NEW YORK RAMBLES (page 45)
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September 2020
A ramble through Bushwick and Morgantown
It is a tale of two cities. Even in so called progressive New York there exists a divide that runs deeper than the one between the haves and have-nots. While those of the >i>white property matters persuasion are engaged in a battle to remove the blight of graffiti from city streets, those willing to accept that not all art comes from high priced auction houses are turning street art into a way of life.
August 2020
A loop between Maspeth and Williamsburg
I suppose a romance has long surrounded all modes of transportation, cars, ships, railroads, but those who find interest in elevated trains seem to be a niche audience. These platforms after all have been the focus of many complaints. Dirty, noisy and pieces now fall from them posing a threat to both life and property. Many have been torn down simply to bring light back to the streets below in hope of revitalizing neighborhoods. I’m fascinated by their structure, though far more focused on aesthetic values than engineering. The qualities that appeal to me are not those that enter the minds of city planners whose vision is restricted by the numbers found on performance and costs sheets. It is strange how we see so differently and yet we both work in terms of abstraction.
August 2020
A loop between Forest Hills and Parkside
Recently, people have been telling me that pretty doesn’t cut it anymore. In a world more interested in mindless entertainment than quiet contemplation IÕm not surprised. But has the desire for beauty really disappeared, can it ever really go away? There is certainly a preponderance of a new type of imagery floating through social media, disseminated in volumes so strong that this current cannot be ignored. It has changed what people want to see and how they see it. Bad news for those who deal in subtleties but what can be done when the rip current pulls you away from what you love. Sometimes success has to be forfeited to keep traditions alive; a concept that is becoming more foreign with each passing day.
August 2020
A Midtown ramble
When I first tried to get away from shooting common street scenes, I had to ferret out abstract elements over typical representational content that I was so used to seeing. While such images have since become a larger part of my portfolio, I wonder if this was really due to a change in vision or circumstance. When I walk down city streets today, so much is broken or under construction or just generally in a state of disarray that abstract elements of form and color practically assault me.
August 2020
A walk from Sunnyside to Greenpoint
More and more, I find myself stepping back a few paces to take a shot of something just passed by. Am I letting my mind wander more than my feet? I hope it’s a newfound bravery, one that is allowing me to shoot things I would not normally consider. Yes, I’m itching for something new.
August 2020
A ramble through Flushing
I have to consider myself lucky having lost electric for only twenty-four hours. It is almost two weeks now since the hurricane hit and some intersections are still blocked with downed trees and wires. The problem lies in the very structure of the City, it is not designed to work, only promote the narrowly defined interests of particular agencies and departments. There is no cooperation, no bigger picture to consider. IÕm surprised when anything works these days.
August 2020
A Midtown ramble
I have not gotten used to all the new bicycle lanes and bike racks that have reconfigured the City’s streets. These changes grate on my aesthetic sensibilities. Curbside dining has now joined the chaos. While I have never been a fan of dirt from the street blowing onto my food, I find sitting adjacent to a busy traffic lane even less appealing. My camera however does not seem to object. It finds these outdoor diners much more interesting than parked cars.
August 2020
A ramble in Flushing
Although the hurricane brought down many trees, I was immediately taken by the number small branches that were strewn everywhere. A mad pruner’s work. Yet amid this chaos there are butterflies that came out with the sun. They do not know the meaning of trauma. For them, every day is born anew.
July 2020
A walk between my studio and my backyard
The anticipated storm brought high winds but no rain. The thistles I let loose in my garden, the one’s that were nearly as tall as me, snapped. I tried to put the cuttings into some sort of careful arrangement but they were hostile to my intentions. Ouch! Bloody fingertips. I took a shot of them resting against my window, in no particular order just as the last light was withdrawing from the day. Way too blue. Sometimes I want to withdraw from photo editing, from composing, and let the shot be whatever it is. Sometimes, just sometimes, this alone carries the moment, perfectly reflecting my mood.
July 2020
A walk from Midtown to the Village
I’ve been wearing my face mask diligently whenever outdoors even though I hate it. For some reason covering my mouth and nose seems to interfere with my hearing and vision. I feel cut off from the world in ways I never did while wearing a scarf on a cold winter day. There would be no beauty in my days if I didnÕ’t keep my eyes wide open.
July 2020
A walk in Kissena Hollow
Not all is doom and gloom.
July 2020
A walk from Union Square to Hudson Yards
Those green temporary construction walls that are all over the city have long served as the canvas for ads, tags and street art. This summer they have become the resting place of politically themed street murals. What I don’t understand is why there are not more of them? Why are they so constrained? Where is New York’s passion?
July 2020
A walk across Flushing
Many hide out in residential neighborhoods after escaping imprisonment in concrete inner cities. Perhaps what those people really need most is to escape from themselves? Some drag their bad habits with them wherever they go.
July 2020
A walk across Flushing
What is summer? Barbecues and trips to the beach that have become so synonymous with the season that they even fill the minds of those who can only partake in dream. Then there are smaller dreams of little things like the stray day lilies that seeming pop up out of forgotten gardens just to burn bright. Yes, there are many small things.
June 2020
A walk from the Village to Chelsea
With all the talk over the closure of galleries and museums, the cancelation of art fairs and problems with online sales, there is a noticeable failure to mention that there is more than one art world. While I too am suffering from cancelled exhibitions, most of what is happening is not a serious blow to art, only to commerce. If every auction house should fail, if every art fair disappears, most artists would hardly take notice. I know they are as irrelevant to my work as I am to them. Art will never disappear from New York as long as artists manage to survive.
June 2020
A walk in the Village
I hear that people are becoming afraid to live in the densely populated neighborhoods and are escaping cities to take up residence in the nether regions. It seems that not to long ago I was hearing that the suburbs were being abandoned in favor of city living because the rising price of gas was going to make it impossible to commute. This is why I refuse to be trendy.
June 2020
A Midtown ramble
The combination of a health crisis with civil unrest has created a strange mood on the streets. While there seems a great desire to pretend the pandemic will be over soon so we can all return to normal, there is also great determination not go back to the way things were. I am worried that there is so much to fix that it is not possible for everything to be fixed, and it is a rather all or nothing deal. Where does that leave us? If things seem calmer, is it only because I am standing in the eye of the storm? A cauldron is being stirred.
June 2020
A walk from Union Square to Hudson Yards
With little air and car traffic pulsating through the city, the streets seem exceptionally quiet. It is not just the absence of a particular vehicle passing me by, the normally persistent low key drone of a million vehicles moving at once is missing. There is however buzzing in the air as storekeepers board up their windows fearing more nights of unrest. There are always criminals who will take advantage of any opportunity they are given, but we should not conflate looting with protest, not even angry protest. We live in a dystopia where a great effort has been put into creating systems that deny people a voice in their destiny while ignoring their problems. When representational democracy proves to be a joke, no one should be surprised that violence blooms.
June 2020
A walk in Chelsea
Even though I dislike much of the development sprouting throughout the city like weeds, I have to admit construction work has added a dynamic quality to the streets. With most construction now on hold, unfinished work tells a vey different story. It does not make me feel as if we are on pause, it makes the city look like it is on the verge of being abandoned. I know this is far from true, but as I stare through unguarded fences and into open pits I don’t believe anything will be the same again.
June 2020
A walk from Union Square to Hudson Yards
Open for takeout only is the slogan for the day. Is this how we are going to survive going forward? Eateries are anxious for any business they can get but I don’t understand how so many who were operating on bare margins can afford the loss of any customers. This is true for all the places we once gathered in number. We are in for hard times.
May 2020
A Midtown walk
While there is plenty of measurable facts to be gloomy about, it is the less defined that has unsettled me, that which has tempered my mood, It drifts in over the distant horizon like the first dark clouds of a coming tempest. I fear the worst of this pandemic is yet to arrive. Perhaps if I had seen any real ability to adequately address the problem at hand I would be less concerned. For all practical purposes our nation has shown itself to be leaderless just when we need competence the most. The Buddhist refrain that the world is an merely an illusion has never been so apt. Nothing around me has been working for some time; all is pretense and spin. We have been sitting on the edge of illusion, preferring it to the reality in front of our face, and now we are tipping over in mass. No, we haven’t seen anything yet. Still, I won’t let the day pass me by. Pandemic or not, the essentials remain, waiting to be found.
May 2020
A walk from Union Square to Hudson Yards
Some large wall murals have already gone up, but mostly there are small spontaneous displays thanking all of those serving on the frontline of this pandemic. They deserve the praise. They deserve a lot more than they are getting. It is easier to bandy works about than provide necessary supplies. We have been dropping the term hero as if it were nothing more than pennies falling from our pocket. I find it ironic that as an artist my concerns are at the bottom of the heap, yet as a paper pusher I’m considered essential enough to be allowed to come into the city. Are we not all regardless of official designation laid out on the sacrificial stone awaiting our turn?
May 2020
A Midtown walk
While my eye is still primarily concerned with balance and composition, everything seems to be colored through a Covid-19 filter. Every half finished construction job has become more than corralled backhoes sitting quiet amidst day-glow barriers; it feels as if something has been taken in the night. There is still too many people and too much traffic for the city to look abandoned but sometimes it still feels as if all is closed.
May 2020
A walk from Union Square to Hudson Yards
I find that a number of photographers are now shooting city streets emptied out by the virus. Capturing the times I guess? While I am also inclined to do the same, it seems that many of my shots have always captured the emptier side of this place. Loneliness has never been a stranger to New York.
May 2020
A Midtown walk
Subway ridership is down more than ninety percent and yet people can’t help but be too close for proper social distancing. I forgo my usual transfer and get off as soon as I can. It is good to walk again; the air has never been so clear. In fact, everything around me seems electric. I’m on fire as I take shot after shot. Is the day really this exceptionable or is it just the chance to be shooting on the streets again? This however is no carefree ramble, it is a precise walk of necessity from point A to point B. I’m trying to be responsible.
May 2020
A walk in Flushing
There have been times when only I have experienced the marvelous things unfolding before me, so many times that I know there are many more things that pass in this world unseen. This is a reality that I’ve reluctantly come to accept. My heart however does not appreciate the logic. It pines for every opportunity lost. A common phrase these days is life has been put on hold, but time stands still for no one. It is difficult to complain when others are going hungry and the death toll from the virus mounts, but the heart still wants the romance found in the walk.
April 2020
Another ramble in Kissena Hollow
An overcast sky is far more tedious when experienced indoors. A string of rainy days has left me unable to do anything inside without turning lights on. I feel like I’m hunkered down in the dead of winter while the landscape around me blooms. A walk outside lifts my mood. Out here the grayness softens all until each swirl of a branch, each new blossom is united into a giant mosaic.
April 2020
A ramble in Kissena Hollow
Distance is a relative term. If no longer allowed to travel as far afield as my heart would like to take me, I can always delve deeper into smaller worlds. The magnolias, undisturbed by frost this spring are an example of this timeless beauty. Each petal is a wind driven sail on a voyage without bounds.
April 2020
A ramble in Kissena Hollow
Sometimes a spring day is filled with so many red flowerettes that it can be mistaken for the end of fall. This process requires some suspension of reality but if adept, brief moments can be sustained. There is always the danger that illusion will be shattered by careful observation, but it can also simply be broken by the lack of necessity to maintain it. On their best days, the fancy lacework of autumn and spring are evenly matched.
April 2020
A ramble in Kissena Hollow
Lockdown is not a word any walker ever wants to hear. It is particularly heinous when the trees outside my window begin to bud and flower after a long winter’s sleep. Log cabin fever may not be a disorder confined to artists but we suffer pain alongside out yearnings. What if officials knew my brief sojourns to the park were for photography rather than exercise? I don’t know if it matters; I’m still not getting enough of either.
Copyright 2020 Alan Petrulis All Rights Reserved