Sunday, January 31, 2010


January 31, 2010. CPW at 95th. Look at that face. Baron von Fancy. A round pink angel with diamond blue eyes. It was blistering cold today, yet the Baron raises his eyes and sings to heaven. How carefully this piece was selected for its site, to subvert the warnings that were stamped into the door that now maybe opens a portal to a world created by the Baron. Be careful. Yes, he has a website.


January 30, 2010. Broadway in Soho. How does an urban designer soften the edges of cement, curbs, cars and buildings that blot out the sun? One way might be to think about where we put our feet. Can we walk down the street over diamonds and in beauty? I think that this artist thought so. These circles of colored glass in violet, blue and pink glisten in the sunlight and must have stunned everyone on the day they were laid down. It reminds me of something I read: "Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the foot that crushed it." This sidewalk was made to walk on, to spread its beauty underfoot.

Friday, January 29, 2010


January 29, 2010. How’s this for optimism? And why not? Isn’t every problem just an opportunity? I found this interesting that Neckface chooses to turn the statement literally on its head. The label is on its head, opposite from your expectation of how it is usually presented. But Neckface knows, and put her/his name in the From window. How excitedly this idea is presented to us, with 3 exclamation marks!!! The E’s are so excited, they are almost walking off the label.

Thursday, January 28, 2010


January 26, 2010. Well, there it was, posted next to Neighborhood Barbers. It felt like a burlap sandman, bug-eyed, staring at whomever passed by. The chocolate swirls in the back stand in stark contrast to the mesh of this face, and that is juxtaposed to the floral print it was pasted over.

Sunday, January 24, 2010


January 23, 2010. Night in the Meat Packing neighborhood. This clown is watching all the tourists walk by – unmoved, amused or something else? The image was layered over other cut-out and painted images from any number of artists, but this was the final image, until it isn’t, which could be tomorrow.


January 22, 2010. A side street between Church and Broadway. All that was missing for a sidewalk Christmas was a discarded tree, of which there are an abundance in my neighborhood. These bags, filled with the detritus of some office, apartment or shop, were almost sparking white in the morning sun, tied with red bows, scattered on grimy cement, walked past by a thousand hurried feet. The shapes were so holiday package-like that I very nearly wanted to open them and peer inside, half expecting to find some surprise. I didn’t do it. I walked past, then returned to snap this shot.

Wednesday, January 20, 2010


January 20, 2010. Fowl, he cried. A window full of Guinea fowl were staring at us as we walked past them on 9th Avenue. Don saw them, and suggested I take out the cell camera. I think these birds may be among the funniest cartoon-like creatures I know. My friend Molly and her family raised Guinea hens and I was always amused at their large bodies, tiny heads and running little feet. These smooth little shapes, some solid and some patterned, are perfectly textured and formed to accentuate the oddities of the bird and the repetition of the shape creates an amusing line for the eye.

Monday, January 18, 2010


Sunday, January 17, 2010. Who is it that arrived home only to find they had left their mask somewhere along the roadway? How many tears were shed in remorse and loss? Or was this a super hero, bounding from rooftop to rooftop, scampering between the alleys, a mini pink panther, saving little lost souls, or monitoring the neighborhood for bullies taking lollipops from babies? What did the rest of the uniform look like?


Sunday, January 16, 2010. One of my favorite things is when I am surprised by the subway musicians. These three men (2 guitars & a base) were a welcome surprise on what could have been a rainy, chilly & dreary subway ride. I like the voices that sometimes don’t blend, and that when some of the men sing in English they don’t bother with the words, just the sounds, just the tones, only the idea that their voice is moving from note to note. If I wasn’t usually on my way somewhere I would want to follow them around, just to hear more. It would be another adventure. I don’t know where they start or stop.

Wednesday, January 13, 2010

Sunday, January 11, 2010. In NY we always think about space and economy and transport. We want things that stack. We want to efficiently use vertical space. There’s only so much floor to use, only so much ground, only so much square footage. Ah, but stacking, why we could stack up to the sky! We also want to be able to move a lot, at once. Things that stack are so important here.

Sunday, January 11, 2010. Even when we have things that shouldn’t stack we still want to. Find something that will confine dissimilar objects, and voila, they will stack. Perfect, they only have to wait until tomorrow, and the stackables will be gone.

Sunday, January 11, 2010. Well, this wasn’t from this Sunday, but it was from a Sunday some months ago. The same principle applies though – how do we effectively use space to make the most of what this little island has to offer.


January 9, 2010. Saturday and I was on a walk around Silver Lake in West Harrison. You see these little paths that lead off to somewhere. Off the path, away from the markers. It was cold and we were playing follow the blue square, until we followed the white square. But it was a beautiful afternoon, not too cold, just snowy and sun dappled. There’s something about boulders rising up from the ground, white striations of minerals striping the rock. It always seems so wild to see them, like rocks are alien intruders in a placid landscape. Maybe it’s because we expect that they extend to the core of the earth, that they support the very ground we walk on, or that we suspect they have been here forever.

January 9, 2010. Still on the walk around Silver Lake. This little framed view was to the lake, in the background, visible only through the branches and tree trunks. The sky behind us was a beautiful blue, the sky in this direction was grey, and from here, it was smoky and misty. But the view was intriguing, inviting you to walk through, even though I didn’t, like I thought some ancient trap would spring and capture me. I couldn’t risk that – I had responsibilities. No adventures just now.

Monday, January 4, 2010


January 3, 2010. These birds couldn’t have cared less how close I came to them. It was cold and they were alone, trying to catch the warming rays from what little sun there was on the steps of the 33rd Street Post Office. The soft grey and purple of the chest feathers gathering just at the round of the breast, the bill tucked into this feathery mass. The bird to the right is almost a perfect cold weather pose and seems to be the only outward looking bird, maybe aware of this human mass approaching it – with no outstretched hand to offer sustenance.


January 2, 2010. Holiday Christmas lights in the subway. Each bulb was screwed into its lantern, one at a time, as the workers watched one man make each selection – white, red and green. And then off they went, into the darkness of the tunnel, to do whatever it is that subway men do.