Lost Moment

Last night my niece and I rushed down 56th Street to meet a designer friend at City Center for the Fall for Dance festival. Our meal ended later than anticipated, and I was concerned that I was late and that my waiting friend would be worried.

We passed two unusual ballet dancers smoking cigarettes outside of City Center's office door. These were tall men wearing full drag make-up, their hair in buns (with flowers), tutus, and point shoes.

Les Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo was on the program that night, so I figured they were members of the troupe.

Once I met my friend inside, I realized my camera was in my purse. My niece was visiting from Boston to see the performance. She has studied dance for many years, and attends a special arts school.

I will forever kick myself for not taking a photograph of my niece with the unusual ballerinas!

Ironing Boards

One of the lovely qualities of the Fall for Dance festival is the opportunity for someone relatively unfamiliar with dance to gain some expertise through exposure to many companies and types of dance within a short time frame.

As I watch all of these amazing athletes move in ways that would be impossible for my body, I study the composition of their bodies. What does a body have to look like to hold such potential movement?

The dancers are also quite young, and many of them are very attractive.

These attractive young men and women have model bodies. They don't have an ounce of fat on them, and every muscle group is in perfect working order.

Most of the ballerinas are flat chested.

I have been a dupe of the fashion and beauty industry most of my life. I finally grasped the extend to which models and actresses were digitally altered upon reviewing a friend's photography portfolio recently.

As I sat in the audience at City Center observing all of these model thin bodies with proportionate chests, I was stunned to realize the large proportion of female models and actresses who must have had breast augmentation surgery.

I recalled a line by Steve Martin comparing the silhouette of women in Los Angeles to ironing boards with bowling balls.

Of course I've known all along that the female ideal impressed upon US women is anything but normal. But it was a revelation to watch the tiny percent of young women who have actually obtained the nearly impossible body American women are led to strive for, and observe that surgery would be required to give even this elite group the so-called ideal form.

Go Before You Go

As a child, I resented the suggestion that I use the bathroom before leaving the house. After all, the only place without a facility would be the car. If the need arose, I could control it until a bathroom was available.

As a New Yorker, I religiously follow the childhood advice before leaving the apartment. There are very few public toilets in New York, and many of them are unpleasant.

Today I went to the Upper East Side to attend a dance class in Central Park. It takes about an hour to get there.

Although I had a "preemptive pee," I needed a bathroom by the time I approached Central Park.

In general, Starbucks are the most reliable public bathrooms in New York. I walked up Madison from 68 to 74 hoping to find a Starbucks. Instead I passed stores unlikely to share their facilities with me, such as Tom Ford, Ralph Lauren, Prada, Dior, and Dolche & Gabbana.

Finally, I noticed a Christian Science reading room. It seemed like a long shot, but it worked.

Once the emergency had passed and I was washing my hands, it amused me to note that there was no reading material in the bathroom of the Christian Science reading room.

They are missing an opportunity for an unusual marketing program.

A New Appreciation II

Nearly a week after our Met touch tour, my blind friend and I took a touch tour of the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA).

MoMA organized the tour on a day when the museum is closed to the public. We were accompanied by our guide (Paula), an observer from Spain who is a museum specialist (Lorda), and a museum guard who did not introduce himself.

Paula has a disability, and she and my friend quickly shared an understanding about their differences.

The tour began in the outdoor sculpture garden. We put on very thin gloves and began feeling a series of reliefs by Matisse which depict a woman's back. The reliefs are arranged in order chronologically. The first sculpture was completed in 1909 and the last one was made in 1931. My friend identified the various body parts and compared them from sculpture to sculpture. He noticed that the features changed dramatically in the later works. As the features became more abstract, he had difficulty identifying them as body parts.

This difficulty with abstract sculpture extended to pieces by Picasso and Boccioni. My friend could feel the features of a goat in Picasso's "She Goat" but he didn't appreciate the artist's use of mixed materials. The unusual components interfered with his understanding of the whole form.

He had a better experience with Giacometti's works. The texture of "Standing Woman" was unusual, but the form was easily recognizable.

Lorda pointed out that Giacometti was influenced by Egyptian art, and indicated that the feet were handled in a manner similar to ancient sculptures. Since we had recently taken a touch tour of the Met's Egyptian wing, my friend was able to compare the use of negative space in Giacometti's piece to the ancient Egyptian sculptures. He could also sense compositional similarities in the works.

While it was sometimes difficult to know what the artist tried to depict by feeling shapes, my friend had an uncanny ability to sense the composition of material. He could tell from one touch that a Barnett Newman sculpture was weathered and rusted.

Franz West's sculptures were probably the abstract pieces with the most appeal to my friend. He and I both taught kindergarten. When Paula and I described the works by comparing them to brightly colored bent pipe cleaners, my friend's face became animated. He could easily picture the pieces in his mind. As he stood inside an orange sculpture composed of rounded bands, he surprised us by declaring that he felt as if he were inside of a pumpkin. The word does resemble a pumpkin.

My friend also enjoyed Giacometti's sculpture "Hands Holding the Void." The features were more easily recognizable to him. Even an unusual feature, such as a face composed of an African mask, was discerned readily.

We talked about what the hands may have held. He and Lordes compared the composition to depictions of the Virgin Mary. Perhaps the hands held an infant Jesus who was not shown.

In the context of our project, the most striking feature of the sculpture was the similarity between its hands and those of my friend. Both appeared to be exploring space in an effort to gain greater understanding.

A New Appreciation I

I read about touch tours at the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Museum of Modern Art over a year ago, and wanted to schedule them for a dear friend who went completely blind in 2006. The tours take place during working hours on week days and must be planned weeks in advance.

When I became unemployed, I decided to take the opportunity to finally arrange these tours.

My blind friend has struggled to regain his bearings in the world. He has a wonderful spirit, and perceives his disability as a way of engaging with the world in a new way. His attempts to navigate this altered existence are inspirational.

We had a touch tour of the Met first. Our guide, Pam, began by taking us to the new Greek and Roman galleries. My friend visited the Met when he was sighted, but had not seen the new galleries. Pam directed him to the atrium where he could feel the warmth of sun streaming through the skylight. My friend recalled that the space had formerly been a restaurant, and the guide and I described how it changed.

My friend had visited Pompeii while sighted. In fact, we discussed it a lot when I visited Naples several years ago. With this in mind, I began to describe the new gallery by drawing on his knowledge of the mosaics and architecture of Pompeii. It helped to have this visual baseline to depict through comparison a picture of something he has not yet seen.

My friend's expression changed when I told him the black and white mosaic floors were similar to the Cave Canem mosaic. He said he could picture the dog mosaic in his mind. I explained that the type of tiles used in the new gallery were almost the same as those used in the Pompeii mosaic.

We discussed the layout of the room by comparing it to the atriums he saw in Pompeii. He nodded as he recalled the skylight, impluvium (pool to collect rainwater), and columns supporting the roof. The comparison helped him envision the new space. The warm sunlight and fountain under the skylight also supported his understanding.

We then went to the Egyptian wing to begin the tour in earnest. My friend felt stone sarcophagi and statues. He enjoyed feeling the pieces because it was a new way of experiencing the art. This was a museum experience he was denied as a sighted person.

He was encouraged to first feel around the whole piece to get a sense of its scale. It also set boundaries for what was part of the artwork and what was not. Sometimes he would feel a part of a pedestal and think it was incorporated in the art.

Then, he would feel the artwork's details. Sometimes he could figure out what they were intended to show, but he often needed descriptions to clarify what he was touching. For example, he could tell the was touching the eye of Hatsheput but he didn't know that the line he touched was a depiction of her eyeliner.

Often I was made aware of details about the items he touched by hearing the questions he posed and Pam's responses. I hadn't noticed that the line he touched was eyeliner rather than the rim of the eye.

As he felt a statue of Sakhmet we had a conversation about the ancient Egyptian's depiction of negative space. Ancient sculptors had not yet figured out a way to carve stones with projecting parts (such as outstretched arms or legs). Instead, the artists recessed the stone to keep prominent arms and legs in semi-relief. My friend was able to feel this depiction of negative space. It was a revelation for him.

Several of the pieces had been repaired over the years. My friend was able to quickly discern the differences in original and restorative materials. This was a distinction that was more difficult to see than to feel.

Once the touch tour was over, we returned to the Greek and Roman galleries. He asked me to describe the Etruscan chariot to him. He had seen it long ago.

Describing the piece aloud was a task that forced me to notice the art in greater detail. As I spoke, I saw for the first time strange compositional elements and decorative repetitions within different scenes on the chariot.

The touch tour's emphasis on details made me realize how much I overlook. I am not taking full advantage of my eyesight because I filter out much of what I see.

My friend and I left the museum shortly after the chariot description. He said it was depressing to hear about art he used to see. It was only fun to be in the museum experiencing something new.

We went for a walk in Central Park and happened to pass the boathouse.

I mentioned to my friend that I had always wanted to go boating in Central Park, but had not done so.

We were in a boat within an half hour. The staff at the boathouse could not have been more kind and upbeat about accommodating my friend and his guide dog.

It was a beautiful, early fall day. The lake was full of boaters.

At first I rowed because it was difficult to navigate around the many boaters. Once we reached a less crowded area, my friend took the oars. I navigated by tapping his hands to indicate which oar to row.

It was his first time rowing a boat since losing his sight. It was my first time boating in Central Park. We were both delighted to be there doing something new.

There are many ways to explore the world.