Plinth

This is all to say I know I’m biased but I’m not the world’s biggest fan of the breed. But having done a bit of research, I’m here to say sorry for being so judge-y.

Did I ever stop to think whether Witchy Poodle might have been crying out of self-pity? Not only did she look like a witchy little llama in a funhouse mirror, but she was meant for a nobler existence than this one: eating scrambled eggs off a human plate in a bougie café and then having a little (big) cry about it.

O how far the poodle has fallen! They were originally bred by wildfowl hunters to retrieve game from water, but now they are the victims of amateur topiary enthusiasts and the subjects of many a canvas by Sophie Larrimore. Her fauvist fluffballs embody the all-too-human question of how to live with dignity.

‘There’s a touch of The Garden of Earthly Delights about Sophie Larrimore’s works’, says Emily Steer, and I agree. After Bosch, these canvases stage a fall from grace.

Larrimore’s style is flat, bold and gives off strong Sumerian vibes. But instead of enshrining Mesopotamian gods on friezes, she has humanoid poodles and poodleoid humans lie down, bend over, or banana boat Martian-looking trees, as in ‘Perennial Crush’. This world can be rather, well, embarrassing, especially in the taffy pink and greens of the 70s-that-should-have-stayed-in-the-70s.

Matisse wanted art to be like an armchair: with all the vibrant colour and funky flora and fauna in Tetris-like arrangements, maybe Larrimore’s art is about comfort too — but only insofar as it is also about its opposite.

Consider the cuddle in 'Alternate Side'. This hug from behind, arm around the shoulder, communicates safety and security, with a yin yang of heads in harmony. Then again, the couple’s mouths are clenched as zippers, their necks permanently cricked. Poking out its tiny tongue, the clutch-sized poodle stares directly at the viewer; meanwhile, it’s difficult to tell whether the two figures are also looking at us, stony-eyed. What seemed so cosy a second ago is a bit, er, creepy. Above, a third figure, long-limbed as one of Matisse’s dancers but limp as a dead fish in a tank, free falls. Is that where they’re headed?

I'm not sure, and I'm not sure it matters. Sitting with the ambiguity for a while, you get the sense that the real comfort of Sophie Larrimore’s work comes from its seeming acceptance of discomfort and indignity as facts of life. So as we all make New Year’s Resolutions — going for jogs in January and fed up and puffed out by February — let's remember these primped up poodles and consider whose standards of dignity and indignity we are really living by.

While ‘Desire Paths’ closes January 27, I’ll be taking these doggos with me Grace Kelly-style into the rest of 2022.

By Sammi Gale