Through a combination of circumstance, opportunity and inclination I've found myself drawing Cats recently. Maybe the effect of the Internet is rubbing off in a subtle psychology? Or maybe it's because I own a Cat, and I don't have to hunt too far to find subject matter? Either way - that's what I've found myself doodling, and then developing.  

My scribble style is fun using ink and charcoal - each mark leaving a sense of what was before, then making up its mind as to what is, right now, right here - and saying so. With ink the decisions are scratched onto the paper, building up the Cat with look and re-look. A detailed argument of what is staring me in the face. Charcoal is looser - saying as much by where it shys away from, with different sticks, pencils and blocks adding texture and debate to what is discovered on the page. 

The enigma that Cats are suits this back and forth of a style. One moment languid and settled - pouncing at thin air the next; demanding food - but only this or that food, then needing to go out; curling up affectionately on your lap, but turning on a laser beam of disgust if you dare to stop stroking for a second. 

The inability to pigeon-hole the subject makes the challenge. My drawings offer an interpretation of the subject surely, but that viewing is not always worked out. More often it is in the drawing that thought takes place, that I come to see, to feel the emotion, or sense of what I am doing.  

Then there's always the additional pressure of time - Cats rarely stay still for long - especially when they know you want them to. The right look, the right pose - these come in glances - quick marks, cheeky photos, a process that earns the Cats' amusement and contempt. As a Cat owner I am used to this masochism, and have come to terms with this unequal relationship. 

Still, there's always Art.