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.

How About a Hike?

Friederike Bear, 2014, Devil's Pool at Wissahickon Park, Philadelphia, PA, Digital Photo

Today I was planning on going on a hike, but decided to check my emails first. The news was bad on unemployment. I got anxious. What if my agency gets closed? No one is protected after all! I almost closed my computer when ads in the right column captured my attention. Meet a Catholic bachelor, buy sexy runway boots, go on a diet, get a new you!

If my company gets out of business how can I afford that?

I was ready to go on a hike but on the bottom of the page I saw an ad on penis enlargement. I am a woman, but what if my man unconsciously suffers? Penis enlargement is a multimillion industry, I heard. Indirectly it keeps people employed, directly it makes them happy, or other way around. The feeling is mutual. We are all in it together.

If I go on a hike, who am I helping?

On the outdoors trail I might lose a few pounds of my precious weight, and feel better about my selfish self without buying a pair of sexy runway boots, or meeting a Catholic bachelor.  I might meet a few dogs with their antisocial owners, but where would we order drinks? I might see a stork flying low in a narrow corridor over a misty creak, but who would I pay for the spectacle? I might work out my muscles without hiring a personal trainer.

We are all in it together. A hike on a trail may be helping anxieties, but not economy.

I get up on my feet and drove to CVS. There, at the drive-through window I picked up an anti-anxiety drug, the remedy for all problems. It would keep me calm and our jobs secure. Millions of people all over the country would wake up tomorrow to go to their work places at doctors’ offices, universities, science labs, pharmaceutical companies, drug warehouses and retail pharmacies locations. Good morning, America! Good shit to keep you running!