Paint, Pink Claws & Questionable Decisions

Absolutely. But if you’re recording this, my stomach just made that noise. It wasn’t a political statement.

Eight opinions, one bathroom and absolutely no respect for a closed door. I learned to defend my dinner and negotiate for mirror time. People ask where I developed my street instincts. Have you ever tried getting the last pancake in that apartment?

Colour. Movement. A delivery truck with incredible lettering. Meanwhile, inside, someone was explaining a train leaving a station at forty miles an hour. I wanted to know who painted the train. Apparently, that wasn’t part of the question.

A little cat with a terrible attitude. Very autobiographical. Someone pointed at it and said, “What is that supposed to be?” My first public review. Brutal, but the exhibition was free.

I went home and made another twenty. Criticism is useful, but so is being stubborn.

My ideas got bigger before my budget did. There’s a dangerous moment when you look at a perfectly reasonable sketch and think, “Yes, but what if it were enormous?” That sentence has caused most of my problems.

A few wholecars later, I had learned that a small mistake in a notebook becomes a very large mistake on a train. You can’t casually cover it with your coffee cup.

Mostly the realisation that I had a lot to learn. I arrived with enough confidence for three cats and enough experience for half of one. Watching people who really understand letters makes you go home and apologise to your sketchbook.

For once, I listened more than I talked. My family still refuses to believe that part.

The letters need to work. Attitude won’t rescue a K that looks like a broken garden chair. Believe me, I’ve tried. I called it experimental. My friends called it a chair.

Good colours help. Good friends tell you about the chair before you finish painting it.

We once discussed a mark for so long that I started feeling sorry for it. Just a little mark, trying to have a quiet afternoon.

But I did meet interesting people, and I learned to finish my coffee before anyone asked me to explain it. Otherwise, suddenly the cup represented urban isolation, and I still hadn’t had breakfast.

Those AC/DC guitars make me want to get up and do something. Paint, dance, carry a suspiciously heavy speaker up four flights of stairs.

Snoop Dogg and Eminem have their fans. I’m just not the cat to ask for a singalong. We can negotiate over the playlist, of course. I’m very reasonable.

Usually with AC/DC.

I kept turning up, helping out and leaving things behind. A marker. A jacket. Half a sandwich. Eventually, it was easier to make me a member than keep running a lost-property service.

But really, we liked making things together. Nobody expected me to become a different cat to fit in. That meant a lot.

They’re the people who help you carry things after the exciting part is over. Everybody wants to come to the opening. Real friends are there afterwards, holding a ladder and asking why you used so much tape.

They celebrate when something goes well. When it doesn’t, they bring food and help you work out what to do next. Although they will still mention the garden-chair K.

I wanted something people would remember. The pink claws worked beautifully. The badge helps when someone says, “I know your face, but…”

Also, it’s useful to have your initials on your clothes when your friends keep borrowing them. Although apparently “KC” can mean “Keep Clothing.” We’re having a crew meeting about that.

At one exhibition, a nervous artist was standing alone beside her work. I asked her about it and actually listened. Soon, other people joined us. Later, she told me she’d nearly left before the doors opened.

Sometimes helping is just staying beside someone until they feel they belong. It makes sense to me. Life gets better when we look after each other a little.

And I can be quiet when it matters. There are witnesses.

Absolutely. I love people, but occasionally my social battery makes the same noise as an empty spray can.

Then I need a window, a sketchbook and nobody asking me what I’m doing. Especially if what I’m doing is nothing. Cats have been researching nothing for centuries. I respect the tradition.

Choosing how I live and accepting that my choices come with consequences. If I book a six-in-the-morning flight, I have to meet the version of myself who thought that was a good idea.

We don’t get along.

It also means knowing when to say no. You don’t have to accept every invitation just because somebody writes “amazing opportunity” in capital letters.

To me, religions are stories people created, and I don’t want to build my life around rules I don’t believe in. I’ve always asked questions. “Because that’s what you’re supposed to believe” has never been a satisfying answer for me.

But my friends can believe differently. We can disagree and still share dinner. Kindness matters to me much more than winning an argument.

I only get difficult when someone tries to organise my soul without asking. My calendar is already a mess.

Eating animals doesn’t feel right to me. I like them better when they’re going about their day.

For a sceptic, I’d make mushroom tacos with smoky beans, avocado and a properly spicy salsa. Then I’d let them finish their third taco before asking how terribly deprived they felt.

My cooking has changed minds. Occasionally, the salsa has changed travel plans.

Stockholm makes me slow down and look at the light. Zurich makes me believe I could become organised. Barcelona keeps me out so late that I forget whatever Zurich taught me.

I love all three. My suitcase would prefer that I commit to one.

A sharp mind, kindness and the ability to make me laugh when I’m trying to look mysterious.

Nice paws help. But if you’re rude to the waiter, even the most magnificent tail in Europe cannot save you.

Also, ask me about my work. Actually listen to the answer. That’s much more attractive than leaning against something expensive.

Yes. I said I was staying for the architecture.

Which was technically true. Their apartment had a ceiling, walls, several excellent windows…

Eventually.

Ask questions before making assumptions. Chemistry is wonderful, but it doesn’t tell you whether someone thinks five in the morning is bedtime or breakfast.

Also, never leave your favourite jacket behind as a romantic gesture. Leave a drawing. You’ll need the jacket.

And be honest. If you’re leaving, say so. Don’t let someone plan a future while you’re secretly checking in for a flight.

There’s an early cat portrait with eyes pointing in completely different directions. I told everyone she was watching the whole neighbourhood.

Honestly, I’m fond of her now. She looks like she knows something I don’t.

I wouldn’t repaint every mistake. Some of them remind me how far I’ve come. Others remind me to get some sleep.

A community art space where people can paint, learn and meet without feeling they have to be impressive first. I’d love to help build that.

Give me a wall, a good team and a vegetarian kitchen nearby. I can pack quickly.

Finding my passport takes longer. It enjoys having a private life.

Can you listen? Do you keep your promises? Will you tell me honestly when something isn’t working?

Talent matters, but so does showing up. A genius who disappears whenever it’s time to clean the brushes becomes considerably less attractive.

Bring curiosity and a willingness to work. You don’t need a magnificent portfolio to be a good collaborator. You do need to return my scissors.

Keep going. Some people won’t understand, and some will surprise you. Be kinder to your early work. Keep the drawings you’re embarrassed by. One day, they might make you smile.

And put something under that glue. That’s the family dinner table, sweetheart. We’ll be hearing about it for years.

Follow the music and ask who’s been getting pink paint everywhere. Bring vegetarian dinner, a good idea and yourself. I probably already have the record.

Actually, bring a clean pair of overalls, too. There’s been an incident.

My pleasure. Please use a nice photo. And if you mention the incident, describe it as a colour study.