[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 154 (2008), Part 3]
[Senate]
[Pages 4017-4018]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                   TRIBUTE TO STEPHEN AND GWEN HUNECK

  Mr. LEAHY. Mr. President, recently the Associated Press wrote a great 
article about Stephen and Gwen Huneck and their Dog Mountain studio. I 
have seen this article reprinted throughout the country.
  If one goes into my office in Washington, my office in Vermont, my 
home in Vermont, or my home here, one would see many pieces of 
Stephen's artwork. Both Marcelle and I are great fans of his.
  One of the pleasures of living in a small State like ours is that we 
had the opportunity to get to know Stephen and Gwen and realize what 
real human beings they are. They are among our valued friends, and I 
want the Senate to have the opportunity to read this article as part of 
an insight into why we think so highly of them. I ask unanimous consent 
to have the article printed in the Record.
  There being no objection, the material was ordered to be printed in 
the Record, as follows:

                            (By John Curran)

       Degas had his ballerinas, Monet his water lilies. For 
     Stephen Huneck, inspiration comes on four legs--its teeth dug 
     into a stick, or tugging on a piece of rope, or playing on a 
     beach.
       The eclectic Vermont folk artist, who started out whittling 
     wooden sculptures of dogs and now specializes in dog-themed 
     furniture, woodcut paintings and children's books, has carved 
     out a unique niche with his whimsical reproductions of 
     Labrador retrievers and other dogs.
       And his Dog Mountain studio and dog chapel--on a 
     picturesque 175-acre hillside farm in rural northern 
     Vermont--have evolved into a kind of doggy Disneyland, 
     drawing animal lovers and their pets from all over, and some 
     to mourn.
       To Huneck, dogs are more than man's best friend.

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       ``I really believe they're the great spirit's special gift 
     to mankind,'' said Huneck, 59. ``Dogs teach us more than we 
     teach them.''
       But his first lessons were tough ones.
       He was bitten by a German shepherd as a toddler, terrorized 
     by a St. Bernard on his newspaper route as a teenager and 
     left heartbroken once when his father bought a puppy for the 
     family--but took it back to the pound the next day.
       ``Through it all, I just loved dogs,'' he said.
       A longtime antique collector, the Sudbury, Mass. native 
     turned to art professionally in the early 1980s, using old-
     fashioned chisels, saws and planes to hand carve his first 
     few canine creations. Much of the basswood, cherry, maple and 
     pine he works with comes from his farm.
       His woodcuts--dogs with halos, dogs peaking out from under 
     bedcovers, dogs sniffing each other--brim with the 
     playfulness of a 6-week-old puppy. His sculptures and 
     furniture, meanwhile, range from his Angel Dog statues-- a 
     black lab with golden wings--to coffee tables with sculpted 
     dog likeness legs, from night tables with dog head handles to 
     rocking dogs.
       Dog lovers fairly hound him for commissioned works. His 
     client list includes actress Sandra Bullock (a dog sculpture 
     wedding present for her husband), Dr. Phil McGraw of TV talk 
     show fame (a drawing of his dog) and U.S. Sen. Patrick Leahy, 
     whose Washington, D.C., office is decorated with Huneck art.
       ``I think, to describe his work to someone who has never 
     seen it, you simply say `You have to see it, I can't describe 
     it to give it the credit it deserves,''' said R. Scudder 
     Smith, publisher of Antiques and The Arts Weekly, in Newtown, 
     Conn. ``It is too full of fun, imagination and talent to put 
     into words.''
       His books, including ``Sally Goes to the Beach,'' ``Sally 
     Goes to the Farm'' and the new ``Sally Gets a Job,'' feature 
     woodcut prints accompanied by simple, pithy captions that 
     celebrate man's unique relationship with dogs.
       ``Like a dog, he has no inhibitions,'' said Rob Hunter, 
     gallery manager for Frog Hollow Vermont State Craft Center. 
     ``He goes all over the place with his work. He has tapped 
     into that playfulness you get with a dog.''
       The dog chapel grew out of a bit of inspiration after his 
     1994 hospitalization with Adult Respiratory Distress 
     Syndrome, which nearly killed him. When he came out of it, he 
     says, he had a vision.
       ``I kept thinking what a great thing it could be, for 
     people not only to mourn the loss of a dog but to celebrate 
     nature and their relationships with their dogs,'' he said.
       Using wood harvested from his own property, Huneck modeled 
     the one-room chapel after 19th-century Vermont churches, with 
     vaulted ceilings, stained glass windows and wooden pews.
       Built at a cost of ``several hundred thousand dollars'' and 
     completed in 2000, it has stained glass windows with images 
     of dogs pieced into them.
       The wooden pew-style benches in the 30-by-22 foot main room 
     have one-dimension dog likenesses at either end that are so 
     realistic, Huneck says, that live dogs sniff their bottoms.
       Outside, a sign welcomes all: ``Welcome all creeds, all 
     breeds. No dogmas allowed.''
       ``I wanted the dogs to know this is their place,'' he says.
       It's also a place for their owners--many of them still 
     grieving over their loss, years later.
       The walls are covered in handwritten remembrances and 
     photographs left by owners. It's no accident: Paper and 
     pencils are stocked on a door near the entrance, next to the 
     statue of Artie the angel dog, a black Labrador with golden 
     wings.
       ``We came with Webster, to remember Boris,'' reads one. 
     ``He passed this week. He was a good dog and we will miss 
     him. Webster will miss him too. But our visit today will help 
     us all. Thanks. Cambridge, Mass.''
       Another: ``Roxie: you are the dog of my heart. You taught 
     me so much about life and love. Always, N.''
       Another: ``In memory of Rebel, our beautiful greyhound, who 
     died when I was giving birth to my daughter, Kyra.''
       ``I got this idea that I wanted people to be able to put up 
     pictures of their dogs and put up a short paragraph about 
     their dogs and that they could share that with other people 
     and that it would always be there,'' said Huneck. ``To my 
     great surprise, the place is almost completely, totally full 
     of photographs.
       ``It brings tears to your eyes, or you could start 
     laughing. It's just incredible insight,'' he said.
       Weddings and civil union ceremonies have been held in it, 
     although whenever someone makes such a request, Huneck and 
     his wife, Gwen, explain that the chapel has to remain open 
     for others while the ceremony is being held.
       The chapel, which is unheated and never closes, is busy and 
     full of life in summer and fall, but quiet, empty and solemn 
     on most winter days.
       ``It's just so unique,'' said Jennifer Goodman, 29, of 
     Boston, who made the three-hour drive to it last month, 
     accompanied by her boyfriend and her 7-year-old basset hound, 
     Beans.
       ``My friends were like `You're going to Vermont? Are you 
     going to go skiing?' I'm like, `No, we're going to a dog 
     mountain,' and no one quite understands it. We literally just 
     got here, checked into a hotel.''
       Twice a year, Huneck and his wife throw outdoor barbecues--
     with food for everyone, two legs or four.
       ``When dogs pull up in here, they may never have been here 
     before, but it's like they saw the `Disneyland' sign. They 
     just get so excited, so happy,'' he said.

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