Allan Tigerman takes time out from practicing his 2015 St. Patrick’s day schedule to critique ‘Wheel, and other works’ by HH Tax.
New York is the center of arts.
This explains how artsy it is. This explains all the free wine in plastic glasses. I do love a nice opening, as I often joke via SnapChat with my pen-friend Garry Kasparov.
The alert among you will notice how I’ve diplomatically refrained from commenting on the art crowd at this point – you see, even thinking of Art – takes my mind to Madrid, the Prado, and the Reina Sofia. Art sends my fingers to comb the bookshelves in my little negative two bedroom space; fingers that wander past books on Madrid, the Prado, and the Reina Sofia, fingers that rest at the throat of a full bottle of sweet vermouth that soon ends up empty and in a bin for lunch. Vermouth that sends me to the chaise to sleep for two hours through the sound of silence. Vermouth. The Art to my Garfunkel.
So, the art crowd. Gin drinkers.
Gin. Hello darkness my old friend. There is a famous saying I invented two minutes ago:
Gin after free wine, and you’ll hear some whine.
Gin. A precursor of public tantrums. The Sicilian Defense of vocal complaints of heartburn and ‘having to leave immediately’ without ‘possibly having time to say goodbye’.
It is one of the reasons I invested in a cape.
However, I must separate the art crowd from the artist and names are useful for this. I mean, I wouldn’t even know who Garry Kasparov was if it wasn’t for his SnapChat username Redhawtpawn. Hence it was to my great delight and surprise that I was able to view the artful constructions of H.H.Tax at his website: hhtax.us Delight because this happened at 7:30 a.m. and surprise because my vision was not of the GinGoggles variety.
The works of H.H.Tax, or to give him his full nomenclature – Harold Higgins Tax formerly known as Prince – are in a single word… very interesting. I like the sense of distraction I experienced when viewing the works. I remedied this feeling by eating breakfast, but all the works did indeed remind me that I had not eaten. My mind then escaped to one of those expensive hotel buffets that are typically around $27.95 per person – perfect for storing un-necessary amounts of food for the winter, in your stomach, in the middle of summer. Those joyous mornings when you eat granola, before eating fruit, before eating something cooked, then having second helpings at the cooked thing; all the while delaying, reasoning with yourself, pretending the bacon is not there, but thinking about the bacon. The crispy stuff, how it’s better than the non-crispy stuff.
Anyhow, thoughts of breakfast dissipated co-incidentally after eating, and were followed by my need for coffee and the ‘other’ morning ritual stimulated by coffee. No not that one, the other one. No, not that one either.
After a few seconds I then sat ready to give Harold’s work some deep consideration. I opened the laptop to type my thoughts only to see an urgent directive with regards to “updating your software”. As it was now past 9: 00am and officially ‘drinking time,’ I decided to let the update continue while I tipped all of last nights’ empties upside down into a glass for their last excruciating drops – allowing me to create the now famous cocktail ‘Last Night’s Flavors.’
Harold’s paintings and works are excellent, and they’re available to buy on the website
I now intend to spend the next 24 hours investigating other ways to take my mind off bacon. Honey maple, smoked, Sunday morning, crispy, bacon.
PS. I would proof this… but all my words come back to me in shades of mediocrity.
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