Unlike subways in other parts of the world, New York's subway has awful sound systems. Most announcements are garbled and unintelligible.
On the way home from the Metropolitan Museum of Art today the E train was held at the 50th Street station. The announcement that came through the sound system speaker was a jumble of static save a single word: patience.
For once, I appreciated the notoriously crappy public address system. This message said it all and did so simply.
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Digital Divide
This seems to be a time of utter collapse on a macro and micro level. Many things that I have feared have come to fruition in the past year. I had to move from my lovely apartment, I lost my job, and now my computer is broken and I can't use my cell phone (my only phone). It is as if there is some larger force pushing me off of the grid at the very time I need to be on the grid to get work.
I found out that my cell phone had not properly tracked my cell phone usage. Now my bill for March will be three times the usual cost. Every minute is now charged at $0.45. The phone is off until next week when my minutes renew.
Last week, I took my computer to the repair shop to have the DVD drive replaced. It broke about 6 months ago, but I put off fixing it in the hopes of finding a friend who could do it. The more I investigated, the more I realized how complicated it was to get the right replacement part.
Then, I started getting threatening pop-ups telling me I needed updates that would require having my restore disk ready.
Of course, I didn't have a restore disk because my disk burner wasn't operating. I was worried that I would miss clicking "no" on this pop-up and end up having my computer erased, so I decided to bite the bullet and get the DVD drive fixed.
While the computer was in the shop, I tried the alternative computing place: the public library.
I love the public library system in New York. The librarians at every branch I've been to are exceptional. You can get just about any book from the library, and if the branch doesn't have the book, you can get PDFs of what you want sent to your computer. They also have a wide selection of DVDs or videos in several languages. Books, tapes, and DVDs can be ordered online and the library gives email notification when items are ready for pick up at the closest branch. All of these services are free.
Unfortunately, using a computer at the library was a very unpleasant experience. First, there was an hour wait to get 45 minutes of computer time. Second, the neighborhood homeless population was occupying the library. There are several tables for patrons by the computers. Every seat was filled and the stench of unwashed bodies was not pleasant. The scene could have been an illustration for a modern adaptation of a Charles Dickens or Victor Hugo novel.
Unlike many Libertarians and Republicans, I don’t mind paying taxes to sustain civil society. What enrages me is that about 40% of my paycheck goes to taxes yet people are living on the street instead of receiving proper services. They belong in treatment centers, not the public library.
At this point, I decided to leave although I still had 15 minutes of computer time remaining. I was seated inches between a hostile homeless woman on the left and an odiferous homeless man with a hacking cough on my right. His hands were covered with some kind of skin infection, which made me wonder whether I was exposing myself to a similar infection by using the mouse. The last thing I need is to contract some illness when I don’t have health insurance.
The library bathroom had clearly been abused. It reeked of urine. No water ran from the taps. There was no opportunity to wash my hands until I got home.
I am getting $270 a week in unemployment (it is $405 pre-tax). I should be conserving my resources, but it is better for me to spend hundreds to get my computer fixed or to buy a new computer than to use the library computer resources.
Much business is conducted on email rather than the phone. Potential employers demand that applications be completed online. It doesn't make sense to spend an hour waiting for a 45 minute session on a slow, outdated computer at the library where I risk getting sick or verbally abused.
Homeless people are legitimate library patrons. They have a right to library services like everyone.
However, libraries are not intended to be homeless shelters or mental services facilities, and I feel terrible for people who have to rely on libraries like this one for computer services. Services for the mentally ill and homeless should be provided so library patrons can have access to library resources in the environment in which a library was intended: a clean, welcoming environment where everyone may conduct research and read.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Spring Awakening
I had to travel to the Upper East Side again today. I took my computer back to the repair shop and then went to a doctor’s appointment.
Without a phone or computer there is very little I can accomplish. I have already cleaned my apartment and done my cooking for the week. It's strange that in the height of an anxious situation (scrambling for employment), leisure has been forced upon me.
I had an errand to run on the other side of Central Park and the weather was fair, so I decided to take advantage of my free time and walk through the park.
This has been a cold winter in New York City. It snowed on the first day of spring. With the cold air and limited exposure to the outdoors, it is easy to forget that nature continues to follow its season cycle whether it seems like spring to New Yorkers.
Today was sunny, but still chilly. As I walked along the paths by Wollman Rink and the Hallett Nature Sanctuary, I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by signs of spring.
Large clumps of yellow, purple, and white crocuses created mats of color on the park floor. Forsythia bushes blazed like suspended yellow fireworks displays. The trees were dotted with subtle buds of chartreuse. Even a few early daffodils exposed their sunny faces.
As I exited, I heard a strange sound in a tree. After a moment of careful looking, I spied a brilliant blue jay on a shaded branch.
It had been an awful week of setbacks, yet these signs of spring reminded me that unpleasant things can change. Events may be different from what they appear to be. Forces of good are at work. There are reasons to be hopeful.
Without a phone or computer there is very little I can accomplish. I have already cleaned my apartment and done my cooking for the week. It's strange that in the height of an anxious situation (scrambling for employment), leisure has been forced upon me.
I had an errand to run on the other side of Central Park and the weather was fair, so I decided to take advantage of my free time and walk through the park.
This has been a cold winter in New York City. It snowed on the first day of spring. With the cold air and limited exposure to the outdoors, it is easy to forget that nature continues to follow its season cycle whether it seems like spring to New Yorkers.
Today was sunny, but still chilly. As I walked along the paths by Wollman Rink and the Hallett Nature Sanctuary, I was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by signs of spring.
Large clumps of yellow, purple, and white crocuses created mats of color on the park floor. Forsythia bushes blazed like suspended yellow fireworks displays. The trees were dotted with subtle buds of chartreuse. Even a few early daffodils exposed their sunny faces.
As I exited, I heard a strange sound in a tree. After a moment of careful looking, I spied a brilliant blue jay on a shaded branch.
It had been an awful week of setbacks, yet these signs of spring reminded me that unpleasant things can change. Events may be different from what they appear to be. Forces of good are at work. There are reasons to be hopeful.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
A Continuing Thread
Today I met my abstract painter friend at the Rubin Museum of Art to see "Color and Light" an exhibit of embroidered cloth from India and Pakistan.
The Rubin Museum is housed in what used to be Barney’s department store. Barney’s downtown was a wonderful institution. It was a quaint store of esoteric and exquisite goods. About a decade ago, it transformed from boutique artsy Alexander McQueen to box store, label-whore Paris Hilton. It moved uptown into larger, flashier space and filed Chapter 11 shortly afterward. Barney’s left a lovely empty shell of a building on the corner of 17th Street and 7th Avenue which remained vacant for years.
Fortunately, a wealthy couple with a wonderful Asian art collection saw the potential in the building. They bought it, made gentle renovations, and now have a lovely little museum in Chelsea.
The Rubin’s Museum exhibit spaces are perfectly sized for Asian art. Classical Asian art tends to be dense with ornament. There is so much information in each piece that I find it best to look at a limited number of pieces at one time. Here, the exhibition spaces allow viewers to see a collection of approximately 30-50 pieces on each floor. I believe this exhibit had about 35 pieces, which was ideal.
There was a mix of Hindu (figurative) and Muslim (non-figurative geometric, plant-forms) work. Many of the pieces were rich with subtle, abstract depictions of deities or symbols that only emerged after careful observation (such as the abstract Ganeshe in the early 1900s Kathi bedding cover or dharaniyo).
The use of materials in these pieces is interesting. A mid 1900s wedding dress or jumlo from the northwest Frontier Province of Pakistan included zipper parts stitched into tight coils. Beetle wings or elytra sewn into the boarder of a dresser scarf formed iridescent flower petals and leaves. An indigo thread was embedded under heavily quilted white cloth from Kashmir which was intended as a sort of window shade. When illuminated in a sunny window, the blue thread would emerge as a delicate line.
The layering and juxtaposition of materials and design elements is also intriguing. The base of a large bridal or festival head cover or odhani from Bharwad community in Gujarat was a black tie-dyed cloth. It appeared that a dotted design had been formed using tied-up seeds (a method I witnessed in Jodphur). A stitched border mimicked the white tie-dye design, and was further embellished with an adjacent border design in bright colored threads. This build up of the design from fabric dye to stitching gave it a subtle dimensional effect. The fabric appears to get thicker along the edges.
The intervals of black and white and brightly colored designs energized the piece with a suggestion of movement or radiance. The wide borders along the short ends of the cloth were heavily embroidered with bright colors and the stitches built up in piles of thread. Small mirrors were sewn into the patterns, which lent a greater sense of depth when the flatness of the mirror was contrasted with the topography of the stitches.
Another bridal or festival head cover called a abochhini from Sindh Pakistan had a similar dotted tie-dye fabric base cloth. The embroidered and mirrored border only covered the two long ends. The border stretched into the center of the headress in two floral-covered swastikas. The geometric, floral, and dyed designs complemented each other beautifully. The rustic, unfinished quality of the tie-dyed fabric was balanced by the controlled geometric pattern and polished floral design.
After viewing the show, we decided to make an impromptu visit to Jackson Heights. We had Indian food for lunch and shopped in the Indian music, clothing, jewelry, and grocery stores.
Of course, the cloth at the stores wasn’t as fine as what we viewed at the museum, but the designs, color choices, and stitches echoed what we had observed. It makes me happy to see that these traditions continue in some form.
The Rubin Museum is housed in what used to be Barney’s department store. Barney’s downtown was a wonderful institution. It was a quaint store of esoteric and exquisite goods. About a decade ago, it transformed from boutique artsy Alexander McQueen to box store, label-whore Paris Hilton. It moved uptown into larger, flashier space and filed Chapter 11 shortly afterward. Barney’s left a lovely empty shell of a building on the corner of 17th Street and 7th Avenue which remained vacant for years.
Fortunately, a wealthy couple with a wonderful Asian art collection saw the potential in the building. They bought it, made gentle renovations, and now have a lovely little museum in Chelsea.
The Rubin’s Museum exhibit spaces are perfectly sized for Asian art. Classical Asian art tends to be dense with ornament. There is so much information in each piece that I find it best to look at a limited number of pieces at one time. Here, the exhibition spaces allow viewers to see a collection of approximately 30-50 pieces on each floor. I believe this exhibit had about 35 pieces, which was ideal.
There was a mix of Hindu (figurative) and Muslim (non-figurative geometric, plant-forms) work. Many of the pieces were rich with subtle, abstract depictions of deities or symbols that only emerged after careful observation (such as the abstract Ganeshe in the early 1900s Kathi bedding cover or dharaniyo).
The use of materials in these pieces is interesting. A mid 1900s wedding dress or jumlo from the northwest Frontier Province of Pakistan included zipper parts stitched into tight coils. Beetle wings or elytra sewn into the boarder of a dresser scarf formed iridescent flower petals and leaves. An indigo thread was embedded under heavily quilted white cloth from Kashmir which was intended as a sort of window shade. When illuminated in a sunny window, the blue thread would emerge as a delicate line.
The layering and juxtaposition of materials and design elements is also intriguing. The base of a large bridal or festival head cover or odhani from Bharwad community in Gujarat was a black tie-dyed cloth. It appeared that a dotted design had been formed using tied-up seeds (a method I witnessed in Jodphur). A stitched border mimicked the white tie-dye design, and was further embellished with an adjacent border design in bright colored threads. This build up of the design from fabric dye to stitching gave it a subtle dimensional effect. The fabric appears to get thicker along the edges.
The intervals of black and white and brightly colored designs energized the piece with a suggestion of movement or radiance. The wide borders along the short ends of the cloth were heavily embroidered with bright colors and the stitches built up in piles of thread. Small mirrors were sewn into the patterns, which lent a greater sense of depth when the flatness of the mirror was contrasted with the topography of the stitches.
Another bridal or festival head cover called a abochhini from Sindh Pakistan had a similar dotted tie-dye fabric base cloth. The embroidered and mirrored border only covered the two long ends. The border stretched into the center of the headress in two floral-covered swastikas. The geometric, floral, and dyed designs complemented each other beautifully. The rustic, unfinished quality of the tie-dyed fabric was balanced by the controlled geometric pattern and polished floral design.
After viewing the show, we decided to make an impromptu visit to Jackson Heights. We had Indian food for lunch and shopped in the Indian music, clothing, jewelry, and grocery stores.
Of course, the cloth at the stores wasn’t as fine as what we viewed at the museum, but the designs, color choices, and stitches echoed what we had observed. It makes me happy to see that these traditions continue in some form.
Friday, March 20, 2009
A Girl Like That
Once again I rushed to
They appeared to be about 16-18 years old. He was African-American. The girl had cafe au lait colored skin and brown eyes. She could have been Latino, African-American, or Middle Eastern. It was difficult to gauge her ethnicity.
Seeing amorous teenage couples doesn’t really bother me. It is a fact of life that adolescent kids fool around and many of them have sex.
However, the young woman wore a veil over her hair. It surprised me to see a young Muslim girl engaging in a public display of affection. She was modest enough to cover her hair, yet she would allow herself to be kissed and pawed by her boyfriend in front of hundreds of strangers.
There was a Muslim woman in my graduate program cohort. Through that acquaintance, I know enough about Islam to know that this kind of behavior is forbidden. From what I have read about practices in other parts of the world, even if this girl were married she could be jailed or worse for acting this way in public. If her parents or brothers saw her, most likely she would be severely punished.
When I didn’t win the ticket lottery a half hour later, I returned to the same subway stairway. The couple had not moved, and the girl’s veil was still in place. They could be the Maria and Tony of 21st century
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Somewhere, Sometime
The Broadway revival of West Side Story is the current sensation in
Broadway ticket prices are out of control. Several years ago, a $125 prime orchestra ticket was considered outrageous. Now those tickets are $325. When Broadway theaters champion weak productions (i.e. Legally Blonde, Young Frankenstein) and charge these prices, it is clear why they are in financial peril.
Unless a show is a blockbuster hit, a high percentage of seats will be empty for performances. From what I understand, generally about a third of the seats for regular Broadway shows are unsold. The theaters don’t want empty seats because it makes the production look like a failure. So, empty seats are sold through a variety of cheaper venues, such as student rush tickets, TKTS, or a seat-filling agency (i.e. Play by Play).
Through my friend’s generosity, I recently secured prime orchestra seats (a $325 value according to the prices listed by the box office) for Impressionism through student rush for $26.50. Although the actors (Jeremy Irons, Joan Allen, Andre De Shields) are top notch, the play is not. I doubt it will have a long run or sell many seats at $325, $125, or $60.
Although I am not a financial wiz, I suspect that with its star power cast this weak play would have enough appeal to fill seats at $50 and $25. Ironically, the greed of the theater owners seems to be an obstacle to making money on the many poor productions they run.
However, the buzz for West Side Story is very good and anyone left in
Shortly before 6, I arrived at the theater. It was mobbed. The crowd filled up the already crowded street in
At 6pm, he stood at the door of the theater and called out the names of the lucky people who won tickets. Alas, my name was not called.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
The Uncanny Voice of Conscience
Tonight I got on the E train at 42nd and immediately sat down to read through my Playbill.
At the next stop I heard a voice chastise someone for putting their feet on the train seat. There are many times on the subway when I see people do things they shouldn't, such as litter or spill food on the floor. I want to say something but don't because I don't want to risk engaging some unstable person in a conversation or shouting match.
I looked up to inspect the good Samaritan.
He was a homeless man sitting in a corner of the car behind a supermarket cart stacked 5 feet high with aluminum cans. Not only does he enforce the subway rules, he is keeping the city streets clean and recycling.
At 23rd street the offending passenger must have exited the train. The homeless man was waving his hand and saying loudly "Good riddance. You're not wanted here."
As I stepped out, I wondered how many people on the train were silently sharing his sentiment. So often I have wanted to say similar words when rude riders exited a car.
This fellow and I haven't talked and we lead very different lives, yet in the span of this brief ride I learned that we have common values and that I admire things about this stranger.
At the next stop I heard a voice chastise someone for putting their feet on the train seat. There are many times on the subway when I see people do things they shouldn't, such as litter or spill food on the floor. I want to say something but don't because I don't want to risk engaging some unstable person in a conversation or shouting match.
I looked up to inspect the good Samaritan.
He was a homeless man sitting in a corner of the car behind a supermarket cart stacked 5 feet high with aluminum cans. Not only does he enforce the subway rules, he is keeping the city streets clean and recycling.
At 23rd street the offending passenger must have exited the train. The homeless man was waving his hand and saying loudly "Good riddance. You're not wanted here."
As I stepped out, I wondered how many people on the train were silently sharing his sentiment. So often I have wanted to say similar words when rude riders exited a car.
This fellow and I haven't talked and we lead very different lives, yet in the span of this brief ride I learned that we have common values and that I admire things about this stranger.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Holi
Color is endlessly fascinating. I took a color theory course a couple of years ago, and am still reading through the suggested reading list.
Much interpretation of color is cultural. White is a color associated with purity in the US, but it is a color of mourning in other parts of the world. There is a wonderful book, Chromophobia, that includes an exploration of color and economic class. The author argues that a lack of color is strongly associated in the US with good taste and wealth.
I love color. It is difficult to pick a favorite because I like almost every color in some context or other.
Visiting India was a joy for me because it is rich in color. It isn't unusual for people there to paint their homes bold, saturated, contrasting colors such as orange and blue. Their clothing tends to be bright as well. Unlike New York, it is very unusual to see someone wear black in India.
This week Indians are celebrating spring with the festival of colors, Holi.
For many years I have enjoyed taking Bollywood dance classes. I have no Indian ancestry but most of the students do. They got together today to celebrate Holi at the South Street Seaport. They wore white clothes and threw brightly colored powder at one another.
We had a long rehearsal today for an upcoming recital and many students still had green, red, purple, and yellow powder on their bodies.
At the end of rehearsal our instructor distributed costumes. Most of the dancers are female, but there are a handful of men. At one point the instructor held three costumes for male dancers in her hand. They were identical except color: yellow, green, and bright pink.
Immediately the men began protesting against the pink costume. They pleaded with the instructor to have the yellow or green costumes.
The large number of women in the room began chanting "pink, pink, pink!" while clapping their hands.
This same group had just celebrated color boldly and felt comfortable walking about with splotches of colored powder on their skin, hair, and clothes. Yet, they had internalized the US correspondence of femininity and color enough to cause a loud commotion when men were offered a pink costume.
Much interpretation of color is cultural. White is a color associated with purity in the US, but it is a color of mourning in other parts of the world. There is a wonderful book, Chromophobia, that includes an exploration of color and economic class. The author argues that a lack of color is strongly associated in the US with good taste and wealth.
I love color. It is difficult to pick a favorite because I like almost every color in some context or other.
Visiting India was a joy for me because it is rich in color. It isn't unusual for people there to paint their homes bold, saturated, contrasting colors such as orange and blue. Their clothing tends to be bright as well. Unlike New York, it is very unusual to see someone wear black in India.
This week Indians are celebrating spring with the festival of colors, Holi.
For many years I have enjoyed taking Bollywood dance classes. I have no Indian ancestry but most of the students do. They got together today to celebrate Holi at the South Street Seaport. They wore white clothes and threw brightly colored powder at one another.
We had a long rehearsal today for an upcoming recital and many students still had green, red, purple, and yellow powder on their bodies.
At the end of rehearsal our instructor distributed costumes. Most of the dancers are female, but there are a handful of men. At one point the instructor held three costumes for male dancers in her hand. They were identical except color: yellow, green, and bright pink.
Immediately the men began protesting against the pink costume. They pleaded with the instructor to have the yellow or green costumes.
The large number of women in the room began chanting "pink, pink, pink!" while clapping their hands.
This same group had just celebrated color boldly and felt comfortable walking about with splotches of colored powder on their skin, hair, and clothes. Yet, they had internalized the US correspondence of femininity and color enough to cause a loud commotion when men were offered a pink costume.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Fair and Faith
Against my better judgement, I attended a Monster.com / New York Times job fair in the Times Square area today. This was my first experience at a job fair. Most likely it will be my last because it appears that these events are used to fill more junior positions than I am seeking.
At least now I know what job fairs are like.
I waited in a line for 2 hours to get in. It was about 30 degrees F outside. Fortunately, about 2/3 of the line was snaking around the inside of the Marriott Marquis.
Several television cameras were there to take footage of the throngs of jobless people. I suppose they wanted to capture a visual to punctuate reporting on the current economic situation. However, it was humiliating to be recorded as one of the pitiful people seeking work in a brutal job market.
The fellow waiting behind me struck up a conversation with a photographer who was there on assignment with the New York Times. They had a long conversation that I couldn't help overhearing. At the close, they asked that I take a photograph of the two of them. The photographer confidently handed to me his massive camera and showed me which button to press.
I have a dear friend who is a professional photographer, and know that her camera is her baby. This equipment often costs more than car and is easily broken. Not only is it expensive, their livelihood is dependent on this machine. As I took the camera from the photographer's outstretched hand I asked him whether he was certain he wanted me to use it. He was.
It is somewhat pathetic, but it made me feel good that this stranger trusted me to use his precious camera. In a situation where I was feeling a profound loss of faith in myself, he had faith in me.
So, today I snapped a photograph of a New York Times photographer and an out-of-work attorney in line at the Monster Job Fair using the photographer's top-of-the-line camera.
At least now I know what job fairs are like.
I waited in a line for 2 hours to get in. It was about 30 degrees F outside. Fortunately, about 2/3 of the line was snaking around the inside of the Marriott Marquis.
Several television cameras were there to take footage of the throngs of jobless people. I suppose they wanted to capture a visual to punctuate reporting on the current economic situation. However, it was humiliating to be recorded as one of the pitiful people seeking work in a brutal job market.
The fellow waiting behind me struck up a conversation with a photographer who was there on assignment with the New York Times. They had a long conversation that I couldn't help overhearing. At the close, they asked that I take a photograph of the two of them. The photographer confidently handed to me his massive camera and showed me which button to press.
I have a dear friend who is a professional photographer, and know that her camera is her baby. This equipment often costs more than car and is easily broken. Not only is it expensive, their livelihood is dependent on this machine. As I took the camera from the photographer's outstretched hand I asked him whether he was certain he wanted me to use it. He was.
It is somewhat pathetic, but it made me feel good that this stranger trusted me to use his precious camera. In a situation where I was feeling a profound loss of faith in myself, he had faith in me.
So, today I snapped a photograph of a New York Times photographer and an out-of-work attorney in line at the Monster Job Fair using the photographer's top-of-the-line camera.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Hello, This is the Universe Calling
This morning I was laid off.
I was called into a meeting in a large conference room with about 15 others, given a folder, and told that my position was eliminated effective today.
When I returned to my desk, I burst into tears and had difficulty talking with coworkers who stopped over to say goodbye. Now that I have cleared out my desk and turned in my badges, I feel an odd sense of calm.
The constant worry about losing my job was oppressive. Now that it has happened, I feel free to forge ahead full time.
I have been looking for work since I was laid off in the summer of 2006. At that time, the company decided to rehire me before I ever officially left the office. Basically, I just moved desks.
It felt icky to work at a place that laid me off and I wanted to move on, but the educational publishing job market was contracting and I find it difficult to look for work while I have a job. I know this is ridiculous but to me it feels wrong to sneak away from work to go on interviews.
I am hopeful that now that I can devote myself to a search full time, I will find something quickly. It is certain that I am motivated. I don't have a severance package, and the maximum gross unemployment for a month in New York won't cover my monthly rent (which is modest by NYC standards).
I was called into a meeting in a large conference room with about 15 others, given a folder, and told that my position was eliminated effective today.
When I returned to my desk, I burst into tears and had difficulty talking with coworkers who stopped over to say goodbye. Now that I have cleared out my desk and turned in my badges, I feel an odd sense of calm.
The constant worry about losing my job was oppressive. Now that it has happened, I feel free to forge ahead full time.
I have been looking for work since I was laid off in the summer of 2006. At that time, the company decided to rehire me before I ever officially left the office. Basically, I just moved desks.
It felt icky to work at a place that laid me off and I wanted to move on, but the educational publishing job market was contracting and I find it difficult to look for work while I have a job. I know this is ridiculous but to me it feels wrong to sneak away from work to go on interviews.
I am hopeful that now that I can devote myself to a search full time, I will find something quickly. It is certain that I am motivated. I don't have a severance package, and the maximum gross unemployment for a month in New York won't cover my monthly rent (which is modest by NYC standards).
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Deeply Cool
Sometimes I wonder how I can intend to do something for so long and not do it. It makes me mad at myself. Other times, I finally do the thing I long intended to do and am glad I waited because I could savor a discovery.
Ever since I heard about the Studio Museum in Harlem about 5 years ago, I intended to go. At the time, I lived in south Park Slope Brooklyn and getting to Harlem was a good 2 hour subway ride. Now that I am Chelsea, I can get to Harlem in about 45 minutes.
There is no question I have missed some good shows, but I am overjoyed to have seen the Barkley L. Hendricks "Birth of the Cool" exhibition. It is a full jewel box of a show.
I regret that I didn't bring my notebook to jot notes on this exhibit. According to information in a wall plaque, Hendricks spent time in Italy studying Italian Renaissance painting and this influenced his realistic portraits. They often have a flat, single color blackground and the subject is positioned close to the viewer against the picture plane. In some instances the background is a gold or silver leaf foil. These portraits often resemble icon paintings.
The color choices are also indicate an Italian Renaissance palette. For example, vermilion red is the solid background color in "JSB III." This particular hue was one of the few red pigments available in the 1400s. It is closer to an orange-red than the color of blood or fire engines. Most contemporary artists no longer use vermilion, instead they opt for cadmium red.
Of course, there are many ways in which his work differs from Renaissance and icon paintings. The scale is much larger than the small wooden panels used 500 years ago. Hendricks often presents his subjects life-sized on canvasses that span 4-6 feet in either direction.
His subjects are depicted in contemporary dress and pose. Many of the men are shown with toothpicks hanging from their mouths. Some are wearing sunglasses, and Hendricks has carefully reproduced reflections of the studio interior in the lenses. In one portrait, there is a much smaller portrait of Hendricks visible in the reflection of the subject's glasses.
The juxtaposition of traditional paint handling with contemporary subjects and gesture is evident in many of his works. In "Misc. Tyrone (Tyrone Smith)" a strong, mustachioed man in denim overalls engages the viewer with an expression that could be taunt or annoyance. He is holding his crotch with one hand and holding a white man-purse under his other arm. I love that this masculine man is presented with elements that are usually associated with women and girls (purses and pink).
I enjoy craquelure or the study of cracks in paintings. It was amusing to see that the hand on the crotch in "Misc. Tyrone (Tyrone Smith)" is emphasized subtly through a bulls-eye shaped crack that radiates from the hand. It is my understanding that these whorl cracks tend to be formed by pokes to the canvass. It is conceivable that someone inadvertently struck the canvass on a box corner in that very spot, but I prefer to imagine a more interesting explanation. Maybe when the painting was first exhibited, some enthusiastic gallery attendee high on boxed wine noticed the gesture and too aggressively pointed it out to other viewers.
I enjoy craquelure or the study of cracks in paintings. It was amusing to see that the hand on the crotch in "Misc. Tyrone (Tyrone Smith)" is emphasized subtly through a bulls-eye shaped crack that radiates from the hand. It is my understanding that these whorl cracks tend to be formed by pokes to the canvass. It is conceivable that someone inadvertently struck the canvass on a box corner in that very spot, but I prefer to imagine a more interesting explanation. Maybe when the painting was first exhibited, some enthusiastic gallery attendee high on boxed wine noticed the gesture and too aggressively pointed it out to other viewers.
Other paintings in the show also included this crotch-grabbing gesture, including the wonderful "Fela: Amen, Amen, Amen, Amen." This golden painting depicts the singer with a burning, crown of thorns heart and halo. Twenty-seven painted high-heeled shoes representing his wives are strewn before this shrine-like piece.
Hendricks has a wonderful sense of humor. In his self portrait "Icon for My Man Superman (Superman never saved any black people -- Bobby Seale)" he places his head and torso in the center of a flat, silver leag background. He wears aviator sunglasses and a blue Superman S-logo T-Shirt. His arms are crossed over his chest. The border features painted red, white, and blue stripes. It was only after examining the picture for sometime that I realized Mr. Hendrick's wasn't wearing pants or underwear.
Another self-portrait depicts Hendricks in white gatsby hat, striped tube socks, and wrist bands and nothing else. The title of the piece is "Brilliantly Endowed."
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