Bathrooms are surprisingly good places for cats.
Not necessarily real cats.
Anyone who has attempted to brush their teeth while a cat occupies the sink already knows the complications involved there.
We mean cat art.
Bathrooms tend to be among the most carefully designed rooms in a home, yet they’re also places where people seem willing to take a few chances.
Wallpaper becomes bolder.
Paint becomes darker.
Art becomes stranger.
And suddenly an enormous oil painting of an extremely judgmental cat above the bathtub doesn’t seem unreasonable at all.
The trick, as always, is avoiding the territory of novelty décor.
These aren’t bathrooms decorated with cute cat signs and paw-print towels.
They’re beautiful rooms containing art that happens to feature cats.
Sometimes seriously.
Sometimes beautifully.
And occasionally with absolutely no dignity whatsoever.
The Cat Above the Tub
The bathroom is elegant enough to deserve an equally serious painting.
So naturally there is a cat.
Above a freestanding tub hangs a large traditional oil portrait of a magnificent long-haired cat seated against a dark landscape.
The pose is formal.
The expression is composed.
The cat looks as though several generations of the family may actually have reported to it.
Around the portrait are warm plaster walls, antique furniture, aged brass fixtures and pale stone floors.
Nothing about the room is particularly humorous.
Which makes the cat considerably funnier.
Had this been a portrait of some forgotten aristocrat, nobody would give it a second glance.
But it isn’t.
It’s Mr. Whiskers.
And apparently this is his estate.
The Black Cat
Sometimes you don’t need much.
A nearly black painting hangs on an enormous pale limestone wall.
At first it appears abstract.
Then two ears emerge.
A curve suggests a shoulder.
Two faint eyes appear from the darkness.
It’s a black cat rendered with just enough information to make its presence known.
The bathroom around it is architectural and quiet: pale stone, a floating vanity, sculptural fixtures and enormous windows bringing soft daylight into the room.
There are no other cat references.
There don’t need to be.
One is watching.
That’s sufficient.
The Cats of Japan
Cats have been appearing in Japanese art for centuries, which gives us considerably better material to work with than a framed sign saying Crazy Cat Lady.
A serene Japanese-modern bathroom pairs warm timber, stone and handmade tile with a series of woodblock-inspired cat prints.
The cats climb.
Stretch.
Sleep.
One appears to be investigating something it has absolutely no business investigating.
The artwork brings colour and movement into an otherwise restrained room without disturbing its calm.
It also proves that cat art doesn’t have to announce itself from across the house.
Sometimes discovering the cats is half the fun.
The Tiny Cat Painting
The wall is enormous.
The painting is approximately the size of a paperback book.
And that’s exactly why it works.
In the middle of a broad limewashed wall hangs one tiny antique painting of a cat.
Nothing surrounds it.
No gallery wall.
No sconces fighting for attention.
Just an absurd amount of negative space devoted to a very small cat.
The bathroom itself is beautiful and restrained, with an old wooden vanity, stone basin, freestanding bath and imperfect plaster walls.
You find yourself walking closer to see the painting.
Which, presumably, was the cat’s plan all along.
The Cat Triptych
Three photographs.
No complete cat.
The first shows a pair of eyes peering over an unseen edge.
The second, two paws hanging elegantly in front of the camera.
The third captures the wonderful curve of a tail disappearing from the frame.
Printed enormous in black and white, the photographs hang together above a freestanding tub in a sophisticated contemporary bathroom.
Nearby, a long double vanity has everything humans require: two proper mirrors, flattering lighting, black cabinetry and pale stone.
Because apparently people occasionally need to see themselves in a bathroom too.
The triptych gets its own wall, where it can behave more like gallery art than bathroom decoration.
The photographs are unmistakably feline without ever showing an entire cat.
Sometimes the parts tell the story better than the whole animal.
Especially the tail.
The tail usually has opinions of its own.
The Bathroom Familiar
This powder room was never going to contain polite art.
The walls are deep green.
The stone vanity is dramatic.
The mirror is old.
The lighting is deliberately moody.
And hanging above the toilet is a slightly mysterious painting of a black cat sitting beneath a moonlit tree.
It isn’t Halloween art.
At least, not technically.
But there’s something about the cat’s expression that suggests it knows considerably more than it’s prepared to share.
In another room, the painting might feel theatrical.
Here, surrounded by dark colour and gleaming brass, it feels completely at home.
Every house deserves one room where things get a little strange.
The powder room is volunteering.
The Cat Among the Flowers
Not every cat needs to look sinister.
In a romantic country bathroom, a large botanical painting hangs above an antique chest converted into a vanity.
Flowers tumble across the canvas.
Leaves overlap.
Birds appear among the branches.
And somewhere in the middle of all of it sits a cat.
You don’t notice it immediately.
That’s the charm.
The room continues the palette with soft green cabinetry, aged brass, linen curtains, handmade tile and a deep freestanding tub overlooking the garden.
The painting could have been beautiful without the cat.
The cat simply makes it better.
Cats have been making that argument for thousands of years.
The Mid-Century Cat
There was a period when illustrators seemed particularly good at drawing cats.
Long bodies.
Enormous eyes.
Tiny heads.
Tails that went on for approximately three feet longer than anatomically necessary.
We’re bringing one back.
A bold mid-century cat illustration hangs in a bathroom filled with walnut cabinetry, terrazzo, globe lighting and wonderfully simple tile.
The artwork uses only a handful of colours and a few beautifully economical lines.
It’s playful.
Graphic.
And unmistakably cool.
There is nothing childish about it.
Although the cat itself looks entirely capable of knocking the soap dispenser onto the floor just to see what happens.
The Cat in One Line
One line.
That’s almost all there is.
A large cream canvas carries a sweeping black line that becomes an ear, forehead, back, tail and finally the suggestion of a sitting cat.
The artwork hangs in an extremely minimal bathroom where almost everything else has been removed from view.
A sculptural tub.
Travertine walls.
A floating vanity.
One extraordinary pendant.
No clutter.
The simplicity of the artwork suits the architecture perfectly.
And despite containing almost nothing, the cat somehow still manages to look judgmental.
An impressive achievement with one line.
The Gallery of Cats
One cat painting might be tasteful.
Twenty-seven requires commitment.
Across one wall of an English-country bathroom is a collection of cat art assembled over many years.
There are tiny oils.
Charcoal sketches.
Old engravings.
A child’s drawing.
A beautifully executed watercolour.
A rather questionable portrait bought at a flea market.
Different frames, different periods, different cats.
Some of the artwork is genuinely good.
Some of it is there because somebody loved it.
Together, it becomes far more interesting than any perfectly coordinated gallery wall could have been.
The rest of the bathroom remains restrained: painted cabinetry, marble, old floorboards and a traditional tub.
The cats provide everything else.
The Cat Watching the Cat
There is a large contemporary portrait of a cat above the vanity.
Below it sits another cat.
A real one.
The resemblance is suspicious.
The painting isn’t photorealistic. It’s loose and expressive, with broad brushstrokes and exaggerated features.
But the colouring is right.
The ears are right.
And that particular expression of mild disappointment is unmistakable.
The actual cat sits on the stone countertop looking directly at its painted counterpart.
Perhaps admiring it.
Perhaps questioning the artist’s interpretation.
Perhaps wondering why nobody has turned on the tap.
It’s difficult to know.
The bathroom itself is bright, contemporary and beautifully detailed.
But for once, nobody is looking at the bathroom.
The Completely Serious Portrait of a Completely Unserious Cat
Finally, we arrive at the portrait.
Not just any portrait.
A full, formal, old-master-style painting of a cat presented with the gravity normally reserved for royalty.
The cat sits upright against a dark painted background.
There may be velvet involved.
Possibly a decorative collar.
Perhaps one paw rests beside an object of great symbolic importance.
Nobody knows what the object symbolizes.
Least of all the cat.
The portrait hangs in an extraordinarily grand bathroom with marble floors, architectural mouldings, an antique cabinet and a freestanding tub positioned beneath tall windows.
Everything says elegance.
Everything says history.
Everything says this painting has hung here for generations.
And then you look at the subject.
It is a cat who, approximately six minutes before sitting for the portrait, probably chased a piece of string into a wall.
The Best Rooms Have Something to Say
A beautiful bathroom doesn’t need cat art.
It doesn’t need dog art either.
It doesn’t need an antique painting, a strange photograph or twenty-seven tiny pictures collected over a lifetime.
But rooms become much more interesting when they reveal something about the people who live in them.
Perhaps that’s a serious painting of a much-loved cat.
Perhaps it’s a beautiful print discovered while travelling.
Perhaps it’s an enormous photograph that makes visitors laugh.
Or perhaps it’s a ridiculous formal portrait of an animal who spends most afternoons asleep in a cardboard box.
Good design doesn’t require everything in a room to be serious.
It requires everything to feel as though it belongs.
And sometimes the thing that belongs above the bathtub is a cat.
