AN OLD, OLD, DOG STORY

Wairarapa Times-Age, 27 October 1939, Page 2

AN OLD, OLD, DOG STORY

OVER 2.000 YEARS AGO. This nmrJ surely be one of the world's oldest dog stories. To bo precise. it is in the main a story of a) picture of a dog. ' In our own times no people are so . fond of dogs as the English and on many walls in Australia you will see engravings of Landseer’s “Dignity and Impudence” and other dog studies that 80 or 90 years ago won the approbation of Queen Victoria and of English people generally. It would have been a miracle, indeed, had a dog picture, by Protogenes come down to us. as the Laocoon has come, that wonderful work in marble which, like the paintings of Protogenes, was part of the flowering of culture in the Mediterranean island of Rhodes 400 years before the birth of Christ. Modernism canno't possibly repeat such glamorous history as that of Rhodes. Sculpture, painting, science of governrfient, athletic prowess, naval supremacy—it is an entrancing story of a little island. Vision, if you can, a slim, dark, young artist offering his pictures to his fellow Greeks. They lived in an atmosphere of art, and were not impressed. They were, however, a people of the sea, proud of their ships, and Protogenes contrived to gain a living by painting them pictures of their boats that sailed the blue Aegean. Then came a turn of Fortune’s wheel. To Rhodes came Apelles, whose fame as an artist had spread over all the then known world. He warmly praised the work of Protogenes, and the ashamed Rhodians echoed his acclamation and heaped their once cold-shouldered artist with lavish orders. AN ARTIST’S RAGE. Enter the dog! Protogenes was engaged on a great picture. In a corner of it, commanding attention,, he painted a panting dog. It involved close study, and time and again the artist painted it in and painted it out. He could not satisfy himself. Doubtless he thought of Appelles, who had painted a picture of a horse which so moved a living 1 horse that it gave a challenging neigh. The necessary subtle touches of the brush evaded the genius of Protogenes. He was in despair. Many times he rushed a dog over the hills and hurried back to his painting, but the result was always a failure.

At last he felt he had succeeded. He stood a few yards away from his picture and studied it again. Alas, again failure- Exasperated, he picked up a sponge, the nearest object to his hand, and flung it at the picture. The sponge, charged with his passion, flew straight to the muzzle of the painted dog. A miracle. Protogenes stood amazed. The effect of the sponge on the wet paint had effected what he had so long striven to achieve. There at last was his panting dog. What he had failed to do by his art, chance had done, and he lifted up his arms and thanked the gods who had forgiven his anger and enabled him to give further proof that the praise of Apelles had been justified.