Oscar Perry, The Michelin Star, 2018 | at The Commercial, Sydney



Oscar Perry
The Michelin Star

exhibition text by Oscar Perry



I was reincarnated as Gérard Depardieu’s tongue. We had some good years together 
The cases of Château Lafite and armies of frogs legs. I’ll never forget the weekend with princess Diana or the Russian insult about the man and his horse
After Depi cashed in his chips, I jumped ship and got a gig as Maradona’s right hand. 



Pinocchio is running swingers parties in the stomach of the whale
Harold Holt’s on prawn cocktails duties and Amelia Earheart is testing the chlorine levels in the hot tub
As I tip toe through the mattress room a deep sadness suddenly washes over me 



I imagined an island inhabited by only the very worst waiters.
Surrounded by a sea of soup. 
Huge flies like buoys bobbing with condescension.
A dirty untucked shirt flaps in the wind. Not quite a flag, not quite a sail.
There’s no message in the bottle just a disintegrated cork and mouldy divorce papers 
The campfire smells like cheap perfume and the cockroaches are wearing hairnets. 
HMS Gratuity is sinking and Garçon has just spilt the last of the summer wine.



It started back when cars and horses shared the road
In an attempt to get manure off my cowboy boots I kicked a car tyre. People stopped dead in their tracks 
The vibrations from my snakeskin boot hitting the rubber reverberated around the world. Suddenly everyone was an expert 
“How much do you want for it?,” I’d ask
In 1974 Bridgestone paid me a million dollars to kick an eighteen carat gold tyre over Mount Rushmore 
Eventually the physicality of the job took its toll. I tried kicking buckets but it wasn’t the same



I keep a picture of Paul Newman in my wallet
I peeled it off a Caesar Salad dressing in 1996
Since then one question has remained unanswered
Did Caesar ever eat salad? 
He fucked a lot. And crossed the Rubicon 
He drank wine from an Amphora and watched the Olympics
He conquered Gaul and wrote poetry
But I never read about any salad
Now that cunt Brutus
He probably loved salad 



I’ve always hopped on one leg to avoid ill fortune 
But now 
in the mid day sun
It seems that my luck has finally run out
Even the Michelin Man looks malnourished 
A drunk dressed as a vulture hands me a flyer 
“Six Tarot cards you never want to see” 
It’s peak hour and my suitcase smells like potato salad 



The electric carving knife turned itself on in the middle of the night
Suddenly the whole universe made perfect sense
I stirred three sugars through my coffee and scanned the Epoch Times
A famous Chinese flasher named Eddie Huang passed away on Tuesday
Apparently after losing his trench coat during the big winds of 86, he started breeding canaries for the coal mine
His birds saved hundreds of lives. However he never managed to repair his reputation 



I went to this restaurant.  The food was good but then waiter leaned in close and
whispered....This is the season for death....and then carved a pentagram into my Pizza
and then nobody else would acknowledge I was there.  
From that day everything changed.
Manuel from Faulty Towers died on Tuesday. He once said “I know nothing”
I watched his funeral from behind a big Elm tree.  No need to mention the war.
The Waldorf hysteria subsided after that. They'd caught the rat.
One day the chef said to me "If I lose a star I'll kill myself." I changed the subject
He didn’t even have a star. He wasn’t even a Chef. He didn't even have a kitchen.
I bought a GPS Navigation Devise and settled on the voice of Dennis Hoper
We drove up and down The Stelvio Pass for several weeks until money ran out
The Penfolds flag was flying at half mast.  Apparently someone drowned in bin 76
It wasn’t the Chef. No. Perhaps a resistance fighter or the wino mail man
Either way you look at it we lost a comrade. Take the second exit
A fruit wrapped coffin soaked in mature flavours…. warm oak and damp
earth…Tannins lingering. The inspector sits down at the table. Did Cesar ever eat
salad? Who discover the Oyster? And how much is too much?
A chimney sweep by the name of Maurice Garin won the first Tour De
France. He was pumped up on Horse Ointment and combination of
strychnine, cocainechloroformaspirin. That’s when Michelin got involved.
Pneumatic tires. Dennis Hopper has left the car and is drinking from a water
Fountain, He is talking to himself about Vietnamiese rubber plantations.
“And what about about the Phu Rieng Do? That where it all started
Michelin reinvented the wheel man, it changed everything"