A second-hand monograph of Hieronymus Bosch, the kind of art book produced to make a painter comfortably consumable, is reopened and repopulated. Cats’ eyes appear in the foliage; cats take the place of demons, saints and onlookers. Bosch’s world, already full of watching creatures, absorbs them easily, while the reader is caught looking at a familiar masterpiece and seeing something else. The book treats reproduction itself as a vernacular image, something mass-printed, thumbed through and half-remembered, and returns attention to it through a small, absurd act of vandalism.