It consists of a life-size autobiographical figure lying on the ground. A dog perches on her breast, his paws pressing into her flesh. On top of the dog stands a large cockerel. The title of the work alludes to the Grimm brothers’ tale, The Bremen Town Musicians, in which a donkey, a dog, a cat and a cockerel chase off a band of robbers from a cottage in a forest (Grimm 1918/2014). They do this by standing one on top of the other and creating a cacophony of their combined voices. When one of the robbers attempts to retake the cottage, the cat scratches him, the donkey kicks him, the dog bites him and the cockerel shrieks at him. In the perception of the robbers the animals appear variously as a witch or a giant. The animals in this laudable venture gain access to the cottage where they live happily ever after.
Chanticleer is not a literal interpretation, rather it was driven by a dimly conscious memory of the childhood story. The idea was also inspired by the iconic image of one animal standing on top of the other. Most importantly it was informed by my acquaintanceship with a feisty Boston terrier, namedPhoebe, whom I had met in New York in 2007. The gaze between the female form and the dog, Phoebe, suggests communication that is neither necessarily friendly nor affectionate. Yet, the look implies a reciprocal recognition of the being of the other.
