Do Little

As a child, I thoroughly enjoyed the imaginary world created by the English author Hugh Lofting in his 1920 book, The Story of Docter Dolittle. The rudimentary illustrations and the stilted text brought the good doctor and his coterie of animal friends to life in a rather odd way. And thenthere was Stuart Little, Mickey Mouse, Paddington Bear, the crew from Watership Down and on and on. The whole talking animal thing has been with us forever so it seems only logical, and I use that word loosely, that Seattle Art Museum would feature the voices of animals – “one hundred representatives,” according to SAM - to narrate their current collections exhibition, A Room for Animal Intelligence.

In a welcome refresh to the gallery/wide hallway/landing at the top of the escalator, the SAM curators have selected a menagerie of sculptural animal objects from their vaults. The notable exception is the loaned large cedar She Wolf, Companion Species (Underbelly), by Portland artist Marie Watt. The piece sets the tone for the room with its materiality and stacked timber construction being very DYI Northwest but referencing both early Roman history and Native cultures. It is this mix of periods and peoples that makes this show so engaging.

As a nod to the Year of the Horse, the stately terracotta Chinese celestial horse is joined by a rather ho-hum, ubiquitous welded steel horse by Deborah Butterfield (she has made better ones). As I moved through the installation, I was intrigued by the colors and style of the display furniture. The teal and yellow surfaces combined with a noticeable wood grain were of a distinct period, but I could not define it, but it felt boutique-y, for better or for worse. For instance, the compact stone Ganesha figure was in a yellow cubby whilst the Spirit Elephant mask was perched on stick with a teal wall beyond. I almost looked for price tags.

Not unlike the pairing of the elephants, which does work to make us compare and contrast, the coupling of the headless dog-like vases, Chinoiserie, #3, by Seattle artist Claudia Fitch, and the sleek Greyhounds Playing, by William Hunt Diederich, is similarly brilliant. Note how the tenor of the text changes with each animal, here with Fitch’s creatures bemoaning their lumpiness being located next to the agile greyhounds. Another ying/yang or Mutt/Jeff pair is the meet up of the Deep Plate made by a Portuguese factory in the 1860s, which mimics the work by the early 1500s French artist Bernard Palissy, with the snake and lizard in the grass and odd frog, next to Osiris, a cookie jar and cookies by West Coast artist David Gilhooly, who made so many frogs in so many ways.

I was pleased to see two beaded pieces by Seattle artist Sherry Markovitz. Sea Bear talks about a vision the artist had when she was at the ocean soon after the birth of her son. The sculpture is from a very successful series where the artist applied thousands of tiny glass beads (and other small objects) to either pre-made taxidermy forms or handmade papier-mâché heads. There is a nice selection of animals by the underappreciated Philip McCracken, who lived on Guemes Island in Puget Sound, making stylized Modernist work from traditional carving materials. Look closely for the tiny netsuke pieces tucked in for smaller, younger viewers to discover, or the mid-century Modern blue cat by noted ceramicist Howard Kottler. And who doesn’t like a bird with hat on it, The God Horus as a Falcon, as shown in the case with other works from an earlier era. To show that Big Name Artists can do animals too, there is the small version of Geometric Mickey – Scale C, by Claes Oldenburg (and his wife Coosje van Bruggen) and the exceptional Mann und Maus, by Katherina Fritsch (which used to be in the collector’s living room).

There are so many good pieces in this show that I am glad that it is on view for a while so that visitors can see things on repeat and read the many long-ish text panels. But my favorite piece is of my least favorite creature. The Mosquito Mask, by Dr. Francis Horne Sr./Khut Whee Mul Uhk, carved from cedar and adorned with horsehair and feathers, is resplendent in its ickiness. The probing slender proboscis, about as long as my arm, gave me chills.

I truly appreciate this change of pace from overthought, dreary Impressionist food shows. Sometimes, less is more. The exhibition is topical without being preachy, approachable without being cloying, and gives voice to the Animal Kingdom, who, along with Stephen Sondheim, reminds us that “the history of the world, my sweet, is who gets eaten and who gets to eat.”

Milton Freewater

Milton Freewater is an arts writer living in Seattle, Washington.

A Room for Animal Intelligence is on view through January 31, 2027 at the Seattle Art Museum, located at 1300 First Avenue in Seattle, Washington. Museum hours are Wednesday from 10 a.m.to 5 p.m., Thursday from 10 a.m. to 8 p.m., and Saturday & Sunday from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m. For more information, visit http://www.seattleartmuseum.org/