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.

KOOL DADDY

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.

BURNISHED LEAVES AND TALL TREES

November 12, 2011.  I was walking.  The wind was moving the remaining leaves northward, and the sun was shining from its new southern slant.  It was a crisp morning.  And then I saw these Sumac leaves - red, orange, yellow, green and brown - they were being whipped by the wind.  So slight and crinkled, hanging on by a thread, pliable in the wind.  The sun highlighted their color, dappled by shadow in the early morning.  I stopped, others stopped too, curious as to what I was looking at.  And then they saw it.

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.

HIS FACE

October 20, 2011,  Paul.  Paul stares up from the sidewalk.  Paul knows you are looking and that is ok.  He is mildly amused tonight because of everyone that is passing by, some noticing him, some not.  It is after all, just a sidewalk, and any portrait there is bound to be stepped on, marred, altered, diminished or maybe enhanced.  Here is a face of expectation for himself and maybe only hope for others.

RED HOOK TEMPTER

October 16, 2011.  I am on my way to the closing of the BWAC Fall Show.  I take my favorite bus ride and I see this portrait as I ride by.  I know I have to go back.  I want to liberate you from this fence.  But I have no tools, and not the will to do this thing, to remove you from your designated place.  Will you be there later?  How will your form weather the coming frost, the winter, this season's sun?  This is your place, you will manage as best you can, as you were intended to do by whomever made you.  I will look for you again.  And in the darkness I will want to take you with me.

SO MUCH TO SAY

October 16, 2011.  Are our lives like this?  So many words pushing out, wanting to be heard, and what rises?  The biggest, the loudest, the brightest.  Or can I endeavor to hear you no matter where you are?  And if I see you, can I wade through all the noise to reach you and hear your voice?  All those voices, all those statements, all that importance, but in the end it sifts down to the singular.  Can I hear you when you are speaking to me and can I connect with your sorrow, your happiness, your worries - today, right now?  I want to come through the layers to find you and understand you.  Tomorrow I can reach another.  Today belongs to where I am and with whom I am.