William Wegman, best known for working with his beloved Weimaraners, was photographing bulldogs for a commercial shoot in May when Panopticon Gallery’s owner Jason Landry and independent curator Jeffrey Keough stopped by his New York studio. The artist would gently toss the dogs a short distance onto a landing pad, according to an affectionate and comic essay by Keough. When the shoot was finished, Keough writes, Wegman turned to his assistant and said, “I want to throw more dogs."
In came Wegman’s Weimaraners Penny, Candy, and Bobbin. Penny and Candy cheerfully submitted to being thrown. Bobbin, who has a sore hip, was excluded, even though, Keough reports, he “begged to be involved.’’

William Wegman, Untitled (Flying Dog #2), 2010
Four stunning, funny images from the brand new “Untitled (Flying Dog)’’ series are included in “William Wegman: Inside/Outside,’’ a delightful exhibit Landry and Keough have organized at Panopticon. The four describe an arc as a Weimaraner, almost as fluid as a drop of mercury but with more personality, rises into the air against a warm sepia background and begins to descend.
Wegman has been photographing Weimaraners for more than 30 years. The images receive popular acclaim because the dogs — gorgeous, velvety beasts — express such soulfulness and naked trust, and because Wegman often does witty and surprising things with them. That’s what folks relate to and laugh at. But Wegman’s acute attention to form makes his work art rather than greeting-card fodder, and the flying dogs are a perfect example. They stretch, gather, and fold, each reading like a Japanese Zen master’s calligraphic stroke.
“Inside/Outside" features 38 enchanting prints, some shot in the studio, others outdoors. “Washed Up’’ features two dogs lying on the beach, eyes closed, one with a leg draped over the other. They’re almost human, but their tone and contours are not unlike those of the rocks in the background. In “Psycho,’’ a gray dog peeks out from behind textured glass (the kind you find in a shower door), eyes wide, a canine Janet Leigh.
Each shoot is a collaborative and improvisational performance. That sounds chaotic, but Wegman’s photos distill the chaos into form, relationship, and narrative, and into art just about everyone can appreciate.
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Cate McQuaid,
Boston Globe - July 21, 2010
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