“Art is his reason for being!”
“Reason to be?” I repeated: “What is that?”
Rolling her eyes at my naivety, my design school roommate said, “their basic reason for existing.”
“Oh, sure.” I answered. But what I really saw was how much I had to learn to try and fit into my new life in New York City.
“I like your invitation. It’s different in an avant-garde sort of way,” I said as I propped the long, wacky zebra-striped invitation, to my first soiree in Manhattan, on the overstuffed surface of the standard bedroom trunk. .
I looked at the photo next to it that had been taken six months earlier. My eyes misted up at the sight of graduation caps flying in the air in front of the chapel at Cottey College, the small private women’s college near the Missouri Ozarks that had been the scene of my earlier college life.
But during this particular time period, I was in an environment where the eyes shouldn’t mist over and where little time was left for nostalgia. She was on a fast track, trying to acclimate to four seasons of culture shock in a concrete jungle.
The artistic invitation was my first clue that this party would be a far cry from anything I had experienced up to that point in my young life. Imagine if you will, a SOHO loft in the 1970s where fashion, art, safari and theatrical finesse come together for a good cause in one fun, fabulous and outrageous evening.
Perhaps it was at that event and other chic parties afterward during my New York City design school days that the first true kernels were planted in my imagination for a lifelong attraction to food and entertainment as art. , and to the skillful blending of contrasting mediums in ways that surprise and delight the senses.
Waiters dressed in vintage artist’s gowns with palettes as trays served elegant hors d’oeuvres that tasted like they fell from heaven. Tour guides decked out in safari garb discussed the means used to create the larger-than-life depictions of wild zebras, tigers and elephants that roamed the jungle-like loft walls. Above, three-dimensional sculptures of monkeys clung to a whimsical forest canopy as unusual and surprising sounds wafted through the party space.
The pièce de résistance and the grand finale were the intricate spun sugar sculptures that adorned decadent chocolate, displays of exotic fruits and forbidden sweets arranged in a magnificent candlelit, star-studded rooftop garden. Hidden in this spun-sugar dream, the city around her seemed a harmless, out-of-this-world fantasy enchanted by dazzling sequined lights.
The lesson for me came from witnessing the host’s stroke of brilliance at the UN cage his creativity to benefit a larger-than-life cause. The night came alive and roared with its own unique art, it is his very reason for being.
More about spun sugar
That event marked my first conscious recollection of spun sugar. But spun sugar is by no means an invention of the 20th century. As early as 16th century Italy, intricate spun sugar sculptures were all the rage in the dining rooms of the wealthy. In hindsight, it’s no wonder my artist friend, a tall, dark, gorgeous man of Italian and French descent, dabbled in spun sugar sculpture.
Visually, spun sugar is a foodie garnish that will create a WOW feel at your next soiree.
Just a whisper of these shimmering golden strands of spun sugar will add a dramatic artistic flair and trendy flair to a delicious edible basket of white chocolate with fresh strawberries or most spring desserts. Good Life!
Spun sugar is pretty easy to create. Instructions for making spun sugar in your own kitchen are on my blog: http://www.entertainingwithkathipantry.blogspot.com
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(c) 2007 Kathi Dameron, Kathi Dameron and Associates, http://www.writingboutique.blogspot.com
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