In case the previous post is not enough artistic endeavor for you, I give you the results of a performance piece by The Dog, entitled "How I Feel About Thunderstorms."
I suspect it doesn't have as much impact as seeing the piece in person, but neither C-Man nor I had that privilege since it happened while we were at work. The laundry began its day innocently stored in the basket, which was stored upright in the cabinet. C-Man came home to find The Dog trapped in the bathroom with the upended version. There were muddy paw prints in the bathtub as well. He had to disturb her creation by shoving the door open to allow her to escape, but she seemed glad of the trade-off.
Come to think of it, perhaps it was not art, but actually a pitched battle between mighty foes?
