December 2, 2011. I end my day walking over this pool of tar minnows massing at the end of the platform. Little tails, bulbous bodies, bumping in to each other, swimming over and under. They cross over a golden median, a divide to their worlds, a meaningless, shallow barrier, traversed with little effort. Tadpoles often puddle together, maybe for protection, maybe to become familiar, maybe for community.
December 1, 2011. Location, location, location. I get off the subway on the wrong end of the train and what do I see? Something I've never seen before, that's what. How many people contributed to this and how did each person decide to add to, or erase, what came before? Sometimes the MTA's lack of attention and slow repairs allow a thing of beauty to emerge, grow and adapt. It lifts my day.
As I travel around the City I am always aware of the art around me, in all of its forms. I enjoy watching the lamp posts as I pass by, the sides of buildings, the sidewalks, the sky, almost anywhere. Sometimes I spot artists I know from Union Square, Soho and elsewhere in the City.