Wednesday, November 24, 2004

After the high-brow comes the low-brow

In the late misty (try rainy) evening, I went with a two enthusiasts to watch Macy’s prepare the giant balloons for tomorrow’s parade. Forget mustering up excitement for the march down Central Park West on Thanksgiving Day – it’s all in the process of getting the show up and running.

Start with good instructions. And then, turn on the hot air. These may be the only characters in the world who are adored for the blast of air that makes them rise to the top of the world. Or at least to the top of CPW, and eventually Broadway.



You don't know how to blow up Ronald? You start with the head... Posted by Hello

Are we talking about balloons or politics? This guy got in front of my camera and ruined the balloon photo. Can I sue? I don't know, he's the mayor of NY, he may have connections... Posted by Hello

Kermit, still groggy after a year in seclusion Posted by Hello

The foot, the worker trying to make it even bigger, and the sponsor Posted by Hello

A fifty-third street rhapsody, part 2

Too much! It is, indeed, too much!

The new MoMA is overwhelming! It is a combination of Getty and d’Orsay and who knows what else. Matisse, Miro, Magritte, Hopper, Dali, Klee, Pollock, O’Keefe, Monet, Warhol, Gaugin, Van Gogh, Rodin, Picasso – stop! Stop already! This concentration of magnificent art, all under one roof, just cannot be.

My immediate reaction? I think there are more Picasso paintings here than the man could ever have possibly painted.

I bought tickets for MoMA ahead of time. The Museum just reopened this week after years of renovation. I was sure there would be crowds. There were. They stood in line, I did not.

The space, take a look at the space: from how many angles can you catch the Waterlillies?

Alright, no more words, let me run through my photos – be prepared! I can’t cut out too many, it was a fantastic visit!


On the very top floor you can check out special exhibits, such as this one... Posted by Hello

But there are many levels. And they intersect in wondrous ways. Posted by Hello

The crowds naturally congregate around the Starry Night Posted by Hello

Maybe if one looks at Matisse from this angle... Posted by Hello

And what do you make of the Demoiselles d'Avignon? Hey dude... I've no idea... Posted by Hello

A professorial type will always read the notes and then stare endlessly at the painting... Posted by Hello

The Broken Obelisk and the perfect Waterlillies Posted by Hello

Dear little one, we're in a museum... see the color red? It's a painting... Posted by Hello

Over the river…

Holiday food shopping at Grace’s (of Balducci fame): $2.59 for a small bunch of parsley? – I say under my breath. What? – asks a curious rich thing next to me. Oh, nothing, I’m just remarking at the cost of parsley. It’s only $2.59 today, she responds reassuringly.

tight aisles, stuffed shelves, pushy shoppers, great food Posted by Hello
Why not go to the flagship Whole Foods on Columbus Circle? As of Sunday, the wait in line was estimated at an hour minimum.

On the way home, carrying the loaded bags of food for the next days, I am persuaded by two shopping companions to buy another holiday item: a small tree for the NY apartment. Which one? The cheapest, a real loser. The sales guy smiles and tells me : “Charlie Brown ain’t got nothin’ on this one!”

New York: a fifty-third street rhapsody, part 1

Destination for today: west 53rd street. I have such fond memories of west 53rd street. Between the ages of 10 and 13 it was probably the most frequented by me block in the entire city (apart from my home on east 46th and my school on east 70th). When I was not acting cool and walking with my transistor radio through Central Park, I was on west 53rd, spending hours there, mesmerized by the offerings.

A reader, thinking her(him)self to be a savvy New Yroker, is likely to be nodding in agreement (and at my precocity). Yeah -- that Museum of Modern Art is fantastic, isn't it?

In truth, I hardly ever went to MoMA. My place of worship and wonder was the building across the street: a branch of the NY Public Library.

I read every teen voulme on the shelves. It got to the point that the librarian would see me coming and look the other way, knowing that I would be disappointed to find nothing that I hadn't already digested, many times over. Precocious indeed -- in reading teen trash.

Once a Clark Kent, always a Clark Kent

The plane lands, I make my way to the phone booth for the great transformation. Goodbye sweet demeanor, hello metal-twisting, people-punching ms. fast-mouth, pushing her way to the front of the line.

Well, not exactly. First, what's this about a "sweet demeanor?" Not too long ago I was at a restaurant in Madison where my eating companion and I engaged in a joke before a poor, gullible waitress (I didn't start it, I swear!). When she found out that it was a tease, she displayed such hurt and bewilderment that we left with tails between legs, each blaming the other for being the meaner of the two. My only regret? That we didn't fully pull it off. Not too sweet, is it?

As for the metal-twisting, people punching bit-- not true either. When I land at La Guardia I am flooded with such effervescence that the immediate recipients of this ebullience, the cabbies, wish I would just shut up and stare at the decay around me. There's nothing worse than a chippper passenger straight off a flight from the Midwest to make 'em want to slam that little Plexiglas window between the front and the back-seat rider. With a bang.

What I like about being in New York though is this: no one stands out. Everyone is as weird as the next. If I limped along with a reptile wrapped around my neck no one would even notice. Complete anonymity in small doses is a good thing.