Photograph by puckotg22
Steve Allen’s comic rhythms were uncannily Grouchoesque, yet totally his own, as wehn he told a physician on the show, “I’m allergic to two things, dogs and cigars, and if I ever meet a dog smoking a cigar I’ll be in real trouble.”
From Seriously Funny by Gerald Nachman
the last known Thylacine which died in captivity in 1933 in a zoo in Hobart, Tasmania
It was largely silent, its vocalisations being limited to an occasional terrier-like bark when hunting and a series of husky barks when excited in captivity.
From a book on Australian marsupials
Thylacine by Alexis Rockman from the book Carnivorous Nights by Margaret Mittelbach and David Crewdson
A few years ago we began visiting a stuffed and mounted animal skin with something akin to amorous fervor. We didn’t tell our friends about this secret relationship. We feared they would think it was unhealthy to be infatuated with a dead animal.
The object of our obsession resided at the American Museum of Natural History in Manhattan. Best known for its towering dinosaur skeletons and beautiful but creepy dioramas of gorillas and stuffed birds, the museum also housed a library where we did research. On the way there, we would walk through the perpetual twilight of the museum’s halls, passing meteorite fragments, African carvings, and a life-sized herd of motionless pachyderms.
When exactly we first saw this magnificent animal is lost in the recesses of memory, but we remember being instantly captivated by its exotic form. We marveled at its still limbs, at its head posed coyly downward, at its glorious Seussian stripes. It was a taxidermy of a Tasmanian tiger inside a rectangular glass case, and it was positioned in such a lifelike manner, its mouth curved in a friendly canine smile, that we found ourselves feeling affection for it as if it were a long-lost pet. It had 15 dark brown stripes across the back of its ginger-colored coat, which is why it was called a tiger, but the stripes were where that resemblance ended. Its body was shaped more like a wolf’s or wild dog’s.
world’s ugliest dog
The group became a little larger over the course of about 15 years, with various animal-loving, tattooed bikers in the New York area joining the conversation. One member, Angel Nieves, a 47-year-old retired city police detective, grew up in the projects on West 125th Street and remembered taking in strays from the streets as a boy, as did many of his cohorts. He owns a tiny, white bichon frisé named Cris.Having run in crowds where animal abuse was rampant, often involving pit bull fights, the men volunteered at shelters and the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty Toward Animals, and they tried to solve cases of missing or abused animals that other organizations had neither the time nor the resources to address.
Next month, the bikers will begin a program in the city’s public schools to educate children about being kind to all animals, even the less attractive breeds. They will be accompanied by Elwood, a small, hairless Chihuahua mix judged in an annual California contest to be the World’s Ugliest Dog.
Illustration of the constellation, Canis Major, “Greater Dog”. Canis Major is located near the constellation Orion, the Hunter in Greek mythology, and is considered one of Orion’s hunting dogs.
We are meaning seeking creatures. Dogs, as far as we know, do not agonise about the canine condition, worry about dogs in other parts of the world, or try to see their lives from a different perspective. But human beings fall easily into despair, and from the very beginning we invented stories that enabled us to place our lives in a larger setting that revealed an underlying pattern, and gave us a sense that, against all the depressing and chaotic evidence to the contrary, life had meaning and value.
Karen Armstrong. A Short History of Myth
Jeff Scher is a Brooklyn-based experimental filmmaker and painter.
Theare those hot and humid days that humble man and beast alike. I wanted to make a film that gave the feeling of surrendering to the heat of an August afternoon. Dogs, locked in fur coats all year ’round, look extra hot in the summer, so using them struck me as a good way to represent the way we feel. . . .
I love dogs and painting them is always interesting. One minute they seem so human, listening to you or interacting on an emotional level, and the next minute they’re drinking out of the toilet or rolling around on a dead squirrel. And they are always game — when it isn’t too hot out. Sid, the Boston terrier in this film, starred in a previous film of mine, called “Sid,” proves this point.
From The New York Times
Ed Ruscha Dog, 1994
Print on handmade paper
Gain a parking lot; lose your artists. That’s Venice mediocre future if work on a segment of a parking lot (slated to lie between Abbot Kinney Blvd and Electric Avenue) continues as planned this August 14.
Though the lot, which will feature metered parking, has long been touted as a benefit for the valued small businesses of our community, VenicePaper has been informed that the paving of its first phase-between Venice Boulevard and Palms Avenue-will entail the removal of a much-used, albeit shabby work-area situated behind studio spaces occupied by artists Ed Ruscha and Laddie John Dill. Prompting the low-key Ruscha to consider leaving Venice after years working here.
Ruscha is said to be loathe to ask for favors. But this isn’t about a favor for him. This is about a favor for Venice.
Both economically and philosophically it benefits Venice, and our Abbot Kinney business district, to keep Ruscha, Dill and as many artists as we can in within the area. The parking area adjacent to their studios should remain unpaved and undisturbed.
As for Dill, he has given a lifetime of favors to Venice. On his back, Art Walk was built. Lest you think Art Walk simply drove dollars to the Venice Family Clinic, think again. Art Walk was the mega-marketing vehicle that trumpeted the unique lifestyle Venice offered, creating the vibe that sold a thousand art lofts.
Between the two men, they have helped put Venice on the map, changed the way the world sees our community, elevated it’s place in the artworld and supported a multitude of Venetians and local businesses.
From Venice Paper