Ming was one of my cats. Today we had to put him to sleep-he had acute kidney failure. I use to go out into the garden and call to him and he would run in that cat-flow way, in a series of fluid bounds to my side. He would look up and lift one paw, his face full of light: the gold eyes in the orange and white fur. Ming means bright in Mandarin. I was totally smitten. I just loved him completely. I use to call him King Ming. He liked that.
This painting is called Wolff & Ming Late at Night. When I would get up in the middle of the night to pee I would think about death. After a while I started to think that I had a date with Death by the toilet every night. The minute I thought that I knew it was a painting. So it became, except I put Ming in with me. In the painting he is unfazed by Death's flamboyant appearance and under lit wing. He is totally cool about it all. I hope it was really like that for him.
