Stack of Spines

I am a dog lover.  I love all kinds, but am a self-confessed and slightly biased Weimaraner lover because I have two of my own.  Which kind are those?  The bird dogs with the eyelash-like fur, soft floppy ears, cropped tails (usually), deep chests and ridiculous human personalities.

William Wegman, the photographer famous for his shots with dressed up pups, had an exhibit in town a while back.  We trekked out there, excited to see the fun dog pictures.  But, we were thrown off base when there weren’t as many prints as we thought there would be.  It seems his Funney/Strange exhibit was to highlight the fact that he is a multi-faceted artist, and dog photos are just a small part of his portfolio.

The highlight of the trip for me was seeing these great paintings that were made up of postcards on a canvas with scenes added around them.  Everything tied together so well and the postcards — some of monuments, cities, waterways, all from different areas of the country — became one work.  There were probably 100 or so on one particular piece and looking at everything up close was an experience.  I have rarely experienced art like I have when I saw these paintings.  The picture here just does not do it justice.

As I was reading We Were the Mulvaneys, I could not get these paintings out of my head.  Joyce Carol Oates is doing the same thing as Wegman, but in print.  She describes a clear image, ventures to another part of the canvas, paints a fuzzy Mulvaney, then attaches another postcard of an explicit event.

It is beautiful and annoying at the same time.  As I read, I wish I was experiencing the painting come alive rather than watching Oates tell the story in pieces.  I’m feeling a bit detached from the events in the story.