Dead Cat

Dead Cat
After my meditation session last Sunday, I saw a dead cat under a tree with all its entrails. I was shocked and horrified...I wanted to take a photograph of it to do art, but I did not, partly because I was scared for some unknown reason, and partly because I thought I had given up on drawing dead animals and had moved on to art that is more life-affirming and less depressing. The image haunted me for a week. Of course, when I walked past the tree this afternoon, the dead cat was no longer there.

Earlier this year, I was working on a series of dead birds, which turned out to be rather unsucessful. The works were based on the same photograph of a dead bird which had mysteriously lost its head. My works have often been labelled as morbid or depressing because they are black and they dwell on the darker side of life. Nonetheless, the dead cat screamed out at me 'This is art! This is the very substance of life itself!' I regretted not taking photographs of the dead cat, though I must admit that the entrails were too gory and revolting for anyone to bear. I wonder if the cat had died as a result of human cruelty or simply a case of bad labour. I suspect it was the latter, for who in the right mind would dissect a cat like this, except for the purpose of demon-worship?