⭐ How I Started Painting Cats

(A backstory no one asked for, but everyone deserves.)

Before the cats took over my life — and my studio, and my bed, and my sanity — I used to paint abstract trees. Acrylic, modern, a little Japanese influence. Very calm. Very serene. Very “I drink herbal tea and listen to wind chimes.”

Then I started doing the Palm Springs Vintage Market with my friend Susan.

Susan, for context, is a vintage hoarder with a gift. She can spot a mid‑century treasure from 40 feet away while holding a coffee and a conversation. Her grandmother collected vintage. Her mother collected vintage. Susan collects vintage. It’s generational at this point.

So there we were at our first market in October 2024 — her booth overflowing with mid‑century housewares, jewelry, clothing, glass, and things that probably belonged in a museum. And then there was me… with my abstract trees.

Let’s just say the trees did not fit in. At all.

I sat there for two markets selling exactly one item. One. Uno. A single, lonely piece of art that probably sold out of pity.

After the second market, I had a moment. A quiet, reflective, soul‑searching moment. (Okay, fine — I had a meltdown in the car.)

I went home, did some research, and discovered something magical:

Mid‑century cat art.

Bold shapes. Strong colors. Attitude. Whiskers. Everything I love, minus the trees that no one wanted.

I thought, “Hey, I love cats. They look easy to learn.” (They were not easy to learn. They still aren’t. I forget tails and whiskers more often than I’d like to admit.)

But I tried it. And something clicked.

The first cat painting sold. Then the second. Then the third. People started coming to the booth asking, “Do you have more cats?” (They also asked, “Do you do dogs?” but I pretend I don’t hear that.)

Suddenly, I wasn’t the guy with the abstract trees anymore. I was the cat guy. The vintage‑inspired, mid‑century‑leaning, bold‑color cat painter.

I changed my entire website. I changed my entire art direction. I changed my entire life, apparently, because now my studio is my bedroom and my coworkers are three long‑haired cats who think they run the place.

And honestly? I’m having the time of my life.

So that’s how it happened. Not a grand artistic epiphany. Not a spiritual awakening. Just a man at a vintage market realizing his trees weren’t cutting it and deciding to paint cats instead.

Best questionable decision I’ve ever made.

Meow for now,

Jeffrey