Kelly Dreams

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Kelly Dreams.

Oil on canvas.

By Cat Jones

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An Open Letter to Torie Bosch of Slate Magazine, concerning compassion

By Cat Jones

 

Hello,

I wanted to reach out to you after reading your apparently bitter article, “Wild Animals Do Not Need to be Saved From Fires,” regarding the man who saved the rabbit from the wildfire. I read what you wrote, initially thinking I was going to learn some useful advice about what animals DO need during a fire, since there are often occasions when mammals running around near the fire line are actually heroically trying to save their babies from the flames.* I thought maybe the intention of your piece was to educate people about that. But no. Your objective seems to have been simply to ridicule compassion. And I’d like to have a word with you about that.
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The hero in a hoodie put his own life at risk to save a widdle wabbit from the big fire,” you write. “The common response to this has been that his actions should renew our faith in humanity.” And then you go on to lecture us all about how foolish that is.
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In fact, yours is the all-too- “common response,” not the one that celebrates what this man did or the fact that a living being was spared suffering.
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With all due respect, when you put words into print, in the national media, you bear a certain responsibility to understand your subject before committing it to writing, simply because you are using a cultural megaphone, to which others do not have equal access. You are shouting over the top of pretty much everyone who does not have the privilege of being able to say their piece, say, in a column at Slate magazine. Thus, it feels important to share with you that recent science has finally acknowledged what the open heart has always known: that other animals have the same brain structures and chemistry that we do when it comes to the ability to think, to feel, to experience emotions, and especially relevant in this case, to suffer, and to experience joy and gratitude when suffering is alleviated.

Continue reading

Love and Art

As it is November, I focus upon celebrating abundance. And in that regard, my strange relationship with this uncommon boy springs right to the foreground.

Awhile back, I thought I’d given up on love. I couldn’t remember loving the living enough to even know what it is anymore. But somewhere along the way, having kept a tiny flame of faith in what it really is, rather than just what people say about it, I came to find it again with a boy who has been my best friend for years.

I’ve written before about this guy.  And I’m pretty sure there’s more than one painting of him somewhere on this site.  There are certainly plenty of them in my studio and on his walls. I met Daniel right after I moved to New York, when both of us were going through some “interesting” times, and we’ve been constant sidekicks, through thick and thin, since then. He’s been there for me, no matter what, every time I’ve needed him to be. Every time I’ve needed someone to talk to, someone to laugh with, someone to snuggle with, someone to wander with, someone to nerd out with, someone to play with, someone to provide needed perspective, someone to have grand adventures with, even someone to talk me off a ledge somewhere.

For someone who never studied Buddhism, he’s one of the best Buddhists I know. An excellent teacher, “an excellent finder,” and an excellent friend. Continue reading

Saratoga Ghost Horse Collection at Romaine Brooks Gallery

 

A few pics from last night’s show, where the Saratoga Ghost Horse collection showed on the last weekend of the killing season in Saratoga.

                                                                 A roomful of the good people from Horse Racing Wrongs showed up to support this project. 

One of the Ghost Horses from the collection.

 

Me and Lt Dan, my best buddy, sales rep, and all around bestie. 

Ghost Horse no. 12

Ghost Horse no. 12. 24 x 48″. Oil and whatnot on canvas.

 

Yesterday, yet another race horse died on the track at Saratoga. Sayonara Rose was only two years old, and she ran her heart out. Whipped and beaten, she was run to death, and died on her way back to be unsaddled. “Took a bad step, had to be euthanized,” according to the industry.

Often, when a horse dies running, 2 bit gamblers sitting in the bar swear at the horse  for not “winning,” while it lies dying on the track.

That’s horse racing.  End it.

Incidentally, in the afternoon that she died, a friend’s cousin sent me a series of snarky, dumb assed messages to tell me that I should not be speaking ill of the people who caused this horse, and the fourteen others who died in the past few weeks at Saratoga, because, as she stamped her foot and insisted, she LIVES in Saratoga, and some of those people are her FRIENDS.

So, in the event she reads this post: Your friends are assholes. Tell them to stop killing horses. And don’t you EVER send me another piece of propaganda falsely claiming those jerks “love” their horses. No they don’t. If that were true,  they would not be running them to death for their amusement and profit. And when the horses can no loner run, they would not be sent off to die in slaughter houses… like they are.

Anyway. This is the latest in the Saratoga Ghost Horse series, commemorating the dead.

The collection will be shown on September 1 at the Romaine Brooks gallery in Albany, New York. Please join me for the show.