Lucky, this point in time and space
Is chosen as my working-place,
Where the sexy airs of summer,
The bathing hours and the bare arms,
The leisured drives through a land of farms
Are good to a newcomer.
Equal with colleagues in a ring
I sit on each calm evening
Enchanted as the flowers
The opening light draws out of hiding
With all its gradual dove-like pleading,
Its logic and its powers:
That later we, though parted then,
May still recall these evenings when
Fear gave his watch no look;
The lion griefs loped from the shade
And on our knees their muzzles laid,
And Death put down his book.
Summer is a-comin’ in. You can hear it on the tiny lips of blackflies as they burrow into the hairline at the back of your neck. We have gorged on ramps and swum outdoors in early May: auguries of the glorious months to come.
The journey along Route 17 to celebrate the launch of OSMOS Magazine was like a reverse time-lapse offensive through the Northern Front of Spring. What began with branches in Bloomville ended with teeming, emerald foliage in Crown Heights, as we unloaded buckets of Table-made wild ramp, chicken and mushroom pie filling from the VW and muscled them up the stairs to Emily and Melissa Elsen’s test kitchen.
Because what better way to celebrate the unveiling of our collaboration with Cay Sophie Rabinowitz, Henrik Knudsen and Christian Rattemeyer – the ‘How To Make a Pie’ story – than, well … to make a pie. Or better still, a hundred of ’em. 100 hand-made, hand-numbered (by lamplight till 2 in the morning) Catskill Pies set on a bed of Delaware County moss. With our friends at Four & Twenty Blackbirds and a couple of bottles of rosé; shot like a bolt of love to the heart of the Lower East Side.
We even made it into the catalogue. Because there’s $4500 Art that thrills the eye and there’s free Art that fills the belly. Make way for the backwoods homebirth of Art You Eat ©. W.H. Auden lived at 77 St Mark’s Place for 19 years and spent much of his time padding round the East Village in carpet slippers. It’s warming to imagine him wandering into OSMOS Gallery, lighting a cigarette and resting his lion griefs for a few minutes, their muzzles flecked with the buttery crumbs of Catskill wild ramp, chicken and mushroom pies.