Eminent art critic and acerbic wit, Susan McEwan, brings home the bacon with a critical review of the latest in the Fieldey oeuvre, Mad Dog.
For those of you who thought that perhaps the likes of Miss Minotaur were a little too demure for today’s liberal viewers, Fieldey presents Mad Dog; with the accessories of Paris Hilton, the grace of Audrey Hepburn and enough tits to satiate even Angelina’s brood, the subject of this bitchin’ new board appeals to all manners of taste.
In this new work Fieldey marries together some unlikely influences. Never before would we have looked to Coolidge’s seminal work, Dogs Playing Poker, as sites of repressed sexual desire, but Mad Dog begs us to question previous conceptions about the erotic canine figure in art. With the sagging Bulldog features of Great Auntie Barbara juxtaposed to her supple, plentiful breasts, her figure embroiled in ripened passionfruit vine with a hint of sado-masochistic fetishism, Fieldey confronts us with our darkest Oedipal desires.
She may be Man’s best friend, but Mad Dog is a bad, bad girl.
Editors note: If you liked this blog post, why not impress your friends with your refined taste and share this?