“Critters” is a mammoth show at the University of New England’s Portland campus that fills all three floors of the gallery, the foyer and the grounds — even flowing out to Stevens Avenue. It includes about 300 works by almost 100 artists.

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In the “Critters” exhibition at the Art Gallery at the University of New England in Portland: “Duster” by Andrew Rosen. Photos by Daniel Kany

In the “Critters” exhibition at the Art Gallery at the University of New England in Portland: “SweaterDogs” by Kitty Wales.

In the “Critters” exhibition at the Art Gallery at the University of New England in Portland: ceramic teapots by Meryl Ruth.

Curated by Nancy Davidson (a grande dame of Maine art), “Critters” features major artists such as William Wegman, Dahlov Ipcar, Bernard Langlais and Cabot Lyford — but also everyone else.

The exhibition is overwhelming, but in a way that I like. If you can’t see everything, sometimes it’s easier to focus on the works you enjoy.

It’s an amazing show for children (my boys, who are 6 and 9, even asked me to take them back), but I can’t imagine there are many adults who won’t discover something exciting and new to them as well.

This is a kind of exhibition that seems familiar but is actually stunningly rare: a huge show that encompasses everything — painting, sculpture, craft and kitsch by big names and those less known — organized by a savvy, experienced and sophisticated curator.

Davidson both has an eye for great art and sensibilities that are open to fun and witty kitsch. I admire this about her. With her resume, she doesn’t have to prove herself to anyone or be afraid that snobbier types won’t approve of her ability to confidently include humble or even lowbrow entries.

Stepping into the gallery, I first saw a stuffed-animal-sized wool owl. Not only was it charming (and insanely affordable), it also quietly revealed that Carolyn Heasly has a sophisticated sculptural sense informed by Brancusi.

The very next thing I noticed was Kitty Wales’ incredible, edgy pair of dogs made of old sweaters, aggressively claiming their own space (and thus proving that “craft” can be as fierce as any art). Centered behind the toothy duo is Justin Richel’s subtle and breathlessly light “Plume” of gouache and cut paper birds whispering up the gallery’s center wall.

Between these works is a terrific William Wegman (“Waiting for Water”) showing his dogs clustered on a tiny rocky outcrop that clearly becomes an island when the tide comes in. (But alas, the tide is out, so the premature intimacy cuts with unexpectedly dramatic wit.)

From the moment you enter the gallery, you are surrounded by “critters.” Birds float above you and animal eyes peer at you from pedestals, paintings, the floor and everywhere else.

Considering Davidson’s experience with “critter” shows, the effect is surely not by chance. The animals have taken over the space, and you see the show less as the privileged viewing audience assumed by most gallery exhibitions and more as a visitor passing through their realm — maybe on an art safari.

Spaces crammed to the gills with art are usually defined by a retail flair, but “Critters” is no showroom floor. Much of the show’s appeal is that it actually feels like a collector’s personal space, where art is displayed to be enjoyed rather than bolted to ivory pedestals like so many snob-worthy trophies.

One drawback of a show dedicated to fun is that quick viewing will fool you. Barbara Sullivan’s sculpted painting of an Airedale in front of his doghouse doesn’t necessarily shout out that Sullivan is one of the few highly accomplished fresco painters in America (painting on wet plaster, like Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel ceiling).

Also, Meryl Ruth’s teapots are hard to pick out as teapots even when you know what they are. Two pugs in a handbag doesn’t usually bring to mind the centuries of refined respect tied to the fascinating Japanese ritual of tea ceremony.

Certainly there were plenty of works that didn’t impress or interest me, but none is notable, except maybe the three car doors leaned against the outside of the building.

My favorite piece in the show is Andrew Rosen’s “Duster,” a giant cyborg bunny motorcycle tilted into a low turn. It’s hilarious, fun and smart. And it’s excellent sculpture. (My boys voted this “best in show” and suggested it should replace “Tracing the Fore” — I agree.)

I don’t have the space to list all my favorites, but some of them are Wendy Newcomb’s terrifyingly intriguing “Catbird” painting; Tacha Vosburgh’s masterful ceramic lizard vessels; Nantz Comyns’ hilariously maniacal “funky chickens”; Siri Beckman’s powerful mountain goat; Dan Falt’s strikingly brutal hyenas; Bernard Langlais’ brutally spare seated dog; Pamela Murphy’s canvases (especially her Wyeth-esque cat against a gorgeously gray-textured wall grinning at a threatening shadow); and Elizabeth Ostrander’s anxiously anthropomorphized ceramic rabbit.

As humble and fun as “Critters” is, curator Davidson is arguing some serious points about art, craft and kitsch with this show. She even seems to give us a hint why the Portland Museum of Art Biennial jurors didn’t dare to include freestanding sculpture: because sculpture now has no boundaries from craft — and many discriminating art types haven’t caught up with that yet.

This is an entertaining show for anyone, but it will probably be most challenging for those with calcified definitions of art.

“Critters” is a wonderful show. It is fabulous, flawed, fantastic, furry — and unforgettable fun.

Freelance writer Daniel Kany is an art historian who lives in Cumberland. He can be contacted at:

dankany@gmail.com

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