By Colleen Yarger, George L. Ohrstrom, Jr. Curator of Library Collections
Have you ever read an account—that was stated as being true—but, wondered if the truth had been stretched for storytelling purposes?
I have.
Today, I write because I recently witnessed something that significantly diminished my skepticism about the power of trompe l'oeil (the ability to fool the eye) painting upon animals.
Antonio Leonelli (Antonio da Crevalcore) (Italian, born by 1443–died by 1525).
Still Life with Grapes and a Bird, ca. 1500–10. Oil on canvas, 15 5/8 x 15 5/8 in. (39.7 x 39.7 cm). The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Promised Gift of Stanley David Moss (L.2016.26).
My skepticism began in an undergraduate art history course, hearing the tale of the ancient Greek painter Zeuxis (5th c. BCE), who—supposedly—painted grapes that were so realistic looking that birds flew down from the sky to try to eat them…suuuure…I thought.
Fast forward a few years to a time when I was researching celebrated equine artist George Stubbs, whose ability to paint a horse naturalistically was unmatched. There is an oft-repeated story about Stubbs' painting of Whistlejacket. Supposedly, after Stubbs had finished the painting, it was turned so that its subject, Whistlejacket (an 18th c. Thoroughbred), could see his portrait. Whistlejacket attempted to attack the painting…or so the story goes…I mused.
George Stubbs (English, 1724-1806),
Whistlejacket, about 1762. Oil on canvas, 296.1 x 248 cm. Bought with the support of the Heritage Lottery Fund, 1997 (NG6569).
Both of these accounts left me wondering how much was fact versus fiction. It is a thought that remained unresolved, until now.
Last week, the National Sporting Library & Museum hosted English artist Madeleine Bunbury. Bunbury spent the week of October 23-27 painting Rooster, a six-year-old pony owned by the admirable and affable Snowden Clarke.
Madeleine Bunbury painting Rooster, October 26, 2023
For those unfamiliar with Bunbury's work, she paints equine portraits on a monumental scale. Her canvas of Rooster was 70 inches in height by 78 inches in width—or to put it another way, life-size. For two hours a day, Monday through Friday, Rooster patiently stood in the Library's Founders' Room—in one-hour increments—while Bunbury painted his portrait.
On Friday afternoon, moments after Bunbury had affixed her signature in the bottom right corner, the canvas was turned so Rooster—like Whistlejacket—could behold his portrait. The canvas turned, and Rooster went from being very relaxed to jerking his head up, pricking his ears, and nickering. See for yourself in the video below!
Though the actual thoughts that flashed through Rooster's head will remain unknown; it seemed to me that for a brief second Rooster was fooled into thinking another horse was in the room!
Fortified with loving pats and soothing vocal encouragement, Rooster took the few necessary steps to inspect his portrait.
Being able to witness Rooster's reaction (which Madeleine says happens frequently with her art) is something I won't forget, and it has certainly changed my outlook on the story of Zeuxis' grapes and Stubbs' Whistlejacket!
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