Showing posts with label Central Park. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Central Park. Show all posts

Monday, December 22, 2025

Early Migration

By autumn's end, I already had been in Florida for two weeks.  Florian captured this very meta moment at Wynwood Walls where I take nearly everyone who visits the Folly for the first time.  


The Miami neighborhood offers a case study in gentrification:  where hipsters once bopped, strollers now roam but it still remains Selfie Heaven, even for septuagenarians who should know better!


Photo shoots in Central Park can be just as creative, if less angular. There's a woman under that puddled blue dress.




A traffic light on Park Drive intensified the fall foliage colors.


En route to Little Bear Ridge Road, I passed Yvette Mayorga's "Magic Grasshopper" which celebrated '90s nostalgia in Times Square.  Oh to be in my forties again!

Something about this new tower on the East Side keeps catching my eye.

Larry Bell's "Improvisations in the Park" include "Pacific Red II" (2017).

I was passing through Madison Square on my way to pick up a coffee-table book about Salvatore Ferragamo only available at Rizzoli's.

Here's that skinny new tower again, from a different angle.  

Florida weather began to look pretty tempting on a bitterly cold day at Columbus Circle.

But that's the thing about fall in New York: one day it's freezing, the next day it's not.

I never realized how good the people watching can be in Washington Square Park.  You also can get high just by inhaling.

Thom told me a new walkway opened for pedestrians on the south side of the Edward Koch Bridge.


It offered views of Manhattan and Queens I'd never seen before.


Clouds enveloped the super talls near  Columbus Circle while I biked to the theater district to see Oedipus  the best show I saw this season.  Bye-bye Broadway until next spring. 

Ghosts haunted the entrance to the Belnord on the Upper West Side for Halloween.

Thom and I celebrated our birthdays with a delicious but overpriced meal at Milo's and Hell's Kitchen afterwards.  It finally made me an Alicia Keys fan.



I found myself back in Queens a week later for the Friendsgiving dinner that Thom hosted for our Fire Island Forever crowd after it had been postponed from Columbus Day due to bad weather.  I made pumpkin cheesecake for the first time since 1988.  My kitchen may never recover.


In between my endless blogging about my wonderful two-week trip to Italy just after fall began, I also found time to see several exhibits, including "Ben Shahn, On Nonconformity" at the Jewish Museum which includes small sketch of a McCarthy era monster whose apt pupil has wreaked almost inconceivable havoc on the world order in the 21st century

Portrait of Roy M. Cohn, ca 1954)
. . .  "Downtown/Uptown: New York in the Eighties" at Lévy Gorvy Dayan which proves that the art scene during that decade was almost entirely a boys club

Barbara Kruger (1987)




I also trekked to Soho to catch "Law and Order" at Jeffrey Deitch, a gallery show of works by Sam McKinniss, a Brooklyn-based gay artist who paints from photos.  I get why he chose Jeremy Meeks


. . . but even a very young Marco Rubio seemed a little out of right field.


 On Wooster Street, everything looks artistic.


Would you believe it's a half-century since Patti Smith released the incomparable "Horses?" Franz Gertsch painted these oversize portraits from photos he took when she performed in Cologne four years later.

Patti Smith III 
Patti Smith IV
Manhattan's holiday windows began their temptation early.

Marc Jacobs, Soho

"Naked on my Ozgoad: Fausthaus - Anal Deep Throat"
(Cowardly Lion detail, 2024)


Knowing I wouldn't be around for Christmas as usual, I wanted to make Thanksgiving in North Andover something special for Dagny, Della & Desi.  When Magda and Zoltan were growing up, they loved examining the contents of "my secret drawer" at 47 Pianos, which I filled with things children might find interesting, including some items from my own childhood.  "Why not make it portable for the D-Kids?"  I thought, and introduce them to Andy Warhol by collaging it in reproductions of his art from an old datebook?  Voila!


My strategy worked, thanks to an old case Chris gave me last winter when he began scanning his father's old circus slides.  Della grabbed a tiny microphone; the frozen minute and second hands on my first Seiko wristwatch fascinated Dagny; and Desi ecstatically chased a battery-operated VW Beetle that reminded Magda of Herr Cucaracha even though it only spun doughnuts backwards.  I'm pretty sure the D-Kids will be just as excited by the arrival of "Andy's Secret Case" next year.


T Lo, their grandfather, surprised me with another blast from our past:  the postcards I sent to him and Audrey when I toured Australia.  He and I had recently turned 30.



Although Zoltan, 35, couldn't make Thanksgiving this year, he had been Down Under himself just the month before.   He visited many of the same places I had in a kind of generational chime 40 years later.  Unlike me, however, he actually got to see a koala in the wild.


Before departing North Andover, I took Magda, the D-Girls and Moofy on a hike Tom and I made previously.  Neither Dagny nor Della stopped whining until we reached the frigid shore of Lake Cochichewik for a photo op with the always eager but now semi-blind Moofy.  In dog years, he's even older than I am.


They even ascended to the top of Osgood Hill without complaint.


The leaves may not turn colors in south Florida but you do get about an hour more daylight and sunsets like these.

You'll also find elaborate Christmas displays on South Flagler Drive.  Just don't look too closely at Santa's baseball cap.


There's truly fine dining available, too, at Oceano Kitchen where the shrimp risotto 

. . . was MUCH yummier than the one I ordered in Milan.


That's to say nothing of the Folly's other advantages:  an onsite washer/dryer, a car instead of a bike for doing my grocery shopping and, not least of all, enough space to host guests eager to escape winter's chill in the Palm Beaches, just like the manatees.

 

Sunday, September 21, 2025

Hot Commie Summer

After Zohran Mamdani won the Democratic primary in June, a hedge fund manager forecast a "hot commie summer."  It's about time--as a registered Independent, I can't wait to vote for a guy who belongs to the Democratic Socialists of America!


The level of support for Zohran became usually evident when JoAnne and Mia were visiting from Colorado.  His canvassers approached Mia and I multiple times on upper Broadway before the polls closed and I put her on the subway.  After a couple of days, she had mastered it well enough to be her grandmother's MTA whisperer.

Thankfully, propaganda like this doesn't seem to have gained much traction in spite of attacks by an authoritarian president, a disgraced former governor and a corrupt mayor. But who knows what the future holds? I can't forget the young Andrew Cuomo's dirty tricks when he tried to get his father Mario elected Mayor in 1977 by distributing fliers that declared "Vote for Cuomo not the Homo." 


You know summer has arrived when outdoor dining begins.  A restaurant on Columbus Avenue sported wildfire colors.


JoAnne treated me to a tour of Radio City Music Hall where we escaped the summer heat and met a Rockette.


I also visited another, even older New York City landmark for the first time thanks to Tim. He's embroiled in a battle with the new owners of the Chelsea Hotel to keep his home of nearly three decades.  Art works once bartered for rent still hang in the halls.  BTW, would you believe his mustache measures 13" from tip-to-tip?  Too bad the Coney Island Mustache Contest didn't happen this year.  You know there would have been a blot post . . .


My home has been undergoing some changes, too, although my landlord recently assured me he has no intention to sell. 


After nearly a year, the scaffolding used to resurface the facade of 47 Pianos was removed. The Bangladeshi crew, who weirdly called me "boss," did a terrific, painstaking job!  When I asked one of them if he learned his trade at home, he answered "No.  Everything I learn, I learn in America."


The scaffolding protected my bike from the weather, if not thieves.   The stolen seat and mount cost more than $100 to replace and I'm forced to once again carry it up and down two flights of stairs nearly every day.  My knees are crying, especially coming down.




En route home, we pulled up behind a truck driver crazy about Puerto Rico.


New York's skyline continues to offer endless photo ops, old and new.





The occasionally jokey pleasures of my city walkabouts remain undiminished

"Don't ASK" by Alison Katz
. . . and believe it or not, meatpacking hasn't entirely been replaced by retail on the far west side of downtown Manhattan.


Central Park has experienced some significant upgrades since last summer.  The gorgeous new Gottesman Pool can accommodate a thousand New Yorkers, free of charge.  However, it's only three-feet deep which definitely increases the pee-to-water ratio.


The Conservatory Garden is blooming again after being closed for two years.



The restoration of Gothic Bridge included new seating areas just north of the Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis Reservoir.  It crosses the bridle path where Audrey rode horses back in the day.



Beginning in late August, hundreds of people queued up daily to see Twelfth Night at the Delacorte Theater which had been closed for renovation since 2023.  Recycled wood from water towers was used in the construction.  How cool is that?


Nearly every article about the re-opening mentioned the presence of raccoons either during performance or back stage.  "All right, Mr. DeMille, I'm ready for my close-up."


As I sat on my favorite bench in the Ramble reading, I heard a father describe the scene in front of me to his amazed young son as "Central Park's very own little ecosystem" while warning him not to get too close to the rat.  Does it count as an ecosystem when well-meaning people dump bird seed on the walks?  In any case, I'm not in favor of feeding the animals.




Apparently, I'm not the only art lover in the city--Vermeer, Van Gogh & DaVinci on a single t-shirt!





Woman in a rose hat, New York City (1966)

"Young Man in Reverie" (ca 1876-78)

"A Midsummer Afternoon Dream" by Amy Sherald (2021)

"La Patriarche n°1" by Michel Bassompierre

Unidentified Work by LA2
. . . renewed my appreciation for Beauford Delaney at the Drawing Center

Self Portrait (1964)
. . . and raised an eyebrow about two men that the long-married Jamie Wyeth painted almost obsessively.  Their portraits, mostly from the Seventies,  comprise nearly an entire show at the Schoelkopf Gallery on lower Broadway.

"a.w., Ill at Ease" (2016)
"Hands on Hips, In Fur, Nureyev (Study #25)" (1977)
The Q train took me across the Manhattan Bridge for a well-attended memorial service at the Grecian Shelter in Prospect Park on a drizzly Sunday. 



Victor eulogized his beloved sister Joyce.  She fought 39 months before finally succumbing to glioblastoma, even managing to translate a book during that time.


It reminded me that my own clock is ticking, as did a cake with seven candles (one for each decade) in North Andover.  Apparently, members of the 223 Club didn't get the memo that I stopped celebrating my birthday the year after I became a septuagenerian.


Florian sent me Gustave Caillebotte: Painting Men, a joint publication of the Art Institute of Chicago and the Getty Museum.  It made a tasteful addition to the coffee table at 47 Pianos.


"Soldier" (ca 1881)
Self Portrait (ca 1892)
Meanwhile, he and Arko are prepping for Halloween.