RED FISH

Saturday, February 23, 2013.  A red fish swimming in a yellow sea - maybe a premonition for my next diving trip.  I don't often see yellow coral, so maybe this fish has jumped out of the ocean to view the sun from a different point of view.

STOMPER

Saturday, January 26, 2013.  My nephew used to call draft horses 'stompers.'  I immediately thought of that when I saw this image worn into the orange safety strip on the subway.  It might be one of the Titans, and every time his foot reaches the earth it becomes huge, the other foot lifted into the surrounding universe, and small to our sight.

MOONLIGHT IN THE PRIMEVAL FOREST

Sunday, April 29.  Ah, what mysteries unfold in this corner of the forest, lit by the golden light of a full moon?  The figures meet and perform the ritual, the trees and vines as witness to the dance.  It makes me sad to know that this work will soon be gone, an ephemeral piece of our City.

PYRAMID

Sunday, March 11.  What an exquisite little contraption.  Teeth, teeth, teeth, suspended by crossed wires, floating in space and traveling through time.  All along, it was, left on the sidewalk, chained, as if to let it free it could wreck some havoc in the universe.  Maybe it is the answer to some cosmic question, yet to be asked. 

JEWEL

Saturday, March 3.  This little square looked like a jewel set into a giant white background.  Each small tile added to the overall unity, each successive square, somewhere down the line, just a bit different, but enough so.  In a subway dark and dreary they shone out like a beacon.

PLATFORM TADPOLES

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.

WHITE AND GREEN

October 30, 2011.  I love the milky white of subway tiles.  They are meant to just be background, to lull us, to not initiate any conflict, any struggle, any awareness.  Yet, they do the opposite.  On to them is projected a multitude of statements.  Maybe it is graffiti, or maybe it is a poster.  Just as often there are cracks that bleed through a multitude of glazes, glues and tar.  And then there is mold or some fungus.  In this case a wonderful green is growing and spreading, a Rorschach of sorts - small, isolated and exquisite.

SIGNS SIGNS SIGNS

August 20, 2011.  How much can we absorb, how fast, and is it in time?  So many things vie for our attention - warnings, information, help, directions.  The placement here is haphazard, the messages blurring or covering each other.  How will our future look when we understand the organization of complex messaging, moving things into pleasing formations that our mind will remember, recognize over and over and register without outright effort.

GRATE REPEAT

June 26, 2011. I am often amazed by something that I didn't see before. Why didn't I see this? What sorry shortening of vision caused me to miss it? What extraordinary vision caused this to come into being when there were so many options to do far less? The repitition of patter and the directing of the eye, subtly, but still insistent.

BANANA YELLOW

January 14, 2011. Yellow. The color of a banana, or pants for a banana. The color of a blazing summer sun, like the one we drew as children on those first sheets of paper - capturing the breezy days - or maybe just something to make a parent smile. Yellow is a happy color. It radiates warmth and optimism. We don't use it enough in our lives.

BLUE WRAPPER

October 14, 2010. Water changes everything. We get a downpour and the subway station platforms take on water, seeping through the cracks back into the earth through some endless fissures. Things get trapped in the water and changed, broken down, or given roots. Ink runs and smears, but this wrapper shimmers in the unforgiving overhead light. Maybe it will end up in some rat's nest as a possession. Or more likely it will be swept away by a broom or more water.

THREE CABALLEROS

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.

SUBWAY HOLIDAY LIGHTS

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.

SCRAPING

November 20, 2009. Walking up the A line at the 59th Street subway station I came across this support bean, which is where it always is, I just never noticed its particular beauty. The layers of paint and glue, cement and rust, have been stripped away in patterns at once designed and random. Someone just walked up and stripped away the sign that had been there, and the rest was exposed. Maybe the person tried to scrape away some of what remained. I love the look of the oxidized metal. And the pink above it reminds me of another artist, Ellie Greenberg, from BWAC. The colors look at peace with one another.

96th Street Sage

September 2, 2009. On my way to work. What a surprise to find these words, which I find important in approaching life. I might be, I often am, and sometimes I am not – I’m spot on. But I’m ready to hear what you have to say, see your point of view and consider that what I think might be wrong. I am open to so much more experience that way. But what a struggle! It’s a lot of work to try to stay open and available to new information as it arrives. Was the tag to the side the name of the sage, or an admirer who wanted to say ‘I second that.’?

Mushroom on 96

August 22. Some part of us drives us to take risks in order to leave a picture for those who come after us that says “I was here.” That we braved some challenge that others did not. Whether we were ancient hunters, loomed over by mastadons, or modern urbanites, as in this case, facing a live third rail and oncoming locomotives that could knock us into the next county. Does he like mushrooms or was she growing them? Any surface becomes a canvas.

88 at 96th

August 19, 2009. I’m on my way to work. The MTA tells me where I am. Someone unknown tells me where I should be. Is it a favorite restaurant, a rendezvous, a street? A yellow plastic number magnet. A child’s toy in the hands of a conspirator, teaming with an unknown designation from the MTA – 8. Maybe it is the eternal twice, no beginning and no end. I have been engaged.