As many of you who follow this column regularly may have noticed, I normally focus my attention on various art phenomena in and around the region that I find interesting, positive, noteworthy—recognizing exhibitions and other artistic efforts that bring some sort of benefit, that raise the bar or otherwise contribute to the general advance of humankind. This column does not follow that precedent.

A few weeks ago, a bunch of over-life-size fiberglass cats, mounted on black steel posts, arrived on the streets of Catskill. There are two basic variations—the cat is either sitting or standing, stylized tail raised high in the air—and each has been painted or otherwise decorated, and given a cute name, usually a bad play on words like “cat” or “kitty.” They are, apparently, enormously popular. They also bear approximately the same relationship to “art” that McDonald’s has to real food, and are, to my mind, just about as detrimental.

Don’t get me wrong—I love cats. I have one myself, and I’m very attached to him. (He sits curled up on my lap as I type these very words.) Such sentiments no doubt help fuel the popularity of the unfortunately named “Cat-n-Around Catskill” project, but popularity alone is not a proper gauge for the success or failure of a public art project.

It’s a tricky thing, erecting artwork (typically sculpture) in a public space—our society has become so compartmentalized when it comes to culture, that the average citizen will often throw his or her hands in the air, shrugging helplessly when confronted with an example of bleeding edge contemporary art. It’s like stumbling awkwardly into an intense discussion that a few other people have been having for the past hour, when you have little hope of catching up, or even comprehending the primary subject of the conversation. You feel powerless, and then alienated, and more likely than not you’ll be walking in the opposite direction in short order.