Where is the catnip farmer that started his attack? If dinosaurs are born of oil, will cats surrender control and die out? Or will they leave the Earth on patched-up flying saucers? Will dogs remain prying at the game of clowns and skulls, waiting for the moment when everyone and everything is finally connected by a network of hoses and the loving hearts finally start beating in unison?
The densely painted composition and the collision of colours competing with one another, as well as the simultaneous use of acrylic, oil, and spray paint in the labour-intensive and eclectic images makes us wonder: what the hell is going in here? How can it be that these most diverse characters, each of whom has an agenda only known to themselves, form a nation together?