Nice people and cats.

OK I'm not gonna lie, these last few weeks I have been grumpy as hell (sorry about that everyone). But nothing cheers me up like nice people and cats, and this week I got both. Amongst other things, I had the pleasure of tattooing one of these Louis Wain paintings on my lovely client Sally, who will eventually have a whole sleeve of them, with a view to possibly filling the other arm too. I think more people should get tattoos of cats, because I am having way too much fun with these.

The day I did this fiddle-playing kitty was a particularly memorable one; right before I started it my very dear friend Carrie had a baby boy and named him Austin, which is also my beautiful grey cat's name. That day was also notable for my boss Jane tattooing Sinead O'Connor (who was dagging out in trackies and ugg boots) in the booth next to me, and Mariachi El Bronx playing a headline show for the Melbourne Arts Festival, which I attempted to enjoy despite not being in the mood for the rowdy drunks in front of me.

 

 
Another tattoo I enjoyed this week was this delicate leaf on Kate, one of the gorgeous waitresses from Dukes, my local coffee shop. I had been cancelled on for about the squillionth time, and I was broke and miserable so went to get a coffee and have a grizzle about it. Being the wonderful lady that she is, Kate took pity on my sorry soul and arranged for both herself and  fellow Dukes customer Jade to get tattooed by me that afternoon. I didn't get a photo of Jade's lightning bolt, but doing both these tattoos brightened my week, as did sharing a drink with them both after work. Thanks you guys.

Louis Wain

English illustrator Louis Wain was my kinda guy. The man liked to draw cats...I mean he really liked to draw cats. Shitloads, and shitloads, and shitloads of cats.

 A diagnosed Schizophrenic, who most likely was actually suffering from the more benign Asberger Syndrome, his story is rather a charming one. Already working as a freelance illustrator, Wain's obsession with depicting cats reportedly developed at the age of 23 when his wife developed breast cancer. To entertain and amuse his beloved on her deathbed, he would draw amusing cariacatures of their cat Peter, and teach him to perform tricks. This was followed by commissions for children's books, and later newspaper illustrations in which he depicted cats in anthropomorphic situations. These proved immensely popular, and he enjoyed fame and success for the next two decades with his drawings of cats appearing in books, papers, journals, postcards and ads.

Unfortunately like most artists Wain was not a great businessman, and after making several poor investments he ended up bankrupt. With no money and the popularity of his art dwindling, he finally succumbed to his deteriorating mental health and was admitted to an asylum at the age of 64.  Luckily for him, a visitor to the hospital spotted him drawing one day and recognised the distinctive cats as those of the legendary artist. Appalled that he would live out his final years in a public asylum, she alerted the public and started a campaign to have him relocated to a private, more pleasant facility so he could live out the rest of his days in comfort. Thanks to his loyal fans, this was able to happen and he continued to make cat art until his very last days.

 

"He made the cat his own. He invented a cat style, a cat society, a whole cat world. English cats that do not  look and live like Louis Wain cats are ashamed of themselves."  H.G. Wells.