Drawing Cats

"It is only by drawing often, drawing everything, drawing incessantly, that one fine day you discover to your surprise that you have rendered something in its true character." ~ Camille Pisarro

It is a good day when I learn something new. And sometimes I have to seek that learning out.

I never really took art classes in high school. Photography here, calligraphy there, but never any traditional art classes. I feel that I missed out on a lot.

This year I have a desire to learn to draw. So I signed up for Jeannie's Drawing Lab. (It's not too late to join in the fun.) What I think is most brilliant about this course is that we are building a community. We have all come to learn to draw but I think that we will gain much more than how to put marks on paper.

I went out and bought a sketchbook and some pencils. My sketchbook has one side with lines and the other side with blank pages. I want to write and draw in there, noting what I like about the assignment, what is challenging, what memories it triggers. Those pages, both sides, are quite daunting to me. But I know that I have nothing to fear and the support of people who are just like me. So I dove right into the first assignment. To draw cats.

Now, if you know me or you pay attention, you will know that I don't have a very favorable history with cats. Or birds. Or squirrels. But those are stories for another day. My experience with animals started with the stripey cat we picked out at the pound when I was about 5. I wanted to name her Pinnochio. My mom decided we would name her Tiger.

Tiger was a beautiful cat. And I suspect that I was like most kids in that I wasn't always gentle or careful with Tiger. I never did try to dress her up in doll clothes like my mom did with all her cats, though.

I had a basement bedroom in the house at 6609 43rd Avenue North in Crystal, MN. My parents built the wall that finished the family room from my bedroom. Except that there was no window in this room, so it really had no egress in case of disaster. That could be why I have to have it nearly pitch dark when I go to sleep to this day.

There wasn't a lot of money, and the wall that was built had little soundproofing. And in a coup of thriftiness, my father covered the entire wall with burlap. Inexpensive and textural. It was the 70s, after all.

Now that might be a nice style statement for any ranch home but for a home with a cat and her claws it was like a ride at Disneyworld. Every chair in our house was a fluffy tuft of shreds. Even the royal blue and lime green paisley couch. It was not uncommon to come into the room to see Tiger clinging to the wall in her attempt to reach the summit. She was always caught in the act and yanked from the wall and scooted out of the room.

So it should come as no surprise the night that I was attacked by Tiger. In the dark. In my room on the other side of the burlap wall, with no lights and no way out.

Tiger climbed the wall in the family room and popped the ceiling tile. Once at the top, our burly feline decided to explore the crawl space. But the foam tiles couldn't support her weight. And she came crashing down. On top of my bed on the other side of the burlap wall.

Now Tiger was pretty freaked out. I can attest that it is true that cats when falling land on their feet. She landed on her feet, but those feet had claws that immediately grabbed hold of what was beneath them. That would be me. I recall a lot of hissing and scratching and tears. Every time I tried to move, or whimper, Tiger would proceed to use me as a scratching post and protect her kill. Again, that would be me.

When I didn't come upstairs in the morning, my mother came downstairs and opened my cave door. Tiger ran out. I was frozen in bed. With a lot of scratches. But no more tears. And a lot less love for my kitty.

Eventually, we realized that the reason that I sneezed every single day all day long (dad, too) was because we were allergic to Tiger. At least that is what they told me when they took Tiger away. In a cooler. I remember crying about it that Tiger would suffocate. My dad popped the drain plug for air. That was the last I saw of my attack cat who went to live on a farm. At least that is what they told me. I can't say that I miss the fear that I felt with Tiger around after that incident. And I am still allergic to cats to this day, so that part was completely true. But I still appreciate the beauty of cats. However, I am baffled as to why when I go to someone's house and I ignore their cats they want to cuddle right into my lap, sleep on my pillow and rub all over me. I just don't get it.

Okay. So that wasn't the nicest story about a cat, but it is true and it is the roundabout reason why I found this task of drawing cats a huge challenge. I did stick drawings (cats with duck feet!) and then started focusing on the elements of the cat that struck me the most. The eyes. I love cat eyes. They freak me out. In a good way. Here is one of my drawings that I feel okay about. And it helps me recall what was beautiful about Tiger.

 

I think that this drawing lab will be fun.
And don't you think these little stories will be enhanced by my own artwork? :-)

What are you favorite cat stories? Did you have cats when you were growing up? Or maybe they make your eyes itch and your nose twitch? Can you appreciate their lampwork glassy eyes and their colorful coats? The way they can find any sliver of sunlight and nap all day long? Their inquisitiveness and their aloofness? Do tell!

Enjoy the day!