Last night, ElMarko and I
went to UB to see Wynton Marsalis and the Lincoln Center Jazz Orhcestra. They
began with three pieces by other composers, but the bulk of the performance
consisted of a work by one of their own called “Portrait in Seven Shades.” Ted
Nash was inspired by works he’d seen at MoMA in Manhattan and set about to describe the
artists musically. His focus varied – for some, he captured their art, for
others, he used their life stories – but every one was wildly inventive.
This, naturally, got me
thinking about the very same artists. Specifically, I began to wonder what they
drank. So, here’s my very own Portrait in Seven Slugs:
Claude Monet surely stuck
with French wine, but even then, he leaned to more subtle styles. He enjoyed
Muscadet with fresh oysters and Vouvray with strong cheese. When leaning
towards red, he went for lighter wines like Beaujolais
or St-Nicolas-de-Bourgueil. He always steered clear of clobbering Bordeaux, or any other
flavor that conquered others.
Salvador Dali drank
gasoline. Or urine.
Henri Matisse was a bold
bugger. He wasn’t shy about enjoying the buzz as much as he enjoyed his drink. He
was all about Bordeaux.
A big believer in la vie boheme, he also was the first to pop Champagne
corks whenever possible.
Pablo Picasso was fiercely
nationalistic. He was also fiercely masculine. He stuck to deep, rich reds from
Rioja, at least until he made money. Then, he went with Priorats and never
looked back. None of that sissy French crap for him.
Van Gogh was a pretty notorious
Absinthe drinker, but I’ll guess that he also dug on Ricard and Pernod. When he
was really broke, he hit the cheap gin. That never seemed to work out too well.
Marc Chagall was a man of
contradictions; although he enjoyed Burgundies, he also had a soft spot for
vodka and slivovitz. He could put on the show of being decidedly French in his
palatial decisions, but in secret, he slurped borscht.
Jackson Pollack stuck to good
ol’ American bourbon: effective and quick. Fuck wine.
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