El Gabriel Penovoz (3:24)
I've always had a crush on Donald Sutherland, and I will see just about anything he's in. And years ago, he was in this movie called Wolf at the Door where he played Gauguin. He was very sexy, and he was always drinking this green drink and having sex with Javanese women. And I was wondering after I saw this like five times or something. I was in Miami in this art house. I was the only person at this theater. I had nothing else to do there for like five days. Visiting my mother, bored out of my skull. And I kept noticing this drink. And there's this moment in the movie where he offers it to this little girl. It's just kind of a little joke. He's being naughty and she's like. He offers her this absinthe, and I'm thinking, wow, what is it? I feel like I know what that is. And sure enough, I do. In many ways, it's been wafting under our noses for all of our lives. You know, it's been around since the 19th century. Oscar Wilde said, absinthe makes the tart grow fonder. And Rimbaud wrote about it. And you've seen it in paintings and sculptures, and it's everywhere, you know. And so I decided to do a little bit of research. And sure enough, it is the keystone of late 1800s Bohemia. And you can imagine the dandy walking his turtle down the street like a dog. They have the time to drink this tea stuff because you don't drink it like beer. You don't just shove it down like a frat boy. They actually had fountains, beautiful fountains, Sometimes lions and things that would dribble water very slowly so that you could mix your drink properly because the absinthe was a little bit bitter. So instead of just mixing sugar in, because sugar doesn't mix in with alcohol, you would put this beautiful slotted sea with little holes. You put your sugar cube on top and then just hang out by the fountain, and the fountain would drip into the glass slowly so that you could philosophize you could converse, you could think about that novel you're never going to write, you know. And I thought this was very, very appealing. So I said, okay, I'm going to go find some. But I discovered that it was illegal. It was made illegal right before Prohibition. And when prohibition was overturned, it was just too much trouble to make that legal. It was old fashioned. People were having cocktails. So I said, okay, fine. So 100 years later, I'm trying to find this, and it's nowhere in the United States. I've got to find it, like in the Czech Republic. And there's this acquaintance, this guy I know who's going to Prague. I said, hey, I'll pay you back. Would you bring me back a bottle? He said, yeah, sure. So he goes to Prague. Apparently he has some there. And he's like, oh, yeah, you got to try this great stuff. Gets you really fucked up. I was like, oh, oh, great. Okay. So we go to his house and he's like, yes. So we pour it. Well, you know, it's really very special. You know, you do this thing with the sugar in the water. He's like, oh, okay, yeah, whatever. Okay, let's do it. So he puts on a couple glasses, we pour it. And it's this stuff called Hill's absinthe. And it's blue. Now, that kind of messes me up because I've done my research and I know that absinthe is supposed to be this rich, green, beautiful liqueur. It's made of wormwood, which in Latin is artemisia absinthe. And for years it was just this medicine. It was mixed with wine. It was awful. But when they mixed it with these other beautiful herbs, all of them, I later learned, attributed to Venus, also made it greener, also a Venus color, you know. And it was just supposed to be this gorgeous intoxicating thing. And this was blue. Nothing is supposed to be what in nature is blue, really? I mean, cabbage, you know, so. So we, you know, we put it down and we take a sip and it tastes like Windex. So I'm like, oh, that's the secret ingredient. Okay. So I'm like, well, I really want to have my after this experience. Okay, so we do sugar, you know, but he's kind of like, yeah, whatever. So we just kind of stir it in. I don't want to be a drag. I don't want to be, like, too romantic. I barely know this guy. So then it tastes like sweet Windex. So then we smoke pot and we have sex. So the next day. I'm like, hey, great absinthe. He's like, yeah, great absinthe. And I know that that's a lie and that note to self, don't smoke pot. You know, But I'm obsessed at this point. I've had a little taste of it, and I think it's kind of like, I don't know if you've ever heard that cats have this parasite that makes you like cats more. Look it up. Okay? Anyway, so I've had a little taste of it, but I haven't had the right thing, and I'm desperate to try the real deal. So I think to this moment where my mother gave me a recipe for amaretto, which is delicious, and you save so much money. So I think, hey, you know, I can do this. I can do this. If I can make amaretto, I can make absinthe. So, you know, I start looking up recipes, and it's really important to me to, you know, just taste it. I just get on this thing, like, just, you know, and I want to have the thing. So I look up the recipes, I get the stuff, and I'm doing it very much by the book, and I buy the herbs, and I go home and I get my mortar and pestle. I'm going to be very witchy about it. So I, you know, take some stuff, and there's all these herbs you got to put in it, you know, about like, six or seven herbs. And I take the anise star, and I put it in, and I'm feeling very magical. And I start to crush it, and it's really hard. It's really, really hard to crush these herbs. So I put in the blender, I mix up the alcohol, and I make my absinthe. Okay? So I bring my friends over. I'm like, hey, I made the absinthe. Okay, great. So they try it, right? And we're, you know, pouring the absinthe, and, you know, and I don't want to, like, you know, hurt, you know, I don't want to, like, take too much of their time. They're being very nice coming over. And so we just make some sugar, and we taste it, and it tastes like turpentine. That sucks. So then I think, okay, what do I want? What I want is the magic of the 19th century. What I want is what absinthe holds inside. It's the gorgeousness of the era. And I believe that herbs come to us for a reason, and they teach us lessons, like peyote, like, anything else. There's nothing hallucinogenic about absinthe, actually. So I'm about to go on this quest and I've really kind of fucked it up. So I'm like, okay, what was so beautiful about this stuff? I can't actually taste it. So I can only look at the paintings and read things. And I go, okay, I think I got it. And these recipes aren't quite right. You know what? I just know it. And people ask me, well, how did you learn how to make absinthe? I always say, you know what? I remembered. And so I take some of these ideas that they got and then I add to them the things that make sense, the things that make sense in my soul as an artist. And I find, you know what this needs some vanilla. And this needs some chocolate. And this needs some cinnamon and a little bit of peppermint. Not too much, a little ginger. And some of the stuff that also makes it green and all the really gorgeous stuff. And then I call my friends and I go, you know what? I got it right. Come on over. And I sit them down and I play some good music. And we do the thing with the water and the sugar, though. Mine is so good, you don't really need it. And we do it right. And they go, wow, you got it. About a day later, I'm bombarded with phone calls. You have absinthe? You have absinthe? You have absinthe. Well, I live in a studio apartment. I live in Manhattan. You know, it's the dot com era. But I didn't really cash in. So I have a party. So I invite everybody to the party and I gather they're my friends. I go, look, you gotta help me out. And they're so into it, you know, I teach them the whole history, the whole thing. And then we really get into, like, what makes it magical. Well, what makes an absinthe party different from any other party? And it's that thing that really brings you together. You want to converse, you want to philosophize. So we make the music make sense so that people can talk. We make sure that there's food so that people don't get too drunk. And the bartenders care and they explain it to you and they worry, have you had a little too much to drink? Have something to eat, have a glass of water, you know, and people feel like they're home. And that becomes very successful. People love it. We keep doing these parties. I add themes, decor, performers. Starts getting really big, actually, during the dot com era, there are all these cool hunters always looking for cool shit. And so I get hired to do big catering things, and the next thing I know, they want video. Then I'm, like, sitting there with Final Cut Pro, kind of for Dummies, and I learn how to make video. I learned how to do all this stuff. And the app, through this really led me on this amazing path. But then I meet all these cool people who want to come to the really cool party. So then my parties get really big. Next thing I know, my parties get to be, like, 300 people. But guess what? It's still illegal. So I'm getting paranoid. I'm seeing SWAT teams going up the sides of the wall, getting into the gallery, finding everybody in their fucking diapers or whatever the theme is, you know, so. So, you know, it's not really that great, you know? And really, at this point, I've learned so much. I've quit my day job. I have traded in day for night. I am now leading this nocturnal existence. I'm doing all these cool parties, which is great, but, you know, sometimes you have to let some things go. And that last party had, like, 300 people at, like, 1am and when there are that many people, it's really crowded and you can't walk, and there's someone right next to you, and you can't move, and you've got your glasses and your bartenders really can't explain anything anymore. We can't do the sugar cubes because what are you gonna do? Get 100 people up to the bar and just go, no, you do like sugar water, and you slam it down. And the DJ has to play the music louder because, you know, there's so much noise and you can't move. And the next thing I know, I hear some chick go, where's this green stuff? Don't you have any beer? And I just went, that's the angel of Death. And I said, no, I'm sorry, we don't. Perhaps you'd like to go to the bar down the street. But really, it was a death knell. It was a death knell more than a cop coming up for a noise complaint or anything else. And I thought, sometimes when you water it down too much, you know, what do you have? What's the point? And absinthe had brought me so many gifts. It became my art. It taught me that you don't just make something to become famous or to be cool or to get stoned. You do it because it's amazing and it moves you and it's important. And then all the other stuff is just a gift. And then you get there eventually. You just have to trust. So if absinthe is my art and I am an artist, an artist is species at this point, then being an artist is knowing when the painting is done. And I moved on and I take it with me. And this is the absinthe spoon actually that we made, a sterling silver absinthe spoon that I gave all my bartenders and it's in the shape of an ankh, except that instead of the arms just being like this stretched out, the arms fold in like a hug. And what it was meant to do was to embrace anyone who came toward us and show them that they are absolutely beautiful and that they have in them everything it takes to make art out of everything they do. Thank you.
