From time to time even I have asked myself the question. How do I get through the laser fields in the great hall? When that happens I take a casual stroll on Houston and I know that the answer is neatly tucked in on Clinton Street and is called Culture Fix. Where I can get a glass of fine and thoughtful wine, plant a chair in the middle of the square gallery and bounce my thoughts off the art-littered walls. Culture Fix is an art-bar. I found it in the year I switched from beer to wine. It was like the moment of perfect insight when Suddhartha reached final enlightenment or Buddhahood.
Culture Fix is home to the urban satyrs (mythical forest creatures) seeking Buddhahood in these treeless lands. We have cut down the trees to make violins (culture), which you can hear played masterfully here on occasion (even in the subway). They remind me that I am mortal. Because like Odyssey I have seen much and remember more.
Renaissance, rebirth, reincarnation, restart, re-everything. I am a young man who only knows how to sing (with my pencil), joke and laugh. Luckily, laughter was elevated to an art by Aristotle. Culture Fix is where Aristotle is hanging out nowadays. So monocycle your way in, keep feet off seats and stop bending a knee to the algorithm.
Leave your smart phone at home and sharpen your pink knife (tongue). Excavate your soul, join the Middle Kingdom. Because when the great earth is shaken this place alone is unmoved. Unmoved as a dragon slayer immortalized in marble in a museum lobby. Gallery inside a bar is like a museum of art inside a museum of satyrs. Dress code is contemporary roman court fashion (aka hipsterish). Well. I had my fill of culture today. I can wake up and safely say: The greatest joy of mine is that of being Salvador Dali reincarnated as a writer. And remember to call everybody ‘buddy’. Stay savoir-faire.
-Milen Vasilev
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