...and debatably; art what ain’t art; I renounce that to the eye of the beholder. I encountered a medieval painting of a “cat,” which carried with it limitless hilarity; he/she/it resembled not – even in the smallest degree – Theo...or any other cat I have yet glimpsed for that matter. A Google search yielded finds likewise peculiar. One friend hypothesised that artists hadn’t grasped how to...grasp implements such as paintbrushes or palate knives; another – similarly to me – that it is an unattainable endeavour to persuade a cat to remain immobile; however, I have ultimately contemplated the unavoidable inference that these people just didn’t like cats!
I deviate from my, by now predictable, self-indulgent observations; many of which concern art, to bring the reader yet new – and I use the term loosely – (medieval cat) art.
Untainted conjecture: this guy strayed from his path to the forest moon of Endor.
Scientists err and lament, "we shall NEVER combine catnip and steroids AGAIN."
This guy is in attendance at a fancy dress party where each and every cat is...Salvador Dali.
Language has deserted me...I mean really deserted me...I mean...what...what the...what the fluff??!?
At times like this, one apprehends the horror that one has imbibed too much catnip.
When cats pump iron.
“There is a time in every man's education when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better, for worse, as his portion...”. To wit: jeezaloo man; just be content with being a dog!
This masterpiece was daubed by the very same woman in Spain whose restorative tour de force, Ecce Homo graces the Sanctuary of Mercy Church (h/t for this description: JAC).
Here is a link to the news story of that atrocity: http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/world-europe-19349921