A Beautiful Sunday : Varazze & Genoa

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One Sunday in Italy a few weeks ago, a local friend offered to give me a quick tour of Varazze and Genoa. The weather for some of my trip had been drizzly, cloudy and very much like you’d expect to find in the north of Italy in October, but somehow over the weekend the temperatures warmed up to about 85 degrees and that was perfect for visiting two Mediterranean spots. I peeled off my sweater! I took off my socks! It was a wonderful break.

First we went to Varazze, a small city along the coast west of Genoa. People were on the beach in their swimsuits, kids playing, people strolling. There were kids doing their sailing classes, proud parents waiting on the pier. It felt like summer! Eventually I had to stop for the obligatory gelato. A very nice town.

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And of course there were dogs, lots of them out and about enjoying the gorgeous weather. Luckily my friend was (sort of) okay with me snapping away with my camera, taking pictures of his countrymen’s dogs. Actually, after noticing more dogs than he normally would, he’s beginning to consider getting himself a dog. :-)

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This gorgeous full-of-life boy is Athos, and I just love his stride. You can see that he enjoys cruising along like he owns the harbor (maybe he does?) and occasionally stirring things up with the other dogs he meets.

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Next, we jumped into the car and zipped off to Genoa. I was shocked (okay, horrified) to see a dog riding on the Vespa directly ahead of us. It’s not so much that the dog was on a Vespa (although that’s scary enough) but this dog was not in any type of carrier and was free to move around the rider’s feet! At one point his head was sticking out from the right side, and then he completely turned to poke his head out the left side, which is when I took this photo. Look closely and you can see the pup’s brown and white head. Hmmm :-/

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Genoa was a much larger city than I’d expected. It was also very interesting, with some of the most beautiful buildings and narrow streets I’d ever seen. My tour guide/friend pointed out lots of interesting places and offered some historical background and facts (for example, the streets are narrow to cut down on strong winds). When we arrived, he pointed out one area in particular near the waterfront saying “you probably wouldn’t want to walk around in there alone at night.” Okay. So as the sun began to set, the reason became obvious: the prostitutes started coming out and doing their thing. What’s surprising about that, at least to me, is that it was still relatively early evening, around 6pm. People were still out with their kids! I think even my friend was a little shocked.

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So I have to admit, somewhere along the line (design school? some movie?) I’d heard something less than nice about Genoa. I can’t remember what it was exactly, but I think it was described as nothing more than a grubby port city. I didn’t find that to be the case at all, nothing shabby about Genoa. In fact, the whole seafarer/exploration aspect was evident everywhere and I could feel its adventurous maritime past wafting in the air. After this quick day trip, I’m looking forward to spending more time in Genoa myself, and I’d highly recommend it to you also! And yes, there were lots of dogs (and pesto & focaccia)!

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Those Who Stay

Umberto Boccioni, study for "Those Who Stay"

On my last trip to Milan, a local friend suggested that I visit the Museo del Novecento which is located just a few steps from the Duomo. So I did, and I highly recommend it to anyone that would like to spend a few hours looking at some wonderful 20th century works of art. It’s also a beautiful building, with an interesting layout that includes a winding climb and lots of escalators. In fact, the building’s layout was so interesting that I had to get help a few times from the kind security people on a couple of the floors (but what else is new?).

One piece that stopped me in my tracks (causing me to hover around it for so long that I drew attention from the security people) is this one titled Those Who Stay by Italian artist Umberto Boccioni. It’s sort of one of three pieces that make up the series titled States of Mind about parting ways at a train station. And when I say “sort of” it’s because this is actually a study and not the finished version of Those Who Stay, but I like it better. Don’t get me wrong, I like the Futurist movement as much as the next guy with all of those geometric shapes and Cubist flavor, but this one seems much more compelling to me for a specific reason: it oozes heaviness and sadness. The other two pieces in the States of Mind series are titled Those Who Go and The Farewells.

The reason I’m drawn to this painting is because I’ve always hated goodbyes, and I think it captures that sadness completely. I’m talking about final goodbyes and the emptiness you feel when your loved one is no longer in this world. For me and a lot of other people, the loss of a pet has the same heart-ripped-out pain and devastation and the only thing that helps me heal is to remember that I’m not alone in this. In this painting, all of the left behind streaky figures share the sadness of loss and goodbye together. It’s amazing how art can affect you that way whether you like it or not, pulling you headfirst into a sea of emotion with a language of its own, but without any words. Like a sad, sad song that matches just the way you feel inside, you can gaze into a painting like this whenever you need to and just feel sad because you must.

One of my dogs isn’t well. His name is Nicholas, and I haven’t featured him on the blog yet because he’s been declining since I started it in July and it’s just been too hard. I don’t know how long he has left, I don’t think there’s anything else I can do, and I’m facing that awful decision. But one thing I do know is at some point I will be spending a lot of time gazing into Boccioni’s Those Who Stay.

Visit Museo del Novecento.
This link will take you to MoMA’s Collection page, where you can see the Boccioni series (click NEXT when you get there to see all three paintings in sequence).
A good article on Umberto Boccioni can be found here.

The New Yorker’s Cover Dogs

The New Yorker, cover November 26, 1966

I love this cover of the November 26, 1966 edition of The New Yorker because it features a dog. And not just any dog, but Underdog! Well, the balloon version of Underdog that is, floating by in the famous Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. For some reason I thought there was a particular story that inspired this cover, like a crash or escape or scandal, but since Underdog debuted in the parade only the year before in 1965 I guess not. There was a Friends episode apparently, in which the Underdog balloon did crash and added to the chaos of their Thanksgiving. But alas, no reality-based Underdog Thanksgiving Day Parade chaos exists that I can find. Oh well, I still really like the illustration and one day I really will frame it.

So then I started thinking about The New Yorker and what other great covers they’ve had over the years that feature dogs. Everyone knows (and loves) The New Yorker’s cartoons, there are so many books that feature collections of different subject matter such as teachers, lawyers, moms, doctors, cats, and of course dogs. But I was more interested in the iconic magazine’s covers, and so I put together an informal survey.

Covers of The New Yorker featuring dogs

It’s interesting to see the different illustration styles and palettes, and notice what trends come and go over the years. A few covers I’ve chosen feature the work of Mark Ulriksen, one of my favorite illustrators based in San Francisco (see the post here), but I’m not so familiar with the others. Some covers seem to be referring to a current event, like Obama getting ready to enter the presidency (and he’s listening to the dogs with their demands for maybe an off-leash area in the rose garden?), or it’s winter and time to ditch the old Christmas tree in the snow. Other times you just have to wonder what’s going on, if anything (is that dog thinking of water because it’s August or was there a big water shortage in 1974? I don’t remember, I was a kid). Not being a New Yorker myself, I’m usually drawn to the covers that feel, well, more “New Yorky”, like the one in the center below with the dog on the stoop having a sale. Or the one above with the Gotham-sized fire hydrant surrounded by a group of very happy dogs (bliss I guess). One thing that’s interesting to do is track is the cover price, beginning with a measly quarter in 1965 and ending up at six bucks. For now.

More New Yorker covers featuring dogs

Coming back full circle: if you love to root for the underdogs of the world and are interested in the phenomenon, there’s a really wonderful article by author Malcolm Gladwell that appears, oddly enough, in a past issue of The New Yorker. Not the November 26, 1966 issue, however, that would be weird. And impossible. Here’s the link.

All covers and illustrations copyright Condé Nast.

Saving Stephen Huneck’s Dog Mountain

Woodcuts by artist Stephen Huneck

I wanted to feature the artist Stephen Huneck’s work and the incredible Dog Chapel he created on his Dog Mountain in St. Johnsbury, Vermont for a while now. And so here we go, but unfortunately when I began doing research I was shocked to discover he passed away a few years ago. I think that perhaps I didn’t hear about it at the time because I lost someone very special on the exact same day: January 7, 2010. Stephen Huneck took his own life that day because he was distraught over having to lay off his staff. In an ironic twist, the staff was hired back following his death because of the renewed interest in his work. However, things have once again taken a downturn and the future of Dog Mountain is in serious jeopardy.

Stephen Huneck with Lab, Woodcuts and Post

If you’re not familiar with the art of Stephen Huneck, the majority of his work consists of wonderful woodcuts and carvings, usually with dogs as subject matter. The pieces often depict true dog moments and observations with minimal text, but the dogs always retain a certain sense of nobility (as they should!). In addition, he became a NY Times bestselling children’s book author, with many of the books featuring his black Lab Sally as the main character. Following an illness and two-month coma, Mr. Huneck had the idea to create a special place where people could come and visit to honor their spiritual connection with their dogs, Dog Chapel. There is a sign outside the chapel that reads “All Creeds, All Breeds Welcome. No Dogmas Allowed.” People have come from all over the world to visit Dog Chapel, many of them posting notes to their departed dogs on the walls inside.

Dog Chapel on Dog Mountain

I think that Stephen Huneck’s art is absolutely wonderful, but I also think that maybe his most successful piece is the living, breathing one we can all share: Dog Chapel and Dog Mountain. Every dog that visits, every person who comes with a heavy heart and a special message to send, every afternoon spent laughing and playing and enjoying life is the essence of this living piece. I hope that Dog Mountain can stay open, providing so many with the comfort they need after suffering a loss or celebrating life with their friend. If you’re planning a trip to Vermont for the fall color this year, maybe make a stop in St. Johnsbury and visit Dog Chapel and the Stephen Huneck Gallery. Or if you’d like to begin holiday shopping early this year, visit their website‘s online shop because every little bit helps. You can find anything there from keychains to books and puzzles for mobile devices to signed original woodcuts and sculptures.

You can find more information on Stephen Huneck in these articles:
Puppy Love, by Rosalyn Graham
Stephen Huneck, Artist of Dogs, Dies at 61 by Margalit Fox

Most images copyright and courtesy Stephen Huneck Gallery; dog post image, Ann Dabney via Flickr

England’s Cecil Aldin

Illustration by Cecil Aldin, 1902, from "A Dog Day"

I love to walk and wander around cities when I’m traveling because I often find wonderful things by chance. If I had read about a shop or something in a guidebook or magazine, I would probably spend most of the day pulling my hair out trying to find the place and be disappointed when I finally arrived. It might even be closed (doggone pet boutique in Milan). Or there would be no parking because I didn’t know it was market day (entire city of Siena). Even then, recovery is possible because other things can be discovered like an unexpected shop or a fantastic hidden-gem-of-a-locals-restaurant and hotel like Il Ceppo (see ya later, Siena). So, it’s taken a while but now I know: over-planning is overrated and chance encounters are best.

Example: seven years ago, I was wandering around in London when I came across one of those nifty London shops tucked away on one those nifty London streets whose specialty is antique prints. Not expensive prints, but old engravings and other cellophane-wrapped things in bins organized by subject matter. I bought three small prints that day featuring a cute dog because, well, I was smitten. They were only £6 each, but I could tell they were actually old and chopped out of a book. But what book?

Pup and woman with pup, from Cecil Aldin 1902

It turns out, the book is called A Dog Day, written by Walter Emanuel and illustrated by Cecil Aldin. Okay. It’s basically a day in the life of this cute but mischievous dog that gets away with everything and comes out smelling like a rose (Ferris Bueller?). This book has been reprinted several times over the years, but I doubt that a reprint would make me happy for the same reason my sister refuses to watch colorized old movies, Mr. Ted Turner: it just won’t be the same. I wouldn’t mind reading the whole day’s account though, because what I’ve read so far is pretty good. From the backs of my prints here’s a little disjointed sample of the story, complete with time stamps:

Excerpts from A Dog Day, by Walter Emmanuel and Cecil Aldin

So I end up being even more smitten than before. The thick paper stock feels special, the letterpress printing is wonderful, the metal typesetting’s imperfections make it perfect. I would say this find was a happy accident indeed, because while all of Great Britain has loved him forever and a day, I had never heard of Cecil Aldin or seen his wonderful illustrations. Mr. Aldin’s dogs Cracker (the Bull Terrier) and Micky (the Irish Wolfhound) are a famous pair that he featured in his popular book Sleeping Partners and as models for many other illustrations. Royal Doulton and other prominent English manufacturers have used his illustrations for a range of products over the years and these items are now hugely collectible. All of Cecil Aldin’s engraving plates were destroyed in World War II, so original prints are rare and have skyrocketed in value. I’m not a collector of anything (well, except dog hair) so I’m pretty happy with my three little prints, even if they were chopped out of a book. Unraveling the mystery of what I bought that day in London has been fun and I definitely plan to keep my eyes open for more things from one of England’s best loved illustrators, Mr. Cecil Charles Windsor Aldin.

Photo of Mr. Aldin and his dog/signature

If you’d like to read more about Cecil Aldin collectibles, this article seems very helpful.

Two Westies in Perugia

Two Westies in Perugia

Well, just when you thought you’d seen everything…

Two gorgeous (and rather large) Westies in Perugia, Italy, by the incredibly talented Mr. Mark Ulriksen. Don’t you just love the scale of these two guys, and that the people are just going about their business? I love it.

You can read my previous post about Mr. Ulriksen here or visit his site here.

Are There Any Good Concert T-Shirts?

Black Keys T-Shirt with bloodhound

I love music, all different kinds. But the truth is, you’re more likely to find me listening to tried-and-true Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong than a flavor of the month band. Don’t get me wrong, I do like contemporary music, but I don’t really seek out the hot and trendy (that’s what nephews are for) and so it usually takes getting my ears boxed for me to take notice. But even if I love it, I will avoid the dreaded concert t-shirt at all costs. I want to like them, I really do. But I just can’t.

My reason is simple and I know what to expect: as a rule, concert t-shirts are not very attractive. Typically ill-fitting (if you’re female) black Beefy-T’s with wall-to-wall garish typography and graphics front and back…It’s Wayne’s World on a hanger. Disclosure: I don’t usually go for any t-shirt with things printed, glued, stapled, sewn, tied or otherwise affixed so I’m predisposed to hating them. But concert t-shirts are just usually so :-/ and it’s easy for me to pass them up. Faded. Black. Cotton. Chills.

But put a cool illustration of a big ol’ dog face on there and, if it’s done well, I’m going to have to check it out. What a sweet droopy bloodhound face and where’s my wallet? A few years ago my husband surprised me with tickets to see Kings of Leon. I had no idea who the opening bands would be that night, but when I passed the t-shirt stand this design immediately caught my eye. The Black Keys? Who’s that? While I’m generally a little behind in the up-and-coming band department, I think maybe a lot of people hadn’t heard of The Black Keys at that point (except my nephew) because this was long before their music featured in 3 out of 5 television ad campaigns. But since they had this big dog face on their t-shirt, I figured they were going to be really good. And of course they were. Now who’s Kings of Leon?

So dogs really do make everything (even concert t-shirts) better.

So I’m a Dog Person

Birthday card front with dog illustrations

I’m curious about something: At what point do people begin to see you as a “dog person”?

I guess the quantity involved is a big factor and if so, what’s the magic number when the moniker becomes unavoidable? Two? More than two? More than three? I’m smiling as I write this because there certainly are worse things to be known for and I don’t really mind, although “dog lady” sticks in my craw a little. Craw lady. No.

Let me just say this: I think if a person even has just one dog, but they begin to dress it up in little outfits every day and push it around in a stroller, the label might be knocking at their door as well. Just saying. Fair is fair, right?

In either case, once you are a bonafide “dog person”, people will begin to give you things that are doggy. Doggy tchotchkes. Sometimes they are really wonderful things (and not at all tchotchkes) that they make themselves, like this birthday card that a good friend made for me. I was so happy when I opened it and I cherish it. The truth is my birthday was lousy this year, because my ailing dog Henry took a turn for the worse and it seemed that day might be his last. But this sweet card with these seven pups she drew cheered me up a lot on that sad birthday. And it reminded me that no matter what’s going on, being a “dog person” really is a wonderful gift in itself.

Photographer and Author Priscilla Rattazzi

Gianni Agnelli with his dog Dyed Eyes by Priscilla Rattazzi

I subscribe to too many magazines and I can’t stop. The print kind. It takes me a while to flip through them (especially those fall Vogue phone books) but sometimes I’ll commit to going through a stack and just flip away, tearing out articles or images and putting them into stacks like an old-school Pinterest. But it’s not Pinterest, so that means I usually have a stack of articles and images to go through after I finish my flipping. But I work quickly, I’m like that animal that’s attracted to shiny things and only shiny things. With eyes zig-zagging and darting plus some really heavy editing, I’m usually in pretty good shape and the stacks end up being pretty minimal. Things come to a screeching halt, however, when I see a dog. Or anything Italian. Or something really beautiful. When it’s all three, well forget it. At that point I’ve found the shiniest thing of all and it’s time out.

This happened to me a while back as I raced through the December 2006 issue of Town & Country when I came across an article about celebrated photographer and author Priscilla Rattazzi. For many years she worked as a fashion photographer in New York (in those Studio 54 days), later focusing on photography for her books: Georgica Pond, Luna & Lola, Children, and Best Friends. Such a beautiful collection of images, and what a life! Her uncle was head of Fiat and icon-in-general Gianni Agnelli, and everyone knows the Agnellis are pretty much the Kennedys of Italy. So just drinking in the private moments she’s captured over the years is really a wonderful treat. Lucky for me, she loves dogs and her 1989 book Best Friends is page after page of them with their mover-and-shaker owners. In the above photo, her uncle Gianni Agnelli is shown in his circa 1980 pin-striped slacks and tie (after a long day at the office?) sharing one of those private moments with his Siberian Husky called Dyed Eyes. I don’t know about you, but for me, seeing a captain of industry like Gianni Agnelli enjoying a moment like this with his dog is pretty darn endearing. And Mr. Agnelli also wrote the introduction for the book.

One of my other favorites from Best Friends is the photo below featuring Nini Guatti with his dog Andiamo. Such a great image, captured at the precise moment. I think I’m especially drawn to it because my dad often dressed this way and I really miss him, and what’s better than a dog called Andiamo (let’s go)?!

Nini Guatti with his dog Andiamo, by Priscilla Rattazzi

Priscilla Rattazzi has done a wonderful job of chronicling, in both pictures and words, the relationship between her family’s Golden Retriever and their miniature Dachshund in her 2010 book Luna & Lola. The images are warm in composition and reproduction, the book’s cover is a lovely matte stock complete with slipcover so it feels especially “gifty”. It’s a gorgeous book, certainly, but also an incredibly moving portrait of two dogs, the family that loved them and the time they shared together. Sadly, Luna passed away just before the book was completed, and the book includes a truly touching eulogy written by Ms. Rattazzi’s husband Chris Whittle at the end. Luna enjoyed her life with Lola and the rest of her family, and that really comes across on every page. As with all of Priscilla Rattazzi’s work, I really appreciate having the experience of taking a look. And it gets better: a portion of the proceeds from Luna & Lola will be donated to the Animal Rescue Fund of the Hamptons in Wainscott, New York.

Luna & Lola by Priscilla Rattazzi

For details on the book Luna & Lola, click here.
For more information on Priscilla Rattazzi, including many press articles and gallery information, click here.
To watch a video of a recent talk by Priscilla Rattazzi at the George Eastman House in Rochester, New York click here.
Gianni Agnelli with Dyed Eyes and Nini Guatti with Andiamo courtesy and copyright Priscilla Rattazzi.

Erica Preo is CEO & Creative Director of Pantofola, pure luxury Italian goods for dogs.

San Francisco Artist Mark Ulriksen

Jack Russells by Mark Ulriksen

As a graphic designer, you’re pretty much constantly bombarded with self-promotions from illustrators and photographers. And your desk is always buried with 3-inch thick directories of the same (that really only get used for either flattening something that’s being glued down for a presentation or, in the case of one firm where I worked that shall remain nameless, as trivets for hot and steamy pizza boxes on the conference table). So when you come across someone’s work that’s really great AND memorable, it definitely makes an impression and you keep all manner of pizza toppings far away from it.

I remember the first time I saw something by San Francisco-based artist and illustrator Mark Ulriksen (and yes it’s because the subject matter was dogs, you got me there). I had picked up a copy of a newsletter titled The Berkeley Bark at the vet’s office, in Berkeley no less. At that time the newsletter was a black and white folded tabloid, with Mark’s work on the front cover. It wasn’t too many pages in length but it was good and so I would always eagerly await the next issue. It wasn’t long before The Berkeley Bark became the now-famous Bark Magazine and I’ve loved seeing Mark’s work there and other places, like The New Yorker where he’s a regular contributor, ever since. His work is also in the permanent collection of The Smithsonian and the Library of Congress. High fives.

Images of work from San Francisco artist Mark Ulriksen

Now I should probably mention that not all of Mark Ulriksen’s work is about dogs, but I like them (and I’m pretty sure he does, too) so I’ve gone to town here. In addition to his illustration assignments he also does private commission portrait work, so one day I plan to send him an enormous shoebox full of photographs of all my dogs and a giant sack of coffee for the long haul.

If you’d like to check out his site and more of his work, click here. If you’re interested, under “Show-and-Tell” click “Work in Progress” of the dalmatian painting featured above. Gosh, it almost makes you think you can do one yourself. But no.