He began as a goldsmith, actually. In fact, he studied under the man who made Napoleon’s gold.
But during his time off goldsmithing, he used to wander on the banks of the Seine in the 5éme Arondissement, through that superlative botannical garden, the Jardin Des Plantes.
But not for the plantes, you understand. For the animals.
Antoine-Louis Barye would wander through the garden, pad in hand, brandishing a pencil, and make tempestuous sketches of the animals which wandered through the gardens. He would go back and make small, sinuous bronzes.
But he wanted to work on bigger sculptures, become a sculpteur statuaire. And he did. Throughout his life he was a prolific animal sculptor. It was critics who first coined the term ‘ ‘animalier’ for him, and then for those contemporaries who followed suit. I am not all together sure the term was meant kindly.
And ever since, animaliers have been plying their trade, and we have had to walk exhibitions trying to separate our love of familiar companions from our analysis of the technique of the artists. It is hard to view these things dispassionately.
Pottering around the stunning gardens of Beaulieu, the Hampshire home of the Motor Museum and abbey ruins, it became apparent the animaliers were out in force. Look Twice is an exhibition of sculptures, many of them animals, scattered around the ruins and gardens.
But I looked more than twice when I came upon the work of one animalier. Carol Orwin has been around every since the St Martin School of Art accepted her, in 1972, to study under Sir Anthony Caro and Phillip King. She worked out of a studio in the Barbican for a stretch, abd then settled down with her own studio in Guildford.
She had a little dog sit for her; a female. She was nicknamed Dame Judi by the sculptor, because she had the behaviour and poise of an actress. And Dame Judi made it to the exhibition.
Regulars to these pages look twice. For this is what I saw:
Remind you of anyone?
Kate Shrewsday 
A good likeness.
I couldn’t believe it when I first saw it, Steven!
Without a second glance…the likeness of the beloved Macaulay. Do we have to carve to be animaliers?
I guess we could use clay 🙂
Did you know he was working as a model whilst the household slept?
I had no idea. He’s a wily hound with an unhealthy taste for self-promotion, Roger.
are you sure he wasn’t moonlighting?
Not sure at all! It probably IS him. Though masquerading as a girl is uncharacteristic.
It really is as if Macaulay is forever immortalised in bronze – H’s father managed the Surrey country estate belonging to Anthony Caro’s father. We have followed his career with interest.
It must have been quite something to watch it all unfold, Rosemary!
Macaulay’s French ancestor, perhaps?
Possibly, BB!
Positively spooky. Mind you I does rather show up the fallacy of the model dogs you see at seaside gift shops. That actually reminds me of a silly story. My ex-wife got on rather well with her ex-boyfriend’s mother. To the extent that each Christmas, through the post would arrive a highly stylised china model shoe. My mother-in-law built up quite a collection!
Ha! These collections have a way of hapening to one, Laurence 😀
She certainly did a wonderful job on Dame Judi … and your pup is just a darling.
Thank you, Jamie. He’s a good little bloke.
It’s the amazing Master Mac living forever.
Immortalised in stone, Lou! I wonder if the White Witch of Narnia got hold of him?
Macaulay! What a likeness. I’m suddenly reminded of a fairy tale; The Prince and the Pauper?
Ah, yes: the likeness is every bit as good as that one, Penny.
Rebirth theory, anyone?
Sounds a good call to me, Banno! Hello 😀
Amazing likeness! I knew him immediately…
I felt the same way walking past, Ruth. Most bewildering.
Regal creature deserves a regal statute, non?
Absolutely, Rafael. A suitable tribute.
An almost exact likeness. All that’s missing is the devilish gleam in the eye.
Though, of course, the gleam is about 75 per cent of the dog, Kathy. Whenever we go away and leave him with someone we are always astounded when we come back by how small he is. He is so huge in our minds.
Stunning resemblance! The moment I saw the sculptures of course your Macaulay came to mind. I love the thought of Dame Judi being connected to the work, too. Anamalier is a new term to me, and I rather love it. I wonder if you’re familiar with the artistic work of Liza Todd Tivey–Elizabeth Taylor’s daughter? She is an incredible artist with award winning bronze sculptures, horses being her primary focus. I now have a term for her art!
http://www.lizatoddtivey.com/sculpture.html
What beautiful work, Debra! I love it!
They do have a life of their own you know! I was browsing the National gallery in Stockholm when our dog showed up in a Renoir painting. At least they work only with the best!
Ah, your dog was clearly a hound of great impressionistic discernment, Solveig. How strange to see him sitting in a classical painting!
Uncanny resemblance. If you placed that statuary in your garden, Macauley would think his twin had moved in.
He would. I expect it would get a bubble woof or two, Nancy.
It looks like … I think it reminds me of … maybe it would be … hang on, it’ll come to me in a minute!
Pour a glass of something fortifying and I’ll leave you to think about it, Col 😀
It does look like Macaulay. Excellent. Now why would the critics put down work like this?
I am not sure what the critics response to this exhibition has been, Judy’ but cute art has its battles to fight. And this, like my dog, is incredibly cute 😀
I love the last one, where he is looking down at the camera. You wanted to learn to photo dogs, Kate, and you have.
Macaulay has been ready for his close up since he came into this world, Andra 😀 He poses, I snap. He’s the top model here.
I could definitely see it. 🙂
An uncanny resemblance, Kate. 🙂