Big Dog
Robert Winter, 2006 

Acrylic on Stretched Canvas
24" x 36"

Giclee Print:   $600
On Sheet Canvas, Unframed

Framed Original:   Not currently for sale

Artist's Notes

This painting deals with what people tend to consider important in our contemporary world, and what that does to them.

The man sits in a room that, by virtue of his having darkened it, has become just a background, a kind of non-place.  He's also turned his back on the real world (although a somewhat bleak one, as brand-new subdivisions tend to be) of his neighborhood outside.  The only thing he finds worthy of his attention is the non-real world he sees projected on his giant-screen TV.

His rapt and unflagging attention to this "virtual world" of impossibly craggy-featured, ultra-virile heroes and blonde goddesses,  exotic places, and adrenaline-pumping action and drama cannot help but leave him feeling dwarfed and insignificant by comparison. 

He's trying desperately to proclaim himself a "big dog,"  via his enormous SUV no less than by his T-shirt.  But  he's really only big in terms of girth--the predictable body shape of a passive spectator-consumer.   And as macho as he tries to appear, with his shaved head and his goatee and his gangsta-inspired clothing, he's ultimately just a guy in childlike short pants with feminized "man boobs" on his chest. 

The position of his legs as he "receives" his media is also disturbingly suggestive of what this whole process is doing to him.

I'm not scornful of him;  I feel for him.  Although he's bloated and misshapen, he's still more than just a heap of passive adipose tissue and id.  You can still see a distinct light and sensitivity and awareness about his eyes. 

What's sad is that his demeaned position is so much of his own choosing.  Even in purely in visual terms, think how much more dignified his position would be if he just clicked off the TV, got up off the bleacher-like couch (where he looks like just one lonely and insignificant ticket-buyer in a movie theater), and chose instead to click on the lamp, sit down in the armchair (the one with the artwork above it that he can't currently see), and  read something.

  © COPYRIGHT 2006 ROBERT WINTER.  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

 

© COPYRIGHT 2006 ROBERT WINTER.  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.