England, 1924. An old man is diagnosed as a violent schizophrenic and committed to the pauper ward of a South London asylum where, following a period of withdrawal, he begins to draw, to paint. The old man creates beautiful, impossibly coloured and complex landscapes, mostly unpeopled. He also paints cats: hundreds of cats, cats run through with a strange ecstatic electricity, quietly incandescent. Riotous and grinning or sublimely poised and inscrutable, their many-hued bright saucer eyes gazing from vistas of tangled foliage and pink-jewelled mountains. When shut indoors, they are set against intricate, curlicued wallpaper. On occasion, they fracture, shimmering into their ornate backgrounds.