Executed in a highly dynamic Cubist style, with multiple faceted views, the work nevertheless retains recognizable elements relative to its subject matter.

La Chasse is an oil painting on canvas with dimensions 123.2 by 99 cm (48.5 x 39 inches) signed "Albert Gleizes", lower right.

Spatial depth is minimized, the overall composition flattened, yet distances to the viewer are determined by the relationship of size; the further the object, the smaller in appearance.

Gleizes rarely painted still lifes, his epic interests usually finding sympathetic echos in more inclusive themes, such as La Chasse (The Hunt) and the monumental Harvest Threshing (Le Dépiquage des Moissons) of 1912.

[...] In his [1916] attempt to organize in plastic terms the abstract equivalent of his earlier broad panoramas, Gleizes reverted to the tilting planes reminiscent of smaller ones in such volumetric cubist works as The Hunt and Jacques Nayral, both of 1911.

(Daniel Robbins, Guggenheim, 1964)[3][4]Meetings at the studio of Henri Le Fauconnier include young painters who want to emphasise a research into form, in opposition to the Divisionist, or Neo-Impressionist emphasis on color.

Albert Gleizes, Jean Metzinger, Henri Le Fauconnier, Robert Delaunay, Fernand Léger and Marie Laurencin are shown together in Room 41 (Salle 41).

[5] The public is outraged by the apparent obscurity of the subject matter, and the predominance of the elementary geometrical shapes, which give rise to the term 'Cubism'.

[5][6][7][8] The term "Cubisme" is accepted in June 1911 as the name of the new school by Guillaume Apollinaire, speaking in the context of the Brussels Indépendants which includes works by Gleizes, Delaunay, Léger, Le Fauconnier and André Dunoyer de Segonzac.

Both are discontent with classical perspective, which they feel give only a partial idea of the subject matter as experienced in life, seen in movement and from many different angles.

Other artists join the Salle 41 group: Roger de La Fresnaye, André Lhote, Jacques Villon, Marcel Duchamp, František Kupka, Alexander Archipenko, Joseph Csaky and Francis Picabia, occupying rooms 7 and 8 of the salon.

He considers that Picasso and Braque, despite the great value of their work, are engaged in an Impressionism of Form, i.e., they give an appearance of formal construction which does not rest on any clearly comprehensible principle.

A figure nue by de la Fresnaye, which seems made with wooden bricks, and a mind-boggling Essai pour trois portraits by Fernand Léger.

From which it became clear that these paintings—and I specify the names of the painters who were, alone, the reluctant causes of all this frenzy: Jean Metzinger, Le Fauconnier, Fernand Léger, Robert Delaunay and myself—appeared as a threat to an order that everyone thought had been established forever.

While the newspapers sounded the alarm to alert people to the danger, and while appeals were made to the public authorities to do something about it, song-writers, satirists and other men of wit and spirit, provoked great pleasure among the leisured classes by playing with the word 'cube', discovering that it was a very suitable means of inducing laughter which, as we all know, is the principle characteristic that distinguishes man from the animals.

The painters accepted some of them and writers like Guillaume Apollinaire, Maurice Raynal, André Salmon, Alexandre Mercereau, the advocate-general Granié, supported them in their writings and in the talks they gave.

(Albert Gleizes, 1925)[11]In his review of the 1911 Salon d'Automne published in L'Intransigeant, written more as a counterattack in defense of Cubism, Guillaume Apollinaire expressed his views on the entries of Metzinger and Gleizes: The imagination of Metzinger gave us this year two elegant canvases of tones and drawing that attest, at the very least, to a great culture... His art belongs to him now.

Take the example of Portrait de Jacques Nayral, there is good resemblance, but there is not one form or color in this impressive painting that has not been invented by the artist.

When Léonce Rosenberg, whom Gleizes found the most sympathetic of the art dealers, offered to push up the price of his pre-war painting La Chasse, which was coming up for auction.