Thanks to Tina Kim for dragging a rad exibition of Basquiat works from New York to her mother's Kukje gallery, Oct.12 - Nov 12, 2006.
I dragged out my roommate to witness it, and then made him write a review. Check up on it!
An art review, by Collin Ritch
Hi, my name is Collin. A couple of weeks ago my roommate dragged me to a Basquiat art exhibit. Not being a huge art fan it took a little convincing, but I did agree to go. It was cool, but enough about the art, let’s get to the real reason you all are reading this… Keeping in mind this was my first visit to Seoul I decided to let loose a little, so to speak. My roommate, as well as a few other tag alongs, grabbed a hotel in the foreigner district known as Iteawon. It was a grand night, the music was blaring, the drinks were flowing, the girls were gorgeous, (well at least at this point in the evening I thought so.) At some point I decided it was time to meet some new people so I left my crew. To my surprise, and luck I met the GREATEST character that I have met to date.
His name was Yaser Al Chikh, a Syrian Spare Car Parts and Accessories Exporter-Importer, who later came to be simply known as “Daddy”. “Daddy” took a particular liking to me, whether it was my loveable teddy bear image, or the fact that I was the only white guy willing to talk to him, nobody will ever know. The drinks came hard and fast, and the night quickly got out of hand. “Daddy” had underlings everywhere, and every time I tried to escape his grips an underling would appear and drag me back. I was forced to be the wingman for a Syrian Business dude. I have never seen a bigger look of fear in woman’s eyes than when “Daddy” got them in his sight. It is something that is almost indescribable. Luckily, between shots of whiskey, dancing with girls, and almost passing out, I found a window for escape and took the opportunity, leaving with two business cards, three phone numbers, I fled like a drunken used whore.
By this point it was 3am, and with my friends long gone, I decided it probably was time to head back to the hotel room. The only problem was that I didn’t have a key, and when I arrived at the room, everyone had crashed and was in no shape to answer my many bangs. I did what any self-respecting drunk would do…I found a cozy spot at the end of the hall and set up shop. This lasted only about an hour, until I was reported by another guest, (who I guess heard my banging, and drunken banter.) I was rudely awoken by a Korean bell boy rhyming off something in Korean to the affect of “Get the fuck out of my hall and into your room, or I’ll kick your stupid foreign ass out on the street”. At that point I decided it was finally time to bring this adventure to an end and retire to my spot on the floor of my hotel room. After some work my roommate was kind enough to let me in, and my journey came to an end. I only hope my experience has not soured any of you on the Korean experience, as everyone needs some Syrian spice in their lives.
Cheers,
Collin
