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Don't know your gaskin from your fetlock? Never mind, go to the Frick anyway for a show that in just seventeen paintings manages to convey the fabulous weirdness of the eighteenth-century English artist George Stubbs.
Stubbs has been known since his own day as a horse painter, the greatest ever. He wore the honor like a hair shirt, aware that it was what had brought him success with the horsy British aristocracy, and yet wanting desperately to be taken seriously as a history painter. But you look at his efforts in that genre and find yourself saying, inevitably, "Aren't the horses good?" Excluded from the founding fellowship of the Royal Academy, Stubbs smarted ...