Tuesday, November 30, 2010


November 28, 2010. A bike rack, a stanchion, a shape I remember from the farm, at milking time. Stanchion balanced on stanchion, each throwing their own shadow, mingled with shadows from the rest of the street fixtures, the cars and the people.


November 27, 2010. They walk among men, giants by any standard, but they leave few markers, except maybe once in a while a footprint, just to remind us. This is the print of a powerful being, with feet and hands that have wrought great things. There is no proportion, they are just large, significant, important. The feet lead forward to achievement, the hands to fashion deeds of great majesty - leave the details to those creatures with finer features.

Friday, November 26, 2010


November 24, 2010. Holiday travel, before the rush, when everything is bathed in a golden glow and the day holds the promise of family, food and preparation. I love the cavern of Grand Central with its messy pedestrian pathways - no matter where you stand, someone is bound to bump into you, as if the magnetic connection between us is too strong to overcome. Then above us is that serene space, the heavens, unmoved and blue, and the between spaces glowing golden from those brilliant chandeliers. All in this one space - people on the move, people waiting, people anticipating - and the walls absorb all of those hopes and anxiety. But for me, there is this golden glow, always.

Tuesday, November 23, 2010


November 21, 2010. Like someone waiting for the second coming, this snowman is waiting for the first snowfall. Perched in this branch, he mixes the seasons, spring and fall, and hopes for winter. His face is upturned, daring the sun to do its best to prevent the coming change. Change is inevitable, and cyclical, and the snowman is comforted by this knowledge. Patient.

Friday, November 19, 2010


November 17, 2010. Crossing the temporary bridge that has been there for a long time you can walk right past these stunning reliefs on the AT&T building in lower Manhattan. Prior the bridge being there, you had to crane your neck upward to see them. Now, at least for another few years, you can see them at eye level, in all their intricate glory. Stop, look, enjoy.

Sunday, November 14, 2010


November 14, 2001. My life repeats itself. I'm not sure if it is in threes or repeats of threes, but I'm all sixes and sevens. In the little things of life, all of us repeat ourselves, even those that live the most carefree life. We develop habits, we develop themes, and we develop patterns. I find none of those things disturbing. And then there can be repeating things that appear random, but maybe our eyes and our intellects create repeating themes and patterns because we find them safe or familiar or pleasant. Why were these hats placed so closely together? Was it a deliberate act, or a random act that reflected the camaraderie of the workers? I kind of like that idea.

Monday, November 8, 2010


November 6, 2010. Van Brunt Street in Red Hook seems to be a haven of sorts for the image of the floating Mary, this one on the back window of a Kia. The driver takes her along wherever he goes. On a road trip she greets you as you pass, sending blessings for a safe journey, maybe a pleasant one. She floats in her bubble, the reflected clouds drifting by, and the elements kept at bay by her aura. I wonder if this is the same man who keeps the image of the Virgin of Guadalupe over his bed.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010


November 1, 2010. Tucked into a nook of a building was this styrofoam creation. The owner may have been standing nearby, casually smoking, but he wasn't letting on that it was his. Is it an act of resistance or defiance? Or is it posing the question of who really pays attention to what is plainly visible? Do we only see what we want to see? I want to see what is inside, to see what lead you to create this, and what you want it to do.