Les Chiens 1860s

Editor: Here we have "Les Chiens," taken in the 1860s by Pierre-Louis Pierson. It’s a photograph currently housed at the Met. The framing is very ornate; the contrast with the little dog, though, is charming. What jumps out at you when you see this, aside from the sheer Victorian-ness of it all? Curator: Oh, the Victorians! Always gilding the lily. For me, it's the pretense—or maybe not so pretense? It calls itself a specimen at the bottom. And the question bubbles up in my mind: Specimen of what? Affection? Bourgeois aspiration? Or, dare I say, the beginnings of understanding our interconnectedness with creatures great and small, even if filtered through a heavily stylized lens? The little dog's face – he's either supremely confident or supremely confused. Which do you think? Editor: Confident, definitely. Like he knows he’s the star of this very strange show. You know, thinking of him as a "specimen" makes the picture…darker somehow? Curator: Darker, yes, like a pinned butterfly, but then…there's that red cushion. A spot of warmth. Red often signals life, passion. It feels defiant. Maybe the darkness is our own modern projection. We want to find shadows, knowing how these eras also exploited animals. The photograph has that quality where meaning changes in every viewing. Editor: I didn’t even notice the red. But you’re right; it shifts things. Curator: Art does that, doesn't it? It demands we keep looking, keep questioning, even when we think we’ve seen it all. So, has our furry specimen managed to teach us anything today? Editor: Absolutely. I’ll never look at a framed photograph the same way again. Thanks!