Grammy weekend saw a homecoming of sorts as Flaunt alum, [**Matthew Shultz**](https://www.instagram.com/mynameisbabyblue/) of [**Cage The Elephant**](https://www.cagetheelephant.com/home/), and emerging artist platform, [**Quantum Arts**](https://www.quantumarts.com), presented the launch of "Salon Series" at French bistro and Hollywood stalwart, [**La Poubelle**](http://www.lapoubellebistro.com/). "Salon Series" references turn of the century Parisian salons that featured thinkers, creators, and doers coming together to question, create, and grow ideas. Shultz presented artworks inspired by recent touring and read a new poem, featured below. Ultimately a prelude to Cage the Elephant's win for Best Rock Album the following eve, the celebration was filled with love and inquiry, aided by boutique Peruvian pisco sours from [**Caravedo**](https://caravedopisco.com/) and the sounds of the legendary [**Wade Crescent**](https://www.instagram.com/wadecrescent/?hl=en) on the ones and twos.
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PISTOL WHIPPED THAT CHRISTMAS FACE, YET FOUND MY NAME INSIDE THE SNOW
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From which you sang and seemed to praise
I became those yellow walls
I was the one who pistol whipped my Christmas
face To assume and groom the horse that raced
Who took first place?
Who took my place
While the foal screamed and neighed out-loud
Smiling on the inside
Nay sayer echoed out the catacombs,
Of the starting Gate
Bit in place, gaged the plea inside a page
And again, Yes.
I screamed nay,
I have screamed in, and outside the page,
The race
But I have seen the fine print of victory’s defeat
And now not by default or deceit
But by Love in action to intervene
The One who took first place
Took my place
Replaced my Christmas face
Took daddy’s place too
The spring of life, flowing true
So who am I?
Who am I to try and pistol whip that fine
china slinging babe bought with a price,
By the One who took 1st place
A price I can’t afford to pay
Climb to the top of my days
Bury the merry bones
Daddy was a cowboy, shooting from the hip?
What happens when that gun slinging
singing cowboy, that steer driver cry’s out,
“I am dead?” “A dead man walking?”
In a deep freeze still freed by fleece,
the dead man grows and glows
I judged those yellow painted walls
And yes,
Even true fine china can’t replace the time
A time, that time, those days,
a time and place
The baby howls, on and on
Calling on the Name,
While calling out the names?
Carrying on, carried on
Preyed and prayed upon
By birds of prayer, and birds of prey Perched, up in New York City
Lost but found, bird of the ground
Finely dined, man about the town
Home Alone made us laugh
Time to pass with flooded mind?
The war that laid ahead behind
And yes there where streets
They glittered in those darkened days
And yes I saw the haze,
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“The pieces on display are meant to represent a stream of consciousness or inner dialog during a time of crisis within a human being between self and the entity of Love. The question between two sides of each piece is, “which is the closer pretrial to an individuals actual state of being? And that, in reference to a broader state of being mutually witness and experienced. What effect does our perspective and observation, in action have, on our and others state of being?” —Matthew Shultz
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Photographed by: [Megan Cullen](https://www.instagram.com/megancullenphoto/)
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