I had high hopes when I heard of a recently opened show at MOMA New York titled Comic Abstraction: image-making, image-breaking (Flash-only site). Sadly, it’s not a historical survey of original art by comic artists who have radically “broken the mould” of the panel-based comic grid since the 1970s, but rather a tiny show of 25 works from fine artists who take a knowing art-world glance at comics in order to make abstracted works.

I had similar hopes when I heard about Trace: the cat show, a large show by contemporary artists in Cardiff, Wales. Turned out that “cat” stands for “Cardiff Artists in Time”, and the show’s nothing to do with the massed artists of South Wales making surreal-imaginary engagements with the elusive nature of moggies or indeed cat shows. Shame. Perhaps an artist could make art out of this kind of anticipatory titling, producing flyers for non-existent yet intensely sexy-sounding shows? Anyone going to the Staffordshire Festival of Erotic Cheese-Carving? Or the Birmingham Festival of Extreme Building? Oooops, sorry; the last one’s real.