Who knew I’d find a trove of my recently-discovered-favorite-downtown New York artist’s work in the middle of a colonial-era village out on Long Island?
Yesterday Wifey-Mae and I hopped the train out to Huntington, NY, on Long Island’s north shore. Nice little old commuter town, founded back to 1653. The graveyard was full of those flimsy brown headstones, about as thick as a road atlas, half of which had toppled over in in about 1896 making you just feel sorry for whomever’s underneath.
Anyway, after lunch at ye olde Pancho Villa’s Mexican Restaurant and an afternoon of ambling around, we stopped into a slick reataurant/lounge called Honu for a drink. Their brick walls were plastered with paintings by a guy named Peter Tunney, who keeps a studio in SoHo and a gallery in Midtown. I discovered his work a few weeks ago as I passed his place on 52nd and Fifth. Big, bold pop paintings; mostly words of wisdom layered on top of collages. They were cool enough in his gallery, but even better out there in the world, on the bricky walls behind a bar in a former colonial village.