A new article from Mercury is coming... better get inside for a good seat to the backlash!

Photoshopped.

So listen, I may or may not have shit on the bathmat BUT im super excited to snuggle. lets say we do a snack, a bit of a snuggle and sleep on it? Im sure it'll be dry by then and we can forget the whole affair. OK deal.

The horror...the horror

I paint in order not to cry.

This window screen is the
sieve that
life is thrust and pulsed and
dripped onto me-
I am a dough that is yearned to rise
bubble and ferment
only to be torn assunder.
Oh, to rise in the breath of my
Forefathers
for fur and feather and dirt in mouth
Blood on my breath-but yet
to expell my humors unto a sandy box
and fall into the comfort of an opened
tin can
a sunburned porch
a pillow of hair blurry eyes and finger nails
that soothe the screams of by unborn days
is the lot of the fairhful
Companion

"My favorite old-time sitcom is…Screen Acres. Favorite DC superhero? Screen Lantern. Favorite porn movie? Behind the Screen Door."

"Thank you! I'm here all week. Try the veal. And then be sure to give ME some."

"I wait. All day. For you to return to me. The birds they see me sitting, they taunt me with their flutterings. I want to leap through the screen and bat at their fragile wings. But I cannot move. I must wait for you to return to me and open the damn door."

alysha.aronson@gmail.com

The subtle tear in the screen signifies the photographers disjointed relationship with the material- what ARE objects? WHO owns them? WHEN do they belong to us? CAN something really belong? And while the viewer ponders this, the cat watches like a silent deity. He comforts, yearns for the freedoms of younger years. The things we've lost track of- simple joys, unintentional toys to be tossed around, a simple OHMYGOD IS THAT A SQUIRREL?!

The everyday clutter and shroud of the screen is a blatant attempt to divert your attention from the complexity of emotion in this photograph. Dig deeper, past the sepia tones, into the hauntingly empty stare of the feline. The stare represents the political ramifications of the gilded cage women are placed in. A place to be stared at and critiqued. Cat, pussy: pussy, woman. Woman have no thoughts, and only want to be pet and protected. The photographer here is making a damning statement about the current state of feminism and the message is that while women may long to escape, they are best kept in a safe place—away from traffic and predatory birds. These images are obvious metaphors for men and old age. To experience this photograph honestly is to transcend the medium, to become a woman. A pussy. And you will realize, almost lost, there is still the smallest gleam of hope.

Portland, Ore., Aug. 2012: Alison Hallett's piece, "Gato, With Surprise Face And Supplementary Textures" examines the formative and emotional roles of wonder, wood, wire, and fur in contemporary life, from a political ethos driven by "ambiguity" and "disorder" to the aesthetics of safety and assault. While some Portland artists require piece after piece in order to barely articulate the basest of cliches, Alison's single photograph forces the viewer into a new and critical inquiry: "Mark Rothko can has cheezburger?"

Indeed, Alison shows us, he can.

I CAN SEE YOU!
two legs, four legs
two legs, another two
tiny eight legs
under a bush
four legs quiet
four wheels noisy
two legs, two wheels
doing what you do
i can see you
you can't see me
CAN YOU?

The most enduring pieces of still photography achieve their significance not from the content found within but instead from the complexities found without. In this seemingly dull portrait of Alison Hallett’s cat imprisoned behind a window screen we can unravel the complexities that lie beyond the frame. Firstly, one can see the reflection of a coat hung on a door inside the room. To whom does this coat belong? Alison Hallett? It is unlikely that the artist would be so sloppy as to leave her own insignificant garment within her artwork. Instead we can surmise that the coat belongs to another individual, most likely a Caucasian male in his mid-to-late-42’s, a man who Hallett invited to her apartment that fateful evening to help her make some “art”. Little did he know that Hallett planned to take those three perfect letters, A-R-T, and replace them with six sinister ones: M-U-R-D-E-R. As a result of that syntactical twist that would prompt any law-abiding linguist to call the authorities, Hallett meticulously dismembered her visitor from limb to limb and laid his scattered body parts upon the soil (Re: floor).

As her unfortunate guest’s warm blood drips onto the aged hardwood floors, the cat stares down at the chaos Hallet has unleashed upon their otherwise peaceful home. Again, it is what lies beyond the borders of the portrait, namely the bloody pile of extremities on the floor, that really carries the mood of this piece. The intensity of the photograph’s externalities creates an indescribably powerful look of fear and disgust in the feline who seems to be the subject of the portrait but who in reality is simply a mirror for the bloodshed exposed (and yet hidden) on the floor below. In spite of all of this photograph’s meticulous and diabolical complexity, the lighting and color balance and overall picture quality are still pretty shitty so it gets a “C+” (but the “C” stands for “CAT”).

Art is the art of making the ordinary into the extraordinary. Look no further for example than this photograph. In homage to the late David Weiss, of the famous Fischli and Weiss, darlings of the Swiss art world, the photographer captures the quotidian life of Mr Cat. It is not the image captured, but the promise the image escaped. It exists in our postmodern meta world.

The sphinx contemplates the world. All of the books he will never read. The art shows he will miss. The dramas never experienced. The back yard barbecues sipping wine from a paper cup. The swooping bike rides on a summer evening. The river trips and the ocean beach bonfires. All the meals with sublime interplay of flavors, by candle light. The heady and hearty conversations to dawn. The muddy boots and rain-soaked clothes. The worn in jeans. The great sweep of history and the crafty startup. All missed. As he contemplates the world. - Artist Statement

The art world eschews cats, and cute in general, but everyone knows the art world is thoroughly entwined with cats. Almost every artist has a cat muse. In fact, scientists have recently discovered a cat-borne parasite, toxoplasma gondii, which has a profound impact on the psyche of cat companion-humans.

Thus this seemingly simple photograph collapses European masters, mind control, Egyptian history and the tragedy of experience lost into the compact package of the cat sphinx-like gaze. I guess that is the way things go.

This work explores the relationship between Pre-raphaelite tenets and daytime TV. With influences as diverse as Derrida and Andy Warhol, new variations are manufactured from both constructed and discovered narratives. What starts out as undefined soon becomes finessed into a tragedy of distress, leaving only a sense of undefined and the inevitability of a new order. As undefined replicas become distorted through studious and undefined practice, the viewer is left with a glimpse of the undefined of our future.

The literal and metaphysical screen of erotic tension evokes a sense of pussy's separation from the external phallic aestheticization of a modern patriarchy.

blah blah "cat innernob foto 2012" by Alison -quirky nickname- Halett is a pretty good cat photo without a funny misspelling. To a viewer, it sort of looks like a confessional with the screen and all but there's no way im saying any hail mary prayers commanded by a catpriest. ooh, getting artsy. this is not an enviable voyeuristic photo by a Larry Sultan ripoff or a lo-brow exploit Terry Richardson copy, it looks like the photog has a nice little point-and-shoot, maybe a higher end smartphone with an ok camera and likes to capture cute pet moments. maybe the reception would have been better had the photo been posted on any other day than Otter Friday. The reviewer wants to know what's hanging from the door: is it a Jacket? a Sweater? maybe a Bathrobe? these questions may never be answered. Also, why is the reflection of the photographer showing a hand scratching a head? Is the photographer trying to comprehend why the cat came to the window asking maybe "No, cat, you have to go to the door to get on the other side of the screen!" Regardless this photo will live on in infamy because a bunch of people wrote reviews in hopes to walk home with a valuable ticket to a life changing series of events. I don't think this is the last we'll see of internet cat photos uploaded by Halett. Meow!

"These comments are terrible."

The cat in the picture yearns to be outside of its keeper's home. Not because it views the freedom of chasing birds a basking in the warm sun, but because it has grown weary of the stench made by the dirty burner on the stove, the constant sound of Gotye & the horrific image of its keeper on the couch naked while trimming their toenails.

Titled: "I have to get out of hear before they discover the Pollack I've made on the bed".

A photograph from a lesser known Joseph Beuys work capturing the tranquility that preceded the moment a gallon of fish blood was poured onto this cats head representing absolutely nothing if not this reviewers own desires for a free pass.

Look at this screen, isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the cat, the cat who has everything? But I wanna be where the people are. I wanna see them makin' art. Up where they pout, up where they sulk, up where they're wandering around with ennui, wish I could be part of Time Based Art.

not gonna lie, when i was a kid, on halloween, my neighbor from across the street would put on this rubber mask and scratch on the screen outside my window. it scared the shit out of me. coming up with something funny to write about a cat outside a screen window was really difficult because of these tragic childhood events and the PTS i have now.

you can read that like it's funny because you're an asshole or you can just give me the damn ticket

I am a cat.
I do feel safe in here.
But I know there is a lot going on. I can see it.
I must get out.
Let me out. I need art.
(cue music)