the first slice

TART, one is conditioned to assume, should be served upon fine porcelain, elegantly displayed before a gleaming audience of civilised spoons. Fragile tea cups covetous of each others patterns, sit quite empty, awaiting the gurgling pour of Darjeeling tea. Once full, their walls begin to warm.

In the moments before consumption, observe behind the graceful nods and crafted charm of our fair crowd, a ceremony quite different in nature, in fact. Notice the salivary glands opening their floodgates, welcoming the body's gooey slush as pupils widen in anticipation for the coming treat. Noses flare up to the sweet smell of melting butter and tongues, all those fleshy pink tongues! are massaged by this aroma, exciting the pores of sweating palms. The room's temperature rises with the quickening heart beats and the brain's pleasure center performs exquisite dances for us, of intricate choreography and song. And so we shovel and we chew and we swallow and we stop.

In the aftermath of savage devouring, evidence of our precious tart lies only in the remnants of flattened crumbs, scattered across the dirty plate.

Art for me is very much about this act of absorption, like my eyes are licking the cream off the tart, sucking it all up with juicy delight. And for most of us, experiencing beauty is a pleasure most fundamental and universal, like the need to consume food (and why not have our cake and eat it too). In some rare occurrences however, we encounter what has been called the 'sublime', a feeling of soul elevation, if you will, that transcends the limits of the human condition through art. We cannot hold onto this enchanted state because despite our elevated experience, it can only be temporary and so, I can only go back to picking up the crumbs between my greedy fingers, trying to savor every last bit of the tart. So, here goes.

Welcome to TART.