Good Taste

ED, 2010, Siblings, acrylic on polymer, 11X9

Art is in losing it. I noticed how effortlessly the guys at the counter were brewing coffee. When I do an operation like that in my kitchen I don’t like to be watched. I always spill coffee grains on the counter spooning it from a grinder to a pot. My guests might think it's cool. I am the only one in town cooking turkish coffee at home.

I leaned over the table and whispered, “ I like it when they are not aware of their style…” Phil smiled and said, “It is a style, ma.”

Shit, nothing is perfect!

One of them popped up at our table and asked. “May I clean these cups for you?” “We are still working on it,” Philip replied. Anna came back with more  pour-over style coffee. She showed us the list of natural flavors like they do for wines. “You might like to know that I heard about your place in Miami,” I said to barista. He cocked his head to the left and shifted his right leg, “Really?” and his eyebrows flew up. Shit! Phil was right. Everything is style.

Style is the language we use when we dig one other. Every day American culture tills new acres of style by commercializing idiosyncratic tastes.

“I dig your style,” I heard on the street. I wore tight dress tied in the nut at the knee length. He wore bare muscles disguised under a purple tank. We may dig each others style without sharing tastes.

Unlike styles, describable and categorized, tastes remain a mystery.

Cutting-edge artists of all countries, please, use safety ropes! Your occupation is dangerous! You conquer inches of undiscovered taste every day!

Style belongs to human culture; taste is in the realm of the universe. Taste is like a thought; no one knows where it  comes from.

How do we now if the taste is good when it is new, when no one taught it in college? How do we know if idea is palpable, if we didn’t try it? People say, “O, but there are those who know… those who can tell.” Maybe, but still…
  
People of all countries, let go! Art is in losing it. We will never find a new expression unless we take a risk to dare. I know a secret. Ideas come from elsewhere, when we lose guard. Loosen up, friends! Art is in loosing shit.