POOP COMPOSITIONS
One Cat's Sanctuary in the Bustle of Manhattan
by Noah Burger

UPPER EAST SIDE, Manhattan - Entering the apartment of Robin "Cat-Glads" Loxley, one's breathing immediately begins to slow. Here is a place isolated from the circus of the street, from the honking horns and the bustle of the bar next door. The details are exciting and effortless - a worn cotton rope draped over a couch, an electric blue "shiny ball" settled on the blond wood floor, litter crumbs peppering the occassional surface and fur tufts wafting through the air. Even these delights, however, are drawfed as one climbs into Loxley's tour-de-force of Zen design: his one foot square litter box.

Litter Gardens, commonly referred to as "Poop" Gardens, first began as the dabblings of itinerant cat monks, who used fecal compositions as trail posts for other members of their clans. The art flowered with the ballooning of the silk trade in the early 1600's, as a growing merchant class took to domesticating cats in increasing numbers - no longer nomadic, cat monks could craft elaborate arrangements, overtaking yards and sometimes entire houses with dazzling mazes of
excrement. During China's Cultural Revolution, however, many of the greatest Gardens were obliterated, simply thrown out in the trash like so much unwanted poop. However, Wei "Willy" Tso, one of the great modern Litter practitioners, escaped to America with his owner, bringing his art with him. Litter Gardens have become an obsession of American cats ever since.

Loxley's Box, as his friends call it, makes ample reference to Tso's style - there are tumbling, asymmetric urine cascades, thoughtful canyons where the litter has been scratched down to bare plastic, the occassional congealed fleck of baking soda. Urine and feces are placed with such exquisite care as to be almost indistinguishable, a feat last accomplished in the 18th Century gardens of cat-monk Chow-Hsiu Lo. But the departures from the classical tradition are startling, drawing on modern sculpture and even a sense of the absurd. In one corner, dried fecal matter nestles agaist freshly laid stool, emphasizing not only the transience of the Nine Lives but also the sublime ridiculousness of the very act of shitting. It is this willingness to break new ground that has felines coming daily to admire Loxley's compositions, to bask in the sights and smells of an authentically Zen experience.

While this latest installation has been a great success, Loxley is not content to rest on his laurels. When asked about future projects, he responded, "Meew meow mrow...meep...meep, meep!" In this columnist's opinion, it is a shame that so many Litter Gardens have remained in private residences, away from public eyes and noses. As Loxley so eloquently puts it, more exposure for these beautiful works of art would allow us all a moment to stop and smell the feces.