Jurányi Gallery

Attila Stark: Puss in Booze

Scenes from the beach. Flirting, love, loneliness on the lake. What is acceptable mostly bores us to death. Everyone is bullshitting. I don’t have the pictures in front of me. Part of them was taken from an old Playboy. Even the photo looks like a caricature. What is this medium? Not the beach, but here around us. Everything without a label will be thrown away. You pretend to like yummy, crooked lines, and then your head turns out to be a melted ruler. Let the scratches bleed. The grandchildren of the cartoon cats don’t know each other, and no one is interested in them. Hairless monkey in the basin. The guitar is squeaking; coats are leaning against the chalky wall soughing. But this is a pleasant size, a treat accessible standing on the floor. It is good to know that it has to be erased, evanescence, joyfulness.

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