping Down to the Pub For a Minute’, there are over two hundred different reasons to contemplate the importance of the dog and to appreciate these beautifully illustrated pages.
Most the dogs in the book are by Australian artists. However, Steven Miller combed the major art galleries and some private collections in order to assemble this marvelously extensive group of animals. He has chosen ones that appear as faithful companions and symbols of loyalty and protection, without neglecting working dogs and partners in the sporting field.
A very interesting feature is that this is not merely a fine pictorial tribute to the most cherished of domestic animals, but the text also offers a detailed insight into the background of artist and subject. This makes it a delightful addition to a personal library given that a vast percentage of our world delights in the friendship of a good dog. Jane Goodall, the renowned biologist and animal behaviourist, firmly maintained that dogs took priority in the friendship hierarchy, humans included.
This excellent book gives sound evidence of this. Many dogs within its covers have the eyes of devotion which rarely fails to win hearts.
Dogs in Australian Art
[2016]
by Steven Miller
Wakefield Press
ISBN: 978 1 7430 5408 6
$39.95; 212pp