Sunday Show & Tell

I had an unplanned afternoon at work today-- required due to a Friday 'fire' that consumed most of my morning to resolve and thus totally blew up my carefully planned schedule.  As one would guess, I was not exactly a happy camper.  My grumpiness was somewhat eased by the walk there-- it was a beautiful day, and I walked the 30+ blocks to midtown.  I also walked back in the dusky light.  About 3 miles round trip.

I wandered up Park Avenue for most of the return home.  I've not spent much time on Park, and it feels different than the other parts of the city that I've explored.  The upper East 40s are a soulless grouping of businesses (JP Morgan, KPMG, BMS and Colgate-Palmolive all have offices there) and so it was a perverse delight to stumble across Hello Kitty in one of the courtyards (above).

The gray offices slowly gave way to stately condominiums.  I walked passed a parade of well-dressed older women with seriously stiff hair pulled back to reveal expensive earrings.  There were few restaurants or shops on the street, thus making the avenue rather dry, and lacking life.  There were pockets of beauty, though:

 

I have difficulty imagining having enough money to live in a home like the one above.  Right in the middle of Manhattan.  It was three stories. 

Other details also delighted:

Once I got closer to home, in the east 60s, I found my guerilla artist (Road Less Traveled )once again:

How can you stay grumpy after walking in the warm evening and being reminded by little fish and a snake to become your dream?  Pretty hard to do.  I am at peace again, and have left the work behind.

A pleasant morning walk

The air was cool and moist this morning, and felt lovely on my skin.  Invigorated, I took a slight detour on the way to the subway station in search of signs of spring.

First there was the building with its hair on fire:

Down the street, you could almost feel one tree stretching out her limbs and her blossoms unfolding its petals:

After admiring the tree, I turned around to cross the street and was greeted by a lamp.

Lots of lamps.

What sort of place would have such unique lamps as decoration? I searched for a sign.

Ah, a school. 

Why on earth would there be a school for genies?  Perhaps a sister school to Hogwarts?  I'm surprised they're out in the open, though-- surely they'd be continually petitioned by Wishers.

I puzzled over it for awhile. It wasn't until I sat down at my desk at work that I realized it was a Lamp of Knowledge.

I like the magic genie explanation better, though, don't you?

The Road Less Traveled

I was running a bit late for work this morning, but nonetheless decided to take a slight detour and walk to the subway via a different street.  I was immediately rewarded:

I walked a bit further down and found:

This "Become Your Dream" artist has often made his mark on my neighborhood, and he occasionally breaks from the fish-with-feet to instead draw snakes, all of them admonishing passers-by to Become Your Dream.  He (I do believe he is a He) becomes particularly active on garbage days, and leaves his images on discarded cardboard, tables, toilets, anything with enough surface space.

I hope some day to catch him at his craft, but suspect he might be a bit like the enigmatic Banksy (for those unfamiliar with Banksy, go right away to: http://www.banksy.co.uk/outdoors/horizontal_1.htm).  There is no comparing the art of the two, of course, but they are both mysteries to me and both make me smile.

Magical Mystery Tour on the 6

Okay, ready for an adventure?  A long one?  I got a little carried away on my ride home tonight.  Over the past week I've become more and more aware of the mosaic tiles that announce each subway stop.  They're quite beautiful, and such care has been taken to create and mount them.  I decided to stop at each station and take a photo.  As often happens in NY, though, a simple lark becomes far more fun and interesting than originally imagined.

Start: Grand Central Station:

On the ride from 42 to 51st, I heard a mewing.  "meow meow meow" in a tiny little voice.  I looked around me and saw a young woman holding a mesh bag with a kitty that was no bigger than my hand.  "Her name is Georgia," she said to my inquiring look.  "I'm bringing her to the vet."  Another woman offered, "I took in a stray cat.  I thought she was fat.  But she was pregnant."  The door opened, and I got off.

Nothing too interesting.  Got on the train again and noticed a young balding man reading a book on the Alexander Technique.  Appropriately, he seemed very relaxed.

On to the next stop, 59th:

Nice to be serenaded by a jazz guitarist on a Monday night.

On to the next stop:

I spent much longer at 68th than I had planned.  So did everyone else.  The doors stayed open and open and open.  Finally: "There is a police investigation on 103rd.  All trains are on hold.  Please be patient".  No one said a word, just waited.  Every minute or so another person pealed off and decided to walk home.  Finally, 10 minutes later, a half-full train started again.  On to 77th:

Lovely west African music.  On to 86th...

Oh my!  Tile explosion.... 

Can I just say that I LOVE a city that sponsors such crazy art in public spaces?  I totally freaked out.  People rushed by.  Is there anyone that actually stops and looks at these miracles?  Each figure so tenderly crafted with tiny tiles.  Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful.

Okay, on to the next stop- 96th....

And so the day, and the journey, is done. 

Moving Art

Art, intended and unintended, expected and unexpected, is everywhere in New York.  One unexpected place is the subway.  Each subway car has its share of advertisements, but the MTA (Metropolitan Transportation Authority) also features art and poetry-- Robert Frost was a recent commuter companion.  My favorite is the work of Béatrice Coron.  I caught my breath the first time I saw her print-- it's intricately detailed, playfully showing a multitude of city scenes. The print itself appears to be a paper cut, though I can't imagine the subway version is actually so.  The photos below do not do justice to her work; I recommend checking out her website: http://www.beatricecoron.com/.  Also: http://collections.madmuseum.org/code/emuseum.asp?emu_action=media&id=7299&mediaid=26660

Friday Night Delight

It's been a long week. A north-of-60-hours week. I collapsed against a column, yearning for the train. Train arrived, too many people, I let it pass in hopes I could find breathing room in the next one.

Waiting waiting waiting waiting...my right ear perked. Was that a trombone?

Yes.

I scooped up my bags and headed back up the stairs.










I ♥ New York.