Wegman Goes Beyond Woof

Ever since William Wegman began portraying dogs as people, he has achieved the ultimate artistic hat trick: fame, fortune and critical acclaim.

In the first major retrospective in the county, the Orange County Museum of Art will present three decades of Wegman’s work in an exhibit opening Saturday. The display showcases drawings, paintings and videos but also includes some famous dog portraits--Wegman’s costumed canines in whimsical settings.

Unlike other “public” dogs--like the Taco Bell Chihuahua--the interpretation of his Weimaraners is open-ended, Wegman said.

“Most dogs are pinned down in the character,” Wegman said. The Weimaraners, however, “keep turning up in different guises. . . . You can’t solve them like you can a beagle.”

Wegman, who attended art school in the ‘60s, began his career as a video and installation artist, believing that painting was dead.

Early on, he became fascinated with photography and, inspired by his first Weimaraner muse, the dog he named Man Ray, he began his series of dog portraits.

Wegman bought the irrepressible puppy in Long Beach in 1970. Soon after, the dog strolled into Wegman’s studio where, not content as a mere observer, wanted to participate--barking and strutting until Wegman noticed his potential as a model.

Fame followed.

The result of the collaboration between dog and artist are surreal, circus-like tableaux--staged and glossy but with kitschy content.

Though he has been identified with different art movements--Dada, surrealism, performance, minimalism, pop and conceptual--Wegman is an iconoclast who revels in poking fun at art world pretensions, and often his dog portraits are visual puns.

His photos are celebrations of the absurd. By using the dogs in a witty expose of the man-made world, Wegman seems to ask, “What is stranger--the dressed-up dog or the world of his master?”

It’s an illustration of the breadth of Wegman’s appeal that he has exhibited at the Museum of Modern Art and the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York and has appeared on “The Late Show With David Letterman”--arguably three of the most important institutions of fame in America.

And when the New Yorker decided to celebrate its 75th anniversary with its first photo cover, the magazine commissioned Wegman, who posed a Weimaraner as Eustace Tilley--the magazine’s monocled dandy. Classic Wegman (and New Yorker) humor.

Some of the contemporary Wegman Weimaraner photos on display at the Orange County Museum are almost pure abstraction.

“Headless,” for example, is a portrait of a dog in shadows, bending away from the camera--so it appears--without its head, as an obscure form, but not a dog.

Both the “abstract,” contemporary prints and the older “costume pieces” have the polished look of photorealism. But because they have been technically touched up (like glossy ads) they challenge the viewer’s expectation that photographs truthfully depict the world.

“The pictures have their own logic and story lines,” Wegman said.

But if the pictures tell stories, some are elusive, almost cryptic.

Peter Weiermair, in an essay titled “Photographs: Subversion Through the Camera” in the exhibition catalog, writes: “It is difficult to describe--much less to categorize. . . . A typical feature of these works, and this holds true for all of Wegman’s work, is that they do not relay a precise message . . . their meanings can be found on different levels.”

Despite the ambiguity of the pictures, the dogs remain extraordinarily popular.

When Man Ray died, the Village Voice dubbed the dog, “Man of the Year.”

Wegman was adamant that there could be no replacement for his canine companion, but during a lecture at a Tennessee college, he met a breeder who insisted that he see a couple of Weimaraner puppies; thus, he met his second Weimaraner, Fay.

As a muse, few have anything on Fay Ray. Her stoic stare is as enigmatic as a certain 16th century Italian smile.

But Fay is more than a muse--she is also part of the Wegman family, which includes the artist, his wife and their two young children. They live in a New York residence that combines home and studio.

“It suits my overlapping lifestyles,” Wegman said, adding that his 5-year-old son, Atlas, often inspires his work when he visits the studio.

“It wakes us up,” Wegman said. “He brings a kind of electricity.”

Wegman also has a 2-year-old daughter, Lola. (Who, Wegman said, is as beautiful as her celluloid namesake.)

Atlas and Lola have also inspired Wegman’s work for children, such as a video called “Alphabet Soup,” and a Cinderella story enacted by the dogs.

“A kid is like an adult but without any bias,” Wegman said. “They just accept the magic of the image.”

But the image is popular with adults too.

The portraits have become a veritable industry. At the official Wegman web site (https://www .wegmanworld.com), a motley collection of Weimaraner merchandise is for sale. Mouse pads, screen savers, greeting cards and $19.95 T-shirts are displayed next to information about the artist, and a list of frequently asked questions.

The most common inquiry? How many dogs does Wegman own? (The answer: Wegman lives with two and works with two others.)

He has graciously accepted the label “the guy with the dogs,” and despite his dog-free paintings, drawings and installations, the Weimaraners remain his most-famous subject. Three decades of living and working with the patient canines has been a blessing.

“It’s a privilege,” Wegman said. “They’re so precious. They’re beautiful.

* “William Wegman,” Saturday through July 16 at the Orange County Museum of Art, 850 San Clemente Drive. Museum hours: Tuesday-Sunday, 11 a.m-5 p.m. Admission: $5; seniors and students, $4; OCMA members and children 16 and younger, free. Admission is free every Tuesday. (949) 759-1122.