The Muse Creatures in Art World

Preface

This exhibition was born out of intuition—conceived on November 19, and realized online

in early December. Just a few weeks ago, while preparing an interview, I removed a photo of an artist and her beloved dog, leaving only the “standard” documentation of artworks and exhibitions.

Yet afterwards, I found myself questioning: Why must professionalism often be built upon the exclusion of the personal, the tender, and the real?

This exhibition grew precisely out of that deleted moment. Since we genuinely love the flora and fauna around us, why not allow these behind-the-scenes muses of the art world to step proudly into the spotlight? I reached out to several artists and curators whom I sensed might keep pets—and the responses surprised and moved all of us.

People in the art world are sensitive, and therefore more capable of perceiving the

preciousness of animals. Their forms, gestures, and ways of being often ignite our aesthetic awe and emotional resonance. Living with animals—our affection, dependence, delight and grief—pushes us to reflect on joy, eternity, memory, loss, and existence.

To recognize that all beings possess spirit allows us to become more perceptive, humble,

tender, and brave. And it is through animals that we glimpse ourselves more clearly.

Welcome to The Animal Muses of the Art World. They wait beside our desks, sleep at our

feet, run with us freely—or exist in another form, within the territory of memory.

This small, ungrand, incomplete online exhibition is dedicated to those who love and care

for animals.

To every eternal animal muse who has accompanied us.

Curator

Zelene Jiang Schlosberg

Dec. 1, 2025

Pan Kaizhang — "Me and Little White"

Little White looks like a small white pig, and even sounds like one. Elderly women in the

neighborhood often think I’m walking a pig. Except that this “pig” wiggles his butt—perhaps because he has no tail—and must wiggle urgently to show friendliness.

He appears in every corner of my studio while I work. Sometimes he looks at me with

innocent eyes—full of curiosity, purity, and the desire to be loved. In those eyes is a kind of spirituality shared by all creatures. I often wonder—what fate binds us? Was our encounter inevitable or accidental? I may never know, but he came into our family and changed us.

I sometimes paint animals—mostly stray cats. They carry independence, distance,

loneliness, and a faint bitterness. They remind me of Xu Wei, Bada Shanren, Van Gogh,

Kafka. I rarely paint dogs, but when I paint Little White, I paint only him—no metaphors,

only closeness. Stray cats keep their distance; dogs trust and depend—they arrive like old friends.

I choose to live with a dog, but watch stray cats from afar. The dog is my partner against

loneliness; the stray cat is a version of myself, wandering elsewhere.

Artist Bio:

Pan Kaizhang (b.1980, Fujian). Graduated from China Academy of Art, specializing in figure painting. His personal “psychic realism” merges animals and everyday scenes into theatrical narratives, using swift linework and layered textures to express raw vitality—wild, humorous, tender, heavy with life.

Yu Aijun —"My Feline and Canine Friends"

I firmly believe that people who keep cats and dogs should avoid buying and selling

them—just adopt, especially those who have been abandoned.

Brother Shang is an orange tabby, originally found by a friend who already had two cats.

She raised him for a while and then gave him to me, so I am at least his third owner. The vet confirmed he was healthy, neutered, and around two years old when he arrived—now he has lived with me for nearly three years.

Before I leave home, I often tease him: “Come on, shall we go for a walk together?” But he

retreats inside and hides. He is timid but lively—he can open the fridge and cupboards, so I had to install locks. At night he sleeps at the corner of my bed.

I often think of the first kitten I adopted years ago—she passed away due to illness after two months. I was inexperienced then. My WeChat avatar is still her. Thinking of her brings sadness, making me treat Brother Shang with extra care.

My work requires frequent travel. I worry when I’m away, rushing home as soon as I can.

Once I was gone for a month—when I returned he didn’t blame me, only purred beside me all night. He is gentle and respectful—never leaves fur on my desk chair, never destroys anything.

Occasionally I feel he looks at me with mild contempt, but perhaps it is just my imagination.

In 2009 I also rescued a dog abandoned by a neighbor—he died in a car accident on April 28, 2018, around 8 p.m. I remember clearly.

Those who adopt animals may understand—feelings between humans and animals are

pure, unlike complex human relationships. If there is an afterlife, I hope to return as a dog

or cat who is never abandoned—deeply loved by the person I love.

Artist Bio:

Yu Aijun, graduated from Luxun Academy of Fine Arts Oil Painting Department (2004), currently based in Shenyang. He views individual creation as the endpoint of social movement—freedom as limitation, self as other. His practice explores personal-collective tensions with humor and contradiction, using imagery, materials, and perceptual unmasking to evoke the “moment experience is questioned,” generating political reflection and media imagination.

Zelene Jiang Schlosberg — "When I Met the Right Cat"

I met the right cat, and softly whispered her name—Lily.

She is Cat Chui-chui, Cat Hei-hei, Cat Di-di, Cat Zi-zi, Cat Ding-ding, Cat Qiang-qiang—a black piano cat.

She is Her Majesty the Queen, a bird perched on my shoulder, a trembling mouse hiding under the bed when thunder strikes.

Her short velvet fur melts like ice cream at a touch, yet beneath it ripple lean muscles.

Standing in the corner she is a tiny warrior; curled on the bed, a black comma; a stretched body on the floor—she blooms like a poppy. At the window, eyes fixed with full intensity on rustling leaves and birdsong, she is a little scientist destined for Harvard.

A few years ago, Lily—still a tiny kitten—entered our life. Her beauty lies in her seamless black coat, without one stray color. All attention leads to her eyes—pale gold in sunlight, divine; in the dark her pupils expand, infinite and deep.

From her gaze my “Antenna People” were born—faces lit only by two points of light.

It is perception across species, a soft connection, more than human sight.

Lily taught me: humans and animals are not separate—they merge in the seams of perception.

Lily is willful, curious, innocent—forever a child. Instinct, wildness, pride, alertness—qualities we suppress in adulthood— live freely in her. She is the un-domesticated self.

She does not know she is my muse. And because she does not know it, she is pure, unfiltered power.

Today online I found Shen Zhenlin’s Qing dynasty painting *Cat & Peach Blossom*.

One kitten, pure black like Lily grown up across centuries—his cats, flowers, butterflies, birds remain astonishing even now.

The painter must have met the right cat too.

I bend down—Lily is watching me with wide eyes by my feet.

I cannot help but smile.

Artist Bio:

Born in Yongzhou, Hunan, Zelene Jiang Schlosberg holds a Master’s degree from Beijing Normal University. Her practice explores image evolution, identity, interspecies imagination, and post-human perception through cutting–stacking–reassembling canvas. Her spatial visual fields shift between painting, relief, and installation. Her work has been widely exhibited in the United States.

Lin Ran — "TOTO — Eighteen Years of Warmth and Eternal Memory"

My beloved cat TOTO—the little one who accompanied me for eighteen years—returned to the stars on April 17, 2024.

Even now, when I think of her, my eyes fill with tears. My heart is full of love, and longing.

With time, the once bright-blue-eyed kitten grew old. Her steps became unsteady, her leaps slow. She spent days curled quietly in one spot, as if resisting time itself. We knew one day she would leave—but when it happened, it carved a wound that no comfort could fill.

TOTO witnessed my youth and adulthood. She was born in a tomato garden in Bordeaux.

Not yet one month old, she wobbled toward me crying, as if searching for warmth. I named her TOTO—from “tomate.” We bonded immediately.

As a student in France, my life was unsettled, filled with moves and travel. Yet she

followed—Paris, Rouen, Brittany, then the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg. Wherever I went, she was there.

Her personality was proud and picky—not gentle, but charming. A clean freak, she meowed loudly beside her litter box demanding it be cleaned. Yet she shared food with stray cats and never fought. Dogs, however, she hated. In Paris she taunted the neighbor’s dog by knocking plants off the ledge—once she fell herself, returning shocked and fluffy like a black explosion.

At age three, she moved back to China with me. She even had her own pet passport. At

Charles de Gaulle Airport she was supposed to fly cargo, but a staff member who loved cats helped her stay in cabin with me. A silent alliance among cat people.

She lived fifteen more years in China, growing calm and gentle. Because of work travel, she often stayed with my sister, who cared for her lovingly. TOTO became our shared child.

Even now, my sister cries when remembering her.

There are countless memories. Eighteen years cannot be told in one lifetime. She taught me how to love; her leaving taught me how to say goodbye.

TOTO is warmth, memory, eternity.

Artist Bio:

Born in Fuzhou, Lin Ran teaches at Jimei University. She holds dual Master's degrees from ENSBA Paris and Rouen School of Fine Arts, and is pursuing a PhD in New Media Art. Her work integrates narrative, sociology, and experimental media, spanning photography, animation, painting, installation, and performance. She has exhibited in 140+ shows and held eight solo exhibitions.

Kira Wu — "Jianjian — The Little One Who Gave Me Courage"

Everyone who knows me knows this—I was raised by dogs. When we care for them, they

care for us, fully and unconditionally.

In my 35 years of life, many dogs have passed through it. But one name still brings instant tears—Jianjian. This writing is for him.

At twenty, I gave myself a gift—I bought Jianjian. Or rather, he chose me. A fluffy brown

poodle jumped into my lap, smiling like fate itself. That moment bonded us forever.

I named him Jianjian—not only mischievous, but “Jian” sounds like “healthy,” hoping he’d

grow strong. He was gentle, never caused trouble, never left my side. If I showered, he

waited in his bed. If I cried, he jumped onto my lap to comfort me. He was family, my closest companion.

He was loved by all. Friends fought to be his “godmothers.” After three years, my father

wanted to “borrow” him—and never returned him, raising him into a fluffy teddy bear. I let him stay, thinking he could accompany my parents for me.

Later I left for the U.S. to study. Six winters ago I returned to China, choosing to visit Jianjian first. I found him frail—thin, tangled fur, hind legs weakened. I held him and vowed to stay twenty days without leaving.

Northern winter without heating was freezing. I soaked my feet in hot water, wrapped in a

down coat, hugging Jianjian like a warm fur pillow. Darkness outside was terrifying—but he kept me brave.

A week before leaving, I postponed my flight just to stay longer. But goodbye came. When he saw my luggage, he howled like a child. He knew. My heart was breaking—I feared it might be our last farewell.

Back in America, I asked for news. No answer. Six months later my cousin finally told

me—he stopped eating after I left, and passed away the next day. I cried for hours.

Maybe he held on through hardship just to see me once more. Once I left, he knew he would never see me again.

I regret only one thing in life—that I didn’t bring him with me. Even in hardship, if we had

each other, it would have been worth it.

Thank you Jianjian. You taught me that family is chosen, loved, and remembered. Your love and courage guide me still, lighting my understanding of life and connection.

Bio:

Kira Wu (Wu Qian), Exhibition Director at the Research House for Asian Art. Curator of thirteen exhibitions to date.