Brut

Brut
1/7

I care not so much for the liquid inside the bottle. Almost three years sober, I opt out totally. But I care for the anticipation of what the bottle delivers. The moments when it’s shared. What we bu…

Brut

I care not so much for the liquid inside the bottle. Almost three years sober, I opt out totally. But I care for the anticipation of what the bottle delivers. The moments when it’s shared. What we buy is so rarely about the object itself. It’s about the occasion, the sentiment, the status and the gifting into our own stories. We deserve it, we so love to tell ourselves. And we do. What is something to celebrate without a moment of pause, pop and unrestrained pleasure? No one drinks champagne alone, unless they desperately feel they deserve to - which too should be observed. But as coffee and croissants serve the compliments to a morning, so here we have the glass filled, slipping down inside us, in lock with the sun. To pre-empt a party, to diagnose an event as worthwhile. Ab-normal, with intent, and with hopes that the consumption of a French beverage will lift the air from our shoulders as it does from the bottom of the glass. I am home here. This artwork reminded me of where I come from, not from Champagne, but from the smallest details in a small object that I declare worthy of size. Worthy of pause from you and a month from me. Pure love in the fractures through the thick bottleneck glass. Safety in the bounce of light from a torn foil casing. As easy as this drink might fall down one's throat, this drawing took me into the place where I can get drunk. Happy New Year, and as I so love to say, bottoms up.