The third destination of our Met Museum art extravaganza was Beyond the Light – Identity and Place in Nineteenth-Century Danish art. Plenty of light and lots of water. Plus wonderful drawings and paintings of Denmark, ancient ruins, lonely figures on beaches, ships, harbors, woodlands, portraits, and empty rooms. The exhibit overview includes the following background information: Denmark in the nineteenth…
A wander crosstown to the Met with a destination. Or rather three. The first – Water Memories – explores water’s significance to Indigenous peoples and Nations in the United States through historical, modern, and contemporary artworks. The second – right next door – Art of Native America: The Charles and Valerie Diker Collection rotation honors the diversity of Native life with…
I’ve been thinking about how we need to stop using the word “gender” to refer to people and why we should not use it for anything other than linguistics. Meanwhile, as I contemplate world improvement, Scotland has just passed an ill-conceived law that will have the effect of tossing women and children under the bus. All this in order to…
Raw, cold, and damp but it’s still good to get out. Thanks to the ongoing lurgy there are no social gatherings, visits, or events to distract us from what is on the doorstep. Like stickybeaking tourists clogging up the sidewalks of a foreign city, we’ve been out and about spotting the everyday marvels and quotidian wonders of the neighborhood. Here’s…
The sun shining … just there in the sky like a force-ripe orange That striking image is from Samuel Selvon’s novel The Lonely Londoners. Henry Oliver, who earns the nickname Sir Galahad for his bravado, has just arrived from Trinidad. Here he is on that first morning in the big city – in Westbourne Grove – suddenly realizing he is…
I am always a bit astonished when I see tRump signs at people’s houses. And I ask myself: “Who are these people? What on earth can they be thinking?” There’s three on our route to our usual walk – not just signs of course, but mega flags trumpeting the household fascist tendencies, racism, and misogyny to the world. And looks…
Eighty years ago today – on January 26th, 1939 – the poet W.H.Auden – accompanied by his friend and sometime lover Christopher Isherwood – stepped off the boat and arrived in New York City. It wasn’t their first visit. They had spent two happy weeks in the city in 1938, arriving by train from Vancouver on their way back from…
A few November snowflakes and the hits on my all-time most-read post start climbing the “Most Read This Week” list. Chance of Snow is from 2011. You think it would have melted entirely from view by now. But no – 12 hits in the last two hours for a grand total of 12,052 to date. Must be those wishful thinking,…
The temperature’s rising. Time to think about eating outside and settling in at a sidewalk cafe to watch the world go by. But beware! Dangers lurk everywhere and we need new punctuation to express our outraged reaction to a whole range of disasters. I love Paul Violi’s list in this poem. And – when you do venture out, sit down…
Subway Rush Hour by Langston Hughes Mingled breath and smell so close mingled black and white so near no room for fear. Hughes published Subway Rush Hour in 1951 part of “Montage of a Dream Deferred”. In “My Early Days in Harlem” 1963 he wrote of his arrival Harlem as a young man from the mid-West. On a bright September…
Imagine being so consumed with racial hatred that you travel all the way from Maryland specifically on a mission to kill black people. This is what seems to have happened last Monday night when Timothy Caughman suffered a brutal sword attack from a complete stranger apparently intent on targeting black men in New York City. Caughman, who was 66 and lived…
There’s a great exhibit on at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in NYC: Max Beckmann in New York It highlights Max Beckmann (1884–1950) connections with New York City and includes works from his time living in New York as well as works from 1920-1948 that are in New York collections. One of the first works in the exhibit is a self-portrait…
First the music and the record stores closed. And then the books – Posman’s on Broadway, Ivy’s and too many others across Manhattan. And then it was the international news and magazine shop – Global Ink – on the corner of 112th street where it was possible to browse obscure journals, pick up yesterday’s Guardian and newspaper from all over…