The Liver is the Cock's Comb

Pip has been with the family 14 years, nearly half my life. During that time, she has done her best to be me - to sit in my chair, sleep in my bed, and imitate the rhythm and force of my step. It's probably cancer. She's too old for chemotherapy to be anything but cruelty. We've all adopted an "eat, drink, and be merry" policy in which we allow her the best spots and feed her more treats than she is generally allowed. She lets me pet her a lot because she's tired. Last night, I reach Ciro Koko's Kitten.

Continued working my way through boxes of old papers, and have now divested about half of the drawings I did from age zero to age seven, so that we're down to just the very best things. A lot of them remind me of Miro, Picasso, Albers, and Hofmann. So I guess that halfway answers why I tend to prefer contemporary art to older representational styles and have trouble understanding people who can't connect with it.