Nina Paley

My cat, George, destroyed my favorite artwork, “Air,” a white wholecloth art quilt stretched like a canvas to heighten its sculptural qualities, like a frieze. I made it with a domestic sewing machine in New York. It depicts a nude. The model was me.

George has apparently been climbing up this quilt like he climbs up window screens.

I caught him near the top this morning, hanging onto the nude’s face by his claws. He dropped down, leaving a scratch so large some batting came out of it. Claw holes are evident all over the piece.

When I made “Air” in 2011, I partly wanted to preserve an image of my youth. I wasn’t all that young then — 43, actually — but I was aware as ever that I was only going to look worse from there. I often imagined my future self, aged and decrepit, recalling my younger firmer body. Better make a marker in time to facilitate that, I thought. And here I am today, behaving exactly as predicted.

Is my quilt ruined? Or is it still in progress, like my body itself? Perhaps George isn’t its destroyer but a collaborator, adding his own marks to my former image.

George is destructive. Cori calls him “terrorist.” He’s a naughty cat.

Also I love him. Should I waste energy being mad?  George’s arrival after my beloved cat Lola’s departure was the only bright spot in a horrible year, clarifying that love was more important than order, clean rugs, or intact artworks. “Air” might be ripped up, but my heart isn’t…Actually my heart is; Lola and Momo left claw marks all over it. But unlike the quilt, my heart regenerates. Scarred, sure, but it only gets bigger, making ever more room for more cats and their claw holes.

My body, aging and decrepitizing as it is, also regenerates. It’s falling apart faster than it’s rebuilding, but it has a long way to go before it’s ruined beyond repair. Maybe I should let George keep ripping up “Air”. Maybe it can serve as a protective charm, like the Picture of Dorian Gray. Let my image be ruined while my actual body lives.

Coincidentally I just installed another white wholecloth quilt stretched on a frame, “Shiva Natraj,” at a friend’s house (without pets). Shiva represents destruction and creation. George entered my life when Lola left. I would have clung to Lola forever, but cats die, like all living things. Whatever is created is destroyed. Lola is gone; George is here. Someday George will be gone and if I’m still alive and able, another kitten will be coming up right behind him. That’s how life works: not through eternal preservation, but through regeneration.

Yes, I think I’ll leave “Air” where it is, to become a scratching post for George. Whatever is created is destroyed. That goes for me, and George, and every living thing, and every physical thing, and Art.

The first half of 2025 was possibly my Worst Year Ever. It started with a depressive episode. While that was going on, my furnace broke very expensively during a severe cold snap. Despite psychic pain, I managed to make some drawings and produce these pins for my podcast co-host Cori Cohn.

Then I got sick.

I was sick for over a month. Then I got more sick.

Then I had my birthday and got more sick and went to the hospital where they gave me a chest CT scan which came back with a diagnosis of Bronchiectasis.

I accepted my new life as an immunocompromised (thanks to Skyrizi, the treatment I take for Crohn’s Disease) chronically ill (Bronchiectasis is progressive and incurable, as is Crohn’s) gimp and applied for Disability, which introduced me to the SSDI Blue Book, a compendium of maladies that beset the human body.

While I was sick, my cat Lola was sick too. It was a very dark time, trying to clean up her litterbox accidents while barely able to breathe and take care of myself. My other cat Momo wasn’t doing too well either, on Prednisone for his own alleged Crohn’s Disease (which was probably intestinal cancer, it turned out). Lola had some inflammatory bowel disease too. How did my entire household get IBD? Possibly Covid in 2023 ruined all 3 of us.

My friend Danny, who is a doctor, told me nebulizing saline helps with bronchiectasis. Another friend, Martha, contacted me with tips on equipment after I posted about my condition on fecebook. Thanks to the two of them I got myself huffing sodium chloride long before I would have otherwise. None of my own doctors knew about this way of managing bronchiectasis, which is a somewhat rare disease although diagnoses are increasing since Covid.

Managing my health became my full-time job. I made T-shirts. I made a video about how to nebulize saline. And, miraculously, I improved. I gradually returned to bicycling. I thought I’d never ride a century again, but I did on June 9.

So I withdrew my disability application. But I committed to illustrating the SSDI Blue Book, as a way of working through what had happened to me and living with chronic illnesses.

My cats unfortunately fared worse. Lola died in June. Her death was devastating. What an awful year.

After a few weeks of grieving I volunteered to “foster” a kitten, George. Predictably I fell in love and adopted him a few days later. That was about when the year stopped being exclusively horrible. It was still horrible, but some joy had entered.

Momo died in August.

That was the last truly horrible thing that happened in 2025, although I was almost hit by a car as a sort of “parting shot”.

Shortly thereafter I adopted another kitten as a companion for George, and named him Ira, after the brothers Gershwin. Their full names are George Oxytocin Paley and Ira Squigglewhiskers Paley. They continue to fill me with joy.

I pretty much stopped blogging around this time. I have been content to watch and play with my beautiful, affectionate, rapidly-growing kittens (they’re quite big now), ride my bikes, huff saline, and, now that it’s winter, draw those SSDI Blue Book illustrations. I have retreated more from the world. Being immunocompromised, I avoid indoor spaces, which rules out much travel and winter socializing. I wear a mask when grocery shopping and otherwise in indoor public; I’m “one of those people” now. I’m getting used to it. I guess I’ve done most of the hard work of grieving, and am at the “acceptance” stage.

It is a miracle, what we can adapt to. Kittens are a miracle too. It seems crass to “replace” a loved one, but that is how Life works: the old die, and new are born. I know George and Ira will die someday; no matter how many years we get it will be too soon. Death is built into life. But more life is built in too, and that is why we have kittens, always more individuals coming into the world as others exit.

The main thing I learned from the hell of this year is: Love is the only thing that makes life bearable.  Thanks to George and Ira, my life is not just bearable, but joyful. I’m also grateful for my health, which I feared I’d never get back. As long as I huff saline daily and avoid communicable pathogens, I’m quite fit! Maintaining my health has been a huge blow to my lifestyle, but I am adapting, as we all do.

Throughout the year I continued to make the Heterodorx podcast with Cori Cohn. He’s also had a terrible year, and is still struggling through depression. I wish him, and you, and everyone, more joy in 2026!

Photos after the break. Continue reading “My 2025 Year In Review”