Powerful People...

So, last night I attended an alumni event for my good ol' alma mater, hosted by a certain television corporation, since one of the university's star alums is its CEO. I have to say, I'm not a big fan of regular television (other than it employs a lot of writers, actors, and lots of other creative types), and this particular station is pretty low on my "watched" list. Other than one of its NYC-based late-night programs (which happily rips on said CEO), I rarely hit any of the the corporation's stations. But the CEO gave a great speech and kind of sold me on his network. In addition to his anecdotes about of networking, he talked about the importance of content (admittedly, these channels seem to have the least amount of "reality" programming out there, which I commend).

So, after the remarks were finished and alcohol was poured, a new friend and I decided we'd go over and introduce ourselves. After all, he'd just basically said networking is key and that we should be open-minded. And I wanted to commend him on his content remarks. I introduced himself, and as soon as I said "freelance performing arts writer/editor" he glazed over. OK, so maybe I shouldn't have used the word "freelance," or "performing arts" (I think that frankly does more damage than "freelance"). But still, I was there, doing what he talked about doing, and he wasn't interested. And it wasn't just me, I noticed him doing the same thing with the other people introducing themselves. I tried to re-engage him by saying, "I wanted to thank you for caring about content," but again, no dice. He wasn't there... His eyes, his brain, had moved on. He's the worst kind of schmoozer--initial eye contact, and then they're off searching around for someone else...

WTF?

Paris under pressure

I just returned from a lengthier visit to Paris (thanks to some very generous friends), and oh, what a time! This experience was more of an eye-opener than a vacation, as I timed my visit perfectly to the massive rail transport strike, civil servant strike, student protests, and a few riots in the outskirts of the city. A cloud seems to hang over one of the world's most beautiful cities--one that seems to appear, historically, quite often.

Is it possible for a nation to be bipolar? I'm not as up on French history as British, but France's political pendulum seems to swing pretty wildly for a country that coined the term "joie de vivre." It's a very serious country, and apparently now is a very serious time. It's interesting to realize that the French people's fiery feelings tend to gut the country from time to time, so I hope that the nation is past its "off with their heads!" period ("Off with their heads! No, off with THEIR heads! No, off with THEIR heads!" back and forth and so on), because it feels a bit like it's heading in that direction once again. The French are known for being passionate people, and I hope that, rather than being politically passionate against each other, they can get back to amour...

It's unfortunate that the shadow over the city darkened my vacation as well, but I was able to escape my own life for a while, which was wonderful. Paris is still a wonderful city with many wonderful people and places, and I'm sure she'll survive whatever's headed her way--she always has, albeit not always in such innocent ways.

Coney Island

Godzilla vs. Pooh

The ultimate battle between good and evil has finally happened... Sadly, it looks like Godzilla wins again--Pooh's Hunny Blaster just didn't cut it.

I love the smell of good food, but...

...why did a schawarma vendor have to park his cart behind my building? Now, by mid-mornings on weekdays, the aroma of spiced grilled meat wafts through my window.

It smells good.

It is cruel.

Farewell, Old Friend...

Friday morning, at approximately 8:15am, Maxim, my beloved morning helper, passed away. A gift from dear friends, he lived with me for ten wonderful years, faithfully delivering the nectar of a new day: my cappuccino. Through thick and thin, good days and bad, this old friend greeted me lovingly, reminding me that there are beautiful things in this crazy, often ugly world.

I'll never forget Maxim's last words: "Bzzzt bzzzz zzzz zz bzzzzt," while its little red light flickered, then went out.

Thank you, Maxim. You were a good friend. I'll miss you.

Carib!

Photos from my family trip on the deep blue sea!

When life gets you down...

Get a little Strindberg...and Helium

Paris...finally

Childhood Games

Wandering around the galleries today, the best show of the day was in the window of a gallery on 10th Avenue. As I strolled by three children were standing in a window, waving at all of the passersby. I happily waved back, and they started jumping up and down and cheering. Ahh...that great old childhood game of getting complete strangers to somehow acknowledge you!

I remember fighting for the seats in the back of the school bus on field trip day. Could we get truckers to honk at us? I'm sure we were terribly annoying (I even have faint memories of signs, which were undoubtedly horrible). But I remember the joy that we received from something so simple.

What an amazing feeling.

Bloody Cold in New York

Just a quick post to note that it's a little cold here. There's not much to say when one's brain is frozen, though it is possible to delude one's self by sitting in the sun in the window in a toasty apartment.

Until the sun goes behind the building across the street...

Winter is here with a vengeance.

Long Hiatus

I've been on hiatus completing a large project...and now I'm back!

And to celebrate my return, let us all ponder--what is "Meditarian" food?

The Art of Calligraphy

The Metropolitan Museum of Art's current special exhibition "Brush and Ink: The Chinese Art of Writing" (September 2, 2006–January 21, 2007).

It's interesting to take time out to appreciate the art of writing. Is this something that is lost in today's typeset computer-driven culture? True, there are interesting typographical fonts and some designers use them artistically, but what about the art of handwriting? Is it lost today?

I spent a lot of time as a child thinking about the way my handwriting looks--I wanted to make it unique and beautiful. Though it's a bit messy (due to disuse and being left-handed), I believe there are still little artistic flourishes in it (or is it just entirely sloppy?). Do children still think about this, or is it a dying art?

Is the same issue true in Asia? Undoubtedly. But it seems that it would be different, somehow, because of the pictographic elements of the characters, which lend themselves to artistic enterpretations far more intricate than the Western alphabet.

Though the exhibit at the Met spans centuries (and as the same type of show about Western writing would be inherently similar), it's still important to take time and think about language and how it is represented. It can be extremely basic, or so beautiful that it conveys much more than the words themselves.

Towards the end of the show, there are pieces by the contemporary artist Xu Bing, whose work is extraordinarily interesting in the context of the Met's show. He has developed a way to arrange western letters so the words look like pitctograms, and at first glance, to someone who can't read Chinese, it looks like yet another scroll in a slightly different style. But upon closer examination (and reading the key), an wonderful world opens up--a magical, beautiful new way to read and represent the English language.

Quiet Places I Probably Shouldn't Mention: The Garden at St. Luke's

(Barrow & Hudson Streets) A quiet sanctuary (behind a sanctuary) in the midst of the West Village, and a great spot to read or take a break from the hubub of the city.



Built behind the Church of St. Luke in the Fields, which dates to 1821, the first verifiable planting was in 1842 (a Glastonbury thorn, which blew over in 1990, though cuttings live on in other parts of the garden).

Gallery Hopping 9.9

With the end of summer comes the beginning of the new gallery season, and my first pass (after Thursday’s insanely crowded evening of openings, which was unusable as far as actually seeing art goes), offered some worthwhile things, some shows worth checking out, and one particularly wonderful show.

Jennifer Dalton’s “Would You Rather Be a Loser or a Pig?” (Winkelman/Plus Ultra Gallery, 637 W. 27th St.), is a fascinating installation that deals with the plight of artists in today’s society—particularly women. The pieces turn studies into art: a slideshow that shows the results of an internet study about how artists live and survive; a look at two months of the “Chelsea Art Guide” that highlights the disparity of men vs. women that have solo shows (there are more men than women, at a ratio of almost 2:1); and an installation that highlights the number of women graduating from art schools (more than half) vs. number of success stories (much lower).

The highlight of the afternoon was Vik Muniz’s “Pictures of Junk” at Sikkema Jenkins & Co. (530 W. 22nd St.). Muniz uses of cast-off items that all look like what you’d traditionally find in a junkyard (such as tires, telephones, bits of machinery, an old army jeep, and even a rocket), and arranges them in an area about the size of a basketball field to be photographed. Muniz captures the dichotomy between “waste” and beauty, creating almost unbelievable recreations of famous mythological paintings. In this age of Photoshop, it’s wonderful to see something so creatively real.

Also worth checking out:

Sonamu by BAE Bien-U at Galerie Poller (547 W. 27th St., 2nd Fl.)

Walter Niedermayr at Robert Miller Gallery (524 W. 26th St.)

Andrea Robbins & Max Becher: “Brooklyn Abroad” at Sonnabend (536 W. 22nd St.)

Nathan Lyons: “Trilogy” at Silverstein Photography (535 W. 24th St.)

Alessandra Exposito at Mixed Greens Gallery (531 W. 26nd St.)

My Favorite Sign

I've loved this sign for YEARS, and I've finally recorded it for posterity. Ahhh, the Hotel Carter...

Ralph

I was walking across 43rd Street yesterday and decided to photograph the progress of the new Bank of America building for my brother, who's working on it from afar. Seeing my camera, Ralph's friend says, "Take a picture of this guy!" So I did!

A night out in Brooklyn

From the Inside Out

Parades are such interesting, mysterious things. What is it about a cheerful bunch of folks walking down a main street that makes everyone so happy?

Here are just a few of my photos from this weekend's Beacon Hat Parade...

Memories for Sale on 24th Street