Seals on a rock and a rider with a beautiful Slavic face

Where would New York be without Central Park? I remember a long time ago crashing on a rented bike there and being rushed to Lennox Hospital with bloodied limbs. Pleasant memories. I wasn’t the strolling type then, but I am now and today I must have cut through the park enough times to warrant a frequent-cutter upgrade – perhaps even to gold status.

For others, the Park must be all about serenity and peaceful lakes and benches and jugglers. For me, it has always felt like not quite the real thing (remember that I come from a place that has Lazienki Park; you haven’t lived until you’ve cut through Lazienki in Warsaw). But when in New York, I go to Central Park anyway, because it is so wonderful to get lost in lanes that don’t head in any linear direction, but meander and lead you to exit ten blocks from where you want to be.

Central Park: a Lake Mendota analogue?

I can do this! Sort of. 

Central Park: seals on a rock?  

In the afternoon I stopped by the Frick Museum. Now THAT was a real place of escape for me when I was fewer than half my current years. Back in the early seventies, I’d take a notebook, scoot over to the Frick cloister, sit on a stone bench and write (amidst artwork that I occasionally looked at).

Today I did not write. I’m not even sure I still know how, given my addiction to the keyboard. And I am certain there’s no wireless at the Frick. They don’t even permit flashless photos let alone machines that don’t fit in your pocket.

But I did spend some time in front of a painting that I’d always felt perversely *proud* of: the Polish Rider by Rembrandt. Yes, it pained me when, not too long ago, critics claimed it could not have been done by the great master. But now I hear we’re back on track: that gorgeous Slavic face was almost certainly painted by Rembrandt. And what beyond the face may be attributed to Rembrandt? No one knows for sure. At the Frick, they tell you that the canvas is among the most beloved in the collection, possibly because of the aura of mystery that exists about it. It is a simple painting and it is surrounded by tremendous canvases done by Bellini, El Greco, Renoir, Titian Gainsborough, Degas, Millet, Constable, Vermeer, and more. All good, all wonderful, but none depicting those classic features of a face that belongs to people from my neck of the woods. Brushed onto a canvas by a seventeenth century master. Maybe. Almost for sure.

Rembrandt? the face for sure; probably not the skeletal horse. 

A frog for the mantle

Poland is currently in the midst of its biggest international film festival, celebrating notable achievements in cinematography (read about it in Polish here; I can't help it if the NYT chose to stay away). It may be the most passed-over film festival of all time and yet it is, I think, an intriguing event. It includes workshops and screenings, where directors, cinematographers, actresses and actors view movies together and engage in discussions on film production. Is it geared toward students of film? To an extent. But this weekend you'll also find the likes of Oliver Stone and Charlize Theron in Lodz -- the city hosting the Festival. Unfortunately, Lodz is no Cannes or Venice (perhaps for this reason, Stone had to be coaxed and cajoled into making an appearance). Is this reason enough to avoid broadcasting the awards ceremony where cinematographers receive gold, silver and bronze frogs (yes, frogs -- it works in Polish) for their work? An Oscar from Hollywood, a Frog from Lodz -- it should be every filmmaker's dream. For the record: Ocean applauds the ceremony and offers full support for Polish frogs.