Featured image above is from the Women’s March in New York on Jan 21, 2017. Resistance begins right away, and we have to sustain it until our job is done. The artist’s job, as always, is to show the society to itself.
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This group of 17 photos represents random encounters with people and places along my usual routes. Doing my “artist’s job.”
I was at the checkout desk at Butler Library, Columbia University, waiting for this gentleman to finish so I could make my request and I was struck by his appearance. Well, what’s not shown is his wild white hair and his bushy white mustache, which you will have to imagine. But imagine those aspects of his appearance with these beautiful roomy shiny trousers and you’ll have a complete image of the professor.
Walking through the Whitney Biennial I entered the gallery where the work of an old friend, Carrie Moyer, is being displayed. Large, gorgeous paintings. Full of care and also abandon. These museum ladies found a loveseat directly in front of one. They should be planning some great things for Carrie and her work.
On the S52 Bus
As a commuter, I end up staring at the backs of so many people’s heads that it becomes something to do – an actual activity. Not boring in the least!
Eating on the go at Columbia University
On Fridays I teach a 6-hour video class at Columbia University. I love the class. I’m grateful for the post. And I stayed absolutely fueled for the whole day with a box lunch of a peanut butter & jelly sandwich and a skinny dry capp, which I get at Cafe Joe in the lobby of Dodge Hall, at the School of the Arts. Without my PB&J and cappuccino I think my day would probably go south very quickly. I actually look forward to this every week.
Funny weather we’re having, Staten Island style
I was walking down St. Mark’s Place one day, here in the St. George neighborhood. There was a heavy fog in from the sea. I walked past this one place, below, where it was raining. It was raining on the pavement, on the cars, and on the trees. Not just a drizzle, but rather rain. You can see the wet pavement, right?
When I faced the opposite direction I saw that it wasn’t raining on the rest of the block, as you can see on the picture below: a lot of fog, but the ground remains dry.
In fact, it was only raining in front of that one house. I stood in an interstitial area between where it was raining and where it wasn’t and felt just a few drops blow my way. Thank you, multiverse, for playing this joke on me!
I’m taking a writing class with award-winning novelist Laurie Weeks (Lambda, 2011 for Zipper Mouth) in a loft space in Williamsburg that has inoculated itself from the rabies of gentrification. This is the entrance beyond the outside door.