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Mushroom Lasagna
12/15/2011

The leaves disappear from the trees; The time of the singing of the birds is done; And the sizzling of sauteed mushrooms can be heard across the land. There’s a sadness that comes to me in late autumn, as the days shorten and nature’s color palette moves from brilliant yellow, orange and red into the...

What to Eat on NYC Marathon Day – Tri-color Pasta with Creamy Mushroom Sauce
12/15/2011

Keeping with my recent theme of Autumnal-colored meals, I chose a tricolor pasta to use with this luscious creamy mushroom sauce from one of my fave cookbooks, Regional Italian Cuisine. The dish hails from Tuscany, where more genuine folk would serve the sauce with a mixture of homemade egg and spinach tagliatelle, and call it...

Autumn Red Quinoa Salad with Edamame, Roasted Sweet Potato & Cauliflower
12/15/2011

Here’s a nice healthy lunch for autumnal days. I love the colors – the bright green edamame, the orange sweet potato, red pepper, and yellow cauliflower against the red grain reminds me of an autumn hillside. Packs easily to take to work and keeps for several days in the fridge. Serve it with a dollop...

The Mississippi Personhood Amendment – An Open Letter to Dr Freda Bush
12/15/2011

I try to convince Mississippi's Personhood Amendment physician spokesperson that the birth control pills she now prescribes may no longer be legal if the bill she supports is passed.

Waiting at Death's Door
12/14/2011

Taking photos in public is a tricky matter, particularly in New York City with such an extraordinary number of extraordinary subjects, both human and inanimate. However, many individuals, including photographers, are unclear as to the exact nature of the laws or their rights regarding photography in public. Basically, any person or thing in public view may be photographed and the images published without giving consent, as long as they are for editorial purposes, i.e., they do not appear in an advertisement. There are mitigating circumstances, however, where a person has a reasonable expectation of privacy, such as shooting someone in a bathroom in a home who is visible from a public space.

Recently, while exploring the East Village at night, I came across an intriguing attractive storefront clad in wood. It was the classic, deliberately mysterious front with no windows and nothing to indicate what the place was. On closer examination, there was a small sign and matching nameplate set in the sidewalk that quietly proclaimed "Death & Co."

A lone couple waited outside to get in. I spoke to them - they were from out of the country and were told that they absolutely HAD to visit this place. I learned that it was a cocktail lounge - tres chic, trendy, and hard to get into. They were apparently told that they had to wait. I quickly slipped inside to get a look. It was an extremely striking interior but, ironically, had many free tables. I have no idea if the tables were reserved, however, it seemed reminiscent of the type of establishment that manufactures a sense of exclusivity and desirability by forcing prospective patrons to wait in line. This is a ploy long used by New York City nightclubs - places such as Studio 54 and the Mud Club were notorious for their policies of exclusion. Hordes would wait outside, each person hoping to be a lucky one chosen for admission.

Soon, a young reservationist appeared with a clipboard. I was told that I could not take photos of the exterior. A slight altercation ensued. I informed her that I had a right to do so and that if she liked, we could call the police and review my rights to do so.

She went inside and returned with the owner. He was quite polite and asked the reasons for my photography. I explained this website and gave him a card for New York Daily Photo. He apologized for his reservationist and agreed, of course, that I had the right to photograph a door on the streets of New York City. He gave me his card - a mysterious, understated thing with Death & Co on the face and Frankie Rodriguez with contact information on the reverse. He offered me the opportunity for a photo shoot of the interior at a future time before business hours.

I promised to return. I asked the owner the reason for their notoriety. He answered that their drinks were very exotic, with unusual ingredients researched by the bartenders. Many reviewers online found Death & Co well worth the ordeal to get in. A number of others had similar issues as I did with the reservationist. Hey, but what do you expect Waiting at Death's Door? :)

Note about their name. From their website:
In 1919, the Volstead Act brought a swift end to nightlife and the refined craft of the American bartender was outlawed. It was thought that to drink alcohol was to live a life shadowed by death. It was thought by some that these were death and company.

Related Posts: In a Different Light, The Dark Side, The Core Club

The large, high-profile retailers or chains are much less inclined to risk reputation than a mom-and-pop operation working with a captive audience in a specialty. When a store attains iconic status in New York City, arrogance may often become a component of service. The differences become strictly a case of management style.

If you read reviews of places like Warehouse Wines & Spirits at 735 Broadway, you will find a virtually inexplicably broad spectrum of reviews and customer experience, from one to five stars. Not unusual for a place like this, known for its very competitive pricing, often the lowest in town.
What brought me to Warehouse recently was a very specific mission. A friend was desirous of exploring wine, however, their previous experience with headaches made them apprehensive. The subject of red wine headaches is debated. Many naturally occurring substances have been blamed - sulfites, tannins, histamines, and prostaglandins. Rather than wade through the literature, I decided that finding a wine salesperson with real customer experience regarding wine and headaches would be a simpler, more effective solution.

As I entered Warehouse Wines, I approached and asked the first salesperson visible who might be the resident wine expert. He responded, "that would probably be me." I told him of my mission, asking of his experience, if any, with wine headaches (sometimes referred to as red wine headaches, owing to the feeling that red wine is more problematic than whites). He made immediate suggestions and accompanied us to an area with a number of wine which, from his personal experience, were successful with his customers who previously had wine headaches. Although added sulfites have been implicated by some and dismissed by others, we chose an organic white.

I was impressed by his knowledge and asked about his wine background. He introduced himself as Dennis Johnson and told me that he had worked 22 years as cellarmaster at the Windows of the World restaurant.*

I was elated at my shopping experience at Warehouse Wine with Dennis. It is ironic that in New York City, I have become so inured to the unpredictable nature of customer service that I often feel that great service comes for No Good Reason :)

*Windows on the World was a restaurant on the top floor of the North Tower of the World Trade Center.

Related Posts: Trimmings for Sale, Instincts, We Don't Do Windows, No Students After 1, Pick Two

So, yesterday, I was very pleased to get the following email invitation for The Calling, a theater of fire and song:

You are being called to a relatively secret place for a meeting of believers - a ritual for the arising. Out in gritty Gowanus in Brooklyn is an industrial complex down by the canal where much of the sculpted art you see in swanky galleries actually gets created. It's a vast place, owned by ex-squatters and descended from the renegade forges and welding spaces of the LES of the 90s, and it opens it's doors to Flambeaux Fire, Kai Altair and to you this coming Thursday. You will see it become a WONDERLAND.
A landscape of flames, machines, and beautiful women as spiritual guides, set to the live music of Kai Altair, written & directed by Flambeaux and Kai.

The email invite went on to say:

Flambeaux presents The Calling, a Fire-and-Song Ritual with siren Kai Altair.
A Journey into Seduction, Spirit and Transformation with ritual shows by Lady C, Serafina, Fayzah Fire, Ali Luminescent, Flambeaux, Tribal Bellydance by Angelys and Serena. Featuring the sculpture art of Adrian Landon and Doumbek byt Natalia Perlaza.

What really intrigued me, was the location and venue, The Gowanus Ballroom. Gowanus is a very industrial neighborhood, and it certainly is not the type of place where one would expect to find ballrooms, chandeliers, and formal attire. The invitation also specified Serett Metalworks, so perhaps it would be a ballroom of a different sort. And it was.

The space was difficult to find, as might be expected. There was no ballroom or 55 9th Street. I saw two women on the street and asked if they knew of this place - they did and directed me. The space was down, around, and behind.

I never read the email closely enough or thought about it, so I was surprised to find that the ballroom was actually an industrial space along the Gowanus Canal. I was greeted with an open factory space and an open cauldron of fire burning outdoors beneath a sign for Serett Metalworks. I knew we had arrived at the right place when I found Gowanus Ballroom written on a chalkboard.

Inside was every manner of metalworking machinery along with a variety of metal sculptures, as promised in the email. There was an enormous loft space which afforded viewing from above and a wooden structure reminiscent of the Tower of Toys.

Chris Flambeaux was busy milling about, making preparations for the show he had written. Performers and attendees began to filter in, dominated by the edgy artistic with the requisite piercings, metal, fanciful dress, dreaded hair, and skin art.

The show started in a ritualistic, nearly occult manner, setting the tone for the entire night's performances. Some of the acts I had seen at the QAS. This show, however, had a much more industrial flavor - fork lift trucks were used to deliver acts and even performed on them. One act featured villainous characters aboard a Harley-Davidson motorcycle, driven around the space. See my photo gallery here.

Space being so precious a commodity in New York, this in not the type of event one would expect in the city. For years I had heard of these types of happenings - somewhat impromptu and unadvertised. I was always desirous to be in the loop and attend. There was drama, fire, seductive sirens, metal, and machinery. These guys should open a real ballroom or run a Shop Class :)

Related Post: Not Of Them

A popular cliche amongst photographers is that "it's all about the light." It is overused, but it is quite true. If you are around artists or photographers enough, you may also hear the phrases "magic hour" or "golden hour" - the period before sunrise and after sunset when the light is reddish. This light during autumn can lead to exceptionally beautiful vistas.

Prior to the inception of this website and my photographic interest here, I paid little attention to the properties of ambient light - intensity, color, and changing quality over the time of day or cloud cover.
Many of one's intuitions about photography are wrong. A bright, sunny day is the worst time for shooting, particularly midday. Cloudy days give much better color. And the most coveted times for most landscape photographers is during the magic hour.

Some, like photographer Ken Rockwell, will make claims of a rather extreme nature regarding the magic hour: "Glorious light only happens for 60 seconds or less any particular day, if it happens at all. If it happens at all, it usually happens sometime in a window 15 minutes before or after sunrise or sunset." One must, of course, allow that not every photographer wants this particular golden light for every photo.

Capturing this morning light requires being up at a very early hour, which I typically am. Two mornings ago, I was up before dawn and witnessed the extraordinary light of the magic hour illuminating the vestiges of autumn foliage. Everything was aglow in oranges and pinks, begging for a photo. Today, two hours later in the morning, you can see the dramatic difference (lower photo).
Many New York City residents will never see this phenomenon, particularly in the morning - they are not at the right place at the right time to happen upon a natural setting during the magic hour...

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“In our data,” adds Lisa Berkman, the Harvard epidemiologist who discovered the importance of social networks to heart patients, “friends substitute perfectly well for family.” This finding is important. It may be true that marriage prolongs life. But so, in Berkman’s view, does friendship—and considering how important friendship is to New Yorkers (home of Friends, after all), where so many of us live on our own, this finding is blissfully reassuring. In fact, Berkman has consistently found that living alone poses no health risk, whether she’s looking at 20,000 gas and electricity workers in France or a random sample of almost 7,000 men and women in Alameda, California, so long as her subjects have intimate ties of some kind as well as a variety of weaker ones. Those who are married but don’t have any civic ties or close friends or relatives, for instance, face greater health risks than those who live alone but have lots of friends and regularly volunteer at the local soup kitchen. “Any one connection doesn’t really protect you,” she says. “You need relationships that provide love and intimacy and you need relationships that help you feel like you’re participating in society in some way.”

New York State is tied for the fifth-lowest divorce rate in the nation. New York City’s suicide rate says something even more profound: New York State’s suicide rate is currently the third lowest in the nation.

Many have made the same allegations about the Internet's alienating effects, but this has also been challenged. Some see the Internet as analogous to a large city like New York with positive social impact:

The idea that you’re isolated when you’re online is, to me, just wrong,” says Keith Hampton, a sociologist at the University of Pennsylvania who did an extensive ethnography of “Netville,” a new, 100 percent wired community in suburban Toronto. “It’s an inherently social medium. What starts online moves offline, and what starts offline goes online.” Which explains why the people with whom you e-mail most frequently are your closest friends and romantic partners. “Online and offline life are inherently connected,” he says. “They’re not separate worlds.”

New York, like the Internet, also offers a rich network of acquaintances, or what sociologists like to call “weak ties.” There are sociologists who will argue that weak ties are the bane of modern life. We are drowning in a sea of them, they’ll say—networking with colleagues rather than socializing with friends, corresponding online with lots of people we know only moderately well rather than catching up with our nearest and dearest on the phone.

There is even evidence that weak ties simply make us feel better. According to Loneliness, the advice your mother gives you when you’re depressed—Get out of the damn house, would you?—turns out to be right. For most people, being in the simple presence of a friendly person helps us reregulate our behavior if we’re feeling depressed in our isolation. We are naturally wired not just to connect with them but to imitate them—which might be a good idea, if our impulses at that moment are self-destructive.

Hampton says he views the Internet as the ultimate city, the last stop on the continuum of human connectedness. I’d argue that New York and the Internet are about the same .... what the Internet and New York have in common is that each environment facilitates interaction between individuals like no other, and both would be positively useless—would literally lose their raison d’être—if solitary individuals didn’t furiously interact in each. They show us, in trillions of invisible ways every day, that people are essentially nothing without one another. We may sometimes want to throttle our fellow travelers on the F train. We may on occasion curse our neighbors for playing music so loud it splits the floor. But living cheek-by-jowl is the necessary price we pay for our well-being. And anyway, who wants to ride the subway alone?

Connectedness takes on many forms, both old and new, and in many places, whether online or in New York City. We can no longer make assumptions based strictly on number. One may no longer be the Loneliest Number :)

Photo Note: I happened upon this trumpet player one rainy morning, playing alone in Washington Square Park, shielded from the rain under the arch. See him play in the video above.

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big city. Bright neon lights and bold colors.

So in time, I grew to hate the family of light brown - it symbolized parental authority and all things boring. As if they were not only neutral enough, the color names were invariably prefaced with the very unnecessary "nice." So "recommendations" always took the form of "why don't you get that in a "nice camel" color."

I hated sweaters, too. I felt confined, uncomfortable, and restricted in them, just as I did in my hometown. However, a sweater is a sensible article of clothing and, like the beige family of colors, is another element in the wardrobe of the moderate. So, the sweater became another irritant in my life, something forever being sold to me by family and clothing salesmen. Put all the elements together, and the worst offense imaginable was a family member promoting something like a "nice, camel sweater." You know what not to buy me as a gift.

Recently, while eating dinner with a friend at the Olive Tree Cafe, I spotted a group of women awash in the color of my youth - every variant of beige, tan, cream, light brown, and camel was represented, even in their hair.

My dining companion that night is an NYU student and team member working on this blog. Inexperienced in the ways and means of the city, she respects the wisdom I have gleaned and trusts my insights based on nearly a half century of observation and study of the peoples of New York. So she listened intently as I began to dissect and analyze this group of women for her and explain how it was obvious that these women were clearly from the suburbs.

Not only were they wearing every shade of light brown known to humankind, their entire demeanor cried out-of-towners - they were so gentle and benign-looking, with no edge anywhere to be found. I pointed out how one woman wore her bag slung around her neck while eating - the classic fearful tourist. I explained how one of the key elements in identifying visitors is that everything they wear, from footwear to headwear, is about COMFORT, often at the expense of style. And look - one was even sporting a nice, camel-colored sweater.

Before we left, I wanted to corroborate my theory. In as polite a way as possible, I would tell them that I was a curious New York blogger and ask them where they were from. I would then return to my dining companion with evidence of my superior skills in observation.

They were quite approachable and friendly, as visitors often are. I introduced myself and gave them my card. "Why are you here?" I asked. "To celebrate a birthday," they answered. "Where are you from? "We're native New Yorkers. Upper West Side, Manhattan." I knew it. What gave it away was that Nice Camel Sweater. :)

*Note: To make matters worse, I love blue, however, when I was in high school, jeans were not allowed.

12/14/2011

I've been told that I am a complainer. Convenient, since there is no better place for a complainer than New York City. Here, complaining can be indulged in at any depth or breadth imaginable. One can cut a broad swath or can specialize. For example, a daily commuter traveling on a particularly troubled subway line could confine his or her complaints to just the interminable atrocities committed there on nearly a daily basis.

Today I discovered an interesting blog - I Hate New York City (.com). There, I found 265 comments over 150 pages, spanning the range of love/hate sentiments of New York City. Within those comments, I found the vitriol and outrage which many have over the city. It is a virtual shrine to complaints. The range of topics was well-covered: noise, dirt, rats, smells, trash, rudeness, crowds, costs, concrete, lack of nature, dangers, crime, hot summers, oppressiveness, and pollution.

I might add that even though many of us bemoan the lack of nature, there is still opportunity to complain about plant growth, even when considering plants generally seen as an element of old world charm, such as wisteria and ivy.

In neighborhoods such as Greenwich Village, with a preponderance of row houses, one can find many brownstones with ivy growing up the face or rear of the buildings. Its growth is, however, quite rapid, and for those who dwell in or manage the building, it is more an irritant than a source of charm. Not only do they grow very rapidly, requiring frequent pruning, but these climbers also are destructive to the masonry where they maintain an aggressive foothold.

In one apartment where I lived in the 1970s, my windows would slowly become obscured with ivy growing on the exterior of the building. Periodically, this required hanging out the window on a 4th floor and tearing the offending growth away. The task always felt like an annoyance which was someone else's job, but in New York, to wait for those responsible to tend to a chore is often to wait in perpetuity. I, like many, take things into my own hands. And why not? It just gives me more to complain about - ivy or wisteria creepin' 'round my window is just perfect for when I don't want to leave home but still want to do a little complainin' :)

There is no phone tree, messaging systems, extensions, or phone tag at Schoen. On my first call, I was told I needed to speak to the owner, Marty Silver, who immediately picked up the phone. A proud New Yorker and native Brooklynite, he proceeded to tell me about the company and his recent job with Victoria's Secret, who opted for a local source over China. The order of nearly $100,000 was for over 20,000 pieces and was completed in just a few weeks. I described my own project needs, and he suggested I just drop by. He said that he was open at 7AM, so when was I coming in? Tomorrow morning, I answered.

It was clear from the brief phone conversation that Schoen was a no-nonsense operation run by a man who gets things done. No meetings, no memos, no marketing plans, no grandiose schemes, no Twitter feeds. A rarity these days, and a perpetual frustration for me in business to ferret out these kinds of operations. Schoen services a niche market, and they address the needs of their customers with the essential ingredients: good quality, service, delivery, and pricing. This is why they have been in business for 72 years.

When I arrived, Marty was tied up briefly, working with his accountant. He appeared somewhat irritated that this aspect of his business was taking him away from overseeing his production work and meeting with me. We went over my project quickly, and he said he would get back to me.
I was surprised when, only hours later, he called my office to tell me that he had completed some prototypes for me - when did I want to pick them up and discuss them? Tomorrow morning, I answered. I visited Schoen again, went over my samples, and toured the factory. Marty was quite accommodating regarding my request to take photos. Nothing to hide. I like that. And so it was that in less than 24 hours, Marty Silver did what the factory in Georgia has yet to do in two months.

I have encountered business owners like Marty in the last 37 years. This breed of men and women are the ones that have been the captains of industry and have stewarded our city to become the world leader that it is in so many arenas. Some are left and, here and there, the spirit lives on. New York City is as hard-edged as it comes, and if you are going to survive 72 years in business, you're going to need exceptional tenacity, resourcefulness, drive, and the ability to stay focused on the bottom line.

Schoen typifies the classic old world New York City-style manufacturer or commercial/industrial supplier. They are lean machines, bare bones, and stripped of artifice and excess at every level. The only decorative elements you will find are Trimmings for Sale :)

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Then I finally found exactly the single word I was looking for in an article on David Geffen in a Stanford School of Business newsletter:

David Geffen Says Good Instincts Play Better for Him Than Good Plans

A self-made billionaire, Geffen told Graduate School of Business students that he relies instead on his instincts, his keen eye for talent, honesty, and a knack for surrounding himself with smart people.
"I wish I could give you a better answer. I didn't have a clue about managing business. I never went to business school. I was just bumbling through a lot of my life," said Geffen. "I was like the guy behind the curtain in The Wizard of Oz."

The operative word I was looking for was INSTINCTS. Successful business owners have business instincts - an innate sense of what people want or need and how to address those needs. Of course, as a business grows, many of those key factors in the litany of ingredients of success do come into play, but the best strategy is finding talented individuals and delegating.

In my experience meeting business entrepreneurs, they just seem to be different. You can sense it and see evidence of it even at a very early age. This instinct seems to be the most common thread among success stories. Most of the great successes I have met have little or no business schooling. Many have been high school graduates or college dropouts.

Of course, luck is a factor, but opportunity abounds. The entrepreneur not only recognizes opportunity but also seizes that opportunity and capitalizes on it as well. An estimated 80% of restaurants fail in New York City within five years. If learning the key factors of success was the secret, we would not see such an enormous fatality rate.

Every day in New York City, I see restaurants bulging with customers in lines spilling into the streets. A few doors away, I will often see another neighboring restaurant, even with with identical cuisine, virtually empty. In post game analysis, it is easy to pontificate, analyze, speculate, and theorize as to why some fail and others succeed. Reams have been written. However, reading the Tipping Point or Freakonomics is not going to help the business owner identify the myriad of factors to success and properly deploy and manage them. All of those factors are part of the equation. But to me, the most important is Instincts…

Photo Note: This is the further incarnation of the food cart I wrote about on August 3, 2007. The cart is now the Tribeca Taco Truck. The truck is owned by Percy, but on this occasion, his daughter Alycia (seen in the photo) informed me that he was purchasing a second, larger truck - one will remain stationed at the original location (Broadway between Prince and Spring Streets) while the other roams. Tenacity is also a key ingredient to success, and Percy has stuck with his endeavor for some years. He now has long lunch lines every day. Get there early and tell him I sent you. Percy and crew are wonderful and will treat you like family.

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Perhaps not so sad, since I later learned that playing with mercury is not the most prudent past time. Silver would be a much better candidate for elemental curiosity, and later as a young adult, I became intrigued with silver - here was a precious metal that was affordable and attainable, and although it was not as much fun as mercury, it was at least non-toxic. Unlike gold or platinum, a person of ordinary means could obtain large chunks of it. It is inexpensive enough that it can be used in pure form to fabricate items of jewelry and other commodities.

It has many unique properties and has served as a storehouse of value as currency, dating to 700 BC by the Lydians. Like gold, it has positive connotations, and applying a label of silver to anything, such as the word cream, implies great things. The reflective properties of silver also makes the word synonymous with glitter, glitz, sparkle, shine, and shimmer. So, what better word to use in the name of a skyscraper in New York City?

The day I discovered the buildings in today's photo, they were glimmering in the light of sunset with a look of metallic gleam, like the mercury of my youth and the silver of my adulthood. However, the photo was taken some time ago at quite some distance with no thought of their precise location or future use - until today, when I became enamored of their silvery sheen and wanted to identify them for use.

I often have taken photos of buildings where the subject must be identified at a later time. Fortunately, using online resources - mapping, street views, satellite views, image searches, etc., one can usually positively identify any building in New York City. However, this may require more or less time depending on how distinct its character is, the photo, other nearby structures, and a myriad of other factors.

Today's quest was easy. Here, the first impression that came to mind was silvery towers, and a search for "silver towers" in New York City. It immediately returned images of the buildings in question, conveniently and appropriately named Silver Towers.

I learned that these buildings were in planning for an extraordinarily long time. The property, developed by the appropriately named Larry Silverstein, took 25 years to bring to fruition. You can read more about them here. But what I really wonder about is if Larry ever played with mercury, or was it Only Silver :)

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On December 3, 2008, I wrote Greasy Spoon. However, I did not reveal that the subject of my poor diner experience was the Waverly Restaurant. I avoided mentioning the name of the diner for a number of reasons. One is that I avoid writing stories which essentially serve as negative reviews. There is nothing fundamentally wrong with helping the restaurant patron avoid the poorer dining establishments, but personally, I have decided to leave this type of reporting to the review sites, of which there are many good ones, such as Yelp.com.

The other reason I avoided slamming the Waverly is that I, too, am a sucker for nostalgizing, the very type of person whom I characterized in paragraph one. The Waverly, good or bad, was a Village icon and landmark. To see it was a great comfort, a balm in a city of harsh extremes. To know that the Waverly was open 24 hours likened it to the Chinatown restaurant of Woody Allen - a constant, something steadfast and reliable.

So recently, when I went by the Waverly and saw it boarded up, I was shocked and ALARMED. My first GUT REACTION WAS DISMAY. I bemoaned the loss. Regardless of how good or bad it was, who wants a homogenized New York City, populated only by chain stores? It's places like the Waverly that give New York its unique character.

Then I saw and learned that it was closed for renovation. I was SO RELIEVED. Because, as you can see, I LOVE THAT OLD CRAP, and WHEN IT REOPENS, I'LL BE THE FIRST IN LINE. Really, in all of my writings and diatribes about the old and new, I have been lying to you. Yes, that's correct, and I am willing to put it in writing. I am a LIAR.

Photo Notes: The bottom photo is an artist's rendering of the new Waverly Diner from the architectural firm of Jorge Fontan. The restaurant is being expanded into an adjoining commercial space and is undergoing its first renovation in the 30 years it has been open. The interiors will be fully renovated, keeping the original atmosphere while modernizing and enlarging the space.

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I gave the man a dollar and introduced myself, telling him of my blog. We only had a few seconds. I learned his name, Tommy, that he was from New Jersey, that he was not a drug user, but, like many in his plight, was mentally disabled. He told me that he was schizophrenic and bipolar and that he typically goes on and off medications. He explained that the side effects from his various medications become intolerable, resulting in his discontinuing their use.

Thus, his life becomes a roller coaster. This type of scenario can often be evidenced by the dramatically changing wardrobe and hygiene of many homeless, given that one is privy to seeing them on an ongoing basis. They are in and out of drug rehab or in and out of psychiatric treatment. I have seen the aforementioned Hakan looking extraordinarily nice in a sport jacket, well-groomed and sprightly, yet at other times barely able to function, pushing his belongings in a shopping cart, looking no better than Stephanie or Morgan on a bad day. Or, perhaps, they are all bad days, and the good days are just an illusion to the outsider. I forgot to Ask Tommy...

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Marlborough Gallery is pleased to announce that the monumental sculpture Gran Elefandret, 2008, by renowned artist Miquel Barceló will be on view at the Union Square Triangle beginning September 13, 2011 through the end of May 2012. It is with great pleasure
that the Gallery brings this monumental bronze sculpture to Union Square, a place that epitomizes New York’s unrivaled energy and serves as both a transportation and cultural bridge between uptown and downtown Manhattan. Barcelo’s immense Gran Elefandret, balances upright on its trunk, its four massive legs outspread searching for equilibrium. At twenty-six feet tall the sculpture brilliantly portrays an extraordinary, if not impossible physical and cultural feat; this contemporary monument believably captures with humor, scale and Spanish courage the essence of what a public monument can be today.

To further communicate the gravity-defying feat beyond the surprisingly slim trunk and large body, Barceló imparts the mass and weight of the creature through the downward sag of the heavily wrinkled skin, the off-kilter positioning of the huge legs, and the complete overturning of the floppy ears. The highly textured surface of the elephant recalls the artist’s tactile paintings, in which he creates rich topographic, sculpted surfaces on canvas.

I never had children, but I do love them. Not having them, many things are a novelty to me, like the spongelike absorption often found when children are exposed to new things. One of my most memorable examples of this behavior was subsequent to a class trip made to my business - see Little Burnt Out.

I once made an acquaintance of a very learned and educated couple whose children had a frightening knowledge of things that I, as a child, barely had a cursory knowledge of. I recall going through a book of dinosaurs with one of their children, who was able to identify every one by name. At the time, I had read an article on the three-toed sloth and was fascinated by many of the facts surrounding this remarkable animal, such as its odorless nature and the extraordinary length of time it actually requires to make a journey down a tree, truly befitting its name being used as a metaphor for the slow.

As the child attempted to elaborate on her knowledge of dinosaurs, I endeavored to communicate my newfound enthusiasm for the sloth. She appeared uninterested; I was not making an impression. Or so I thought.

Some weeks later, a friend was on the phone with the mother of the child. At one point, she told me that someone had something to tell me. When I took the phone, the young girl whom I had met was on the other end. I don't recall the conversation exactly, except that she was quite intent on telling me of her new found interest in the Three-Toed Smoth :)

*Miquel Barceló was born in Mallorca in 1957. After studying briefly at the Arts and Crafts School of Palma and the Fine Arts School of Barcelona, he became involved with the conceptualist group Taller Llunátic, which opposed the stagnation of both the socio-political climate of Spain during the late 1970’s and the “official” art scene. Originally focusing on painting, Barceló worked at first in a non- representational style, influenced by Jackson Pollock, Willem de Kooning, and Cy Twombly. As his career progressed, he began to integrate figurative elements in his paintings, and started creating sculptures in both ceramics and bronze. The artist collaborates with the Fundación Vicente Ferrer and the Eyes of the World Foundation and participates in projects for Sahrawi refugee camps. He divides his time between Paris, Mallorca, and Mali.

Related Posts: Kids, Childhood's End, Bronx Zoo

With no prior plan to do so, I suddenly just decided to pull out a camera and video record a leg of my journey with stream of consciousness narration as I drove. See the NYC skyline from the BQE. Cross the Manhattan Bridge with me and then cruise the streets of Lower Manhattan, NoHo and the Village. The footage is raw, jumpy and a little out of focus at times. It's not reality TV - it's the REAL DEAL while on a Wild Ride >>>

Posts referenced in the video: 212 and 2:12, New York Rockies, Sittin' On Top of the World, No Sir, Pull Ahead, Childhood's End, Public Theater, Astor Place Cube

, the Cyclone, the area started to feel much like the frontier with abandoned lots and structures. It was at 21st Street and the Boardwalk that I happened upon a building which became more intriguing the more closely I examined it, thinking that I had made another secret "discovery." Only today did I happen upon the photos I had taken and decided to investigate the structure, and I was soon to learn that 2102 Boardwalk was about as obscure as the Times Square of my youth.

My search at the New York Times website brought up a Christopher Gray article. I knew now that the building was very significant, to be featured for Gray's Streetscapes. I also was comforted that I was in good hands and would get accurate historical information from Gray. The building is described by the Times as "festooned with elaborate, colorful terra cotta nautical motifs, including Neptune rising from the sea draped in seaweed, European ships and intricate crustaceans and other sea creatures." Here are some excerpts from the article:

BUILT in 1924, the Childs Restaurant building at West 21st Street and the Boardwalk was one of the last gasps of elegance for Coney Island...In 1924 Childs, the quick-lunch chain known for its simple meals, built an imposing steel-framed restaurant building. Childs was founded in 1889 on Cortlandt Street in Manhattan by the brothers Samuel and William Childs, who sought to serve the rushing ferry crowds in downtown New York. By the mid-1920's they were grossing $25 million a year from more than 100 branches, half of them in the New York area.

William oversaw the operational end and Samuel handled the real estate side. Presumably it was Samuel who oversaw the restaurant chain's trademark design in the 1910's -- storefront establishments that were white-tiled, efficient and clean, responsive to what The New York Times called the American 'lust for sanitation.'

For their Coney Island building, however, the brothers brought in an elite architectural firm, Ethan Allen Dennison and Fredric C. Hirons, who had both studied at the École des Beaux-Arts in Paris. The architects embraced the Coney Island aesthetic with creative gusto. Against a soft gray stucco field they set a wild profusion of terra cotta ornament in varied colors, with a rooftop pergola apparently meant as a dining area.

The Childs brothers' earlier buildings had been objects of derision by architectural writers, and the sudden burst of ambitious design was unusual. Just after the new Coney Island Childs, the restaurant hired William Van Alen to design an Art Deco jewel-box restaurant, much altered but still recognizable at 604 Fifth Avenue, near 48th Street. It is now a T.G.I. Friday's.

The Childs chain sold the Coney Island branch in 1947, and Enrico Ricci, Robert V. Ricci's father, bought the structure in the 1950's. Since then the Ricci family has oper ated the Tell Chocolate Company from the building. It has kept up the stucco walls, removed graffiti, kept the building watertight and cared for the terra cotta. But with its windows sealed for factory use, the building has a forlorn air. Noticeable chunks of ornament have been removed, but large sections remain.

The building was landmarked in 2003 and has been leased for various uses. From 2008-2010, the space was incarnated as Lola Staar's Dreamland Roller Rink. For an in-depth article regarding this extraordinary structure, see here. In New York City, one can still Go West and find a little Frontier...

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In today's photo, you can see an example of this thinking in an ad by local storage giant Manhattan Mini-Storage. In a crowded marketplace, the company has been successful in creating provocative ads that actually get talked about. Here are some samples:

"Remember, if you leave the city, you'll have to live in America."

"Oh, yeah, you'll fit right in in Connecticut."

"Your closet's so shallow, it makes Paris look deep." [re: Paris Hilton]?"

"In my father's house, there are many rooms." - John 14:2. Clearly, Jesus was not a New Yorker.

And from today's photo: "Nobody becomes famous in Des Moines." Slamming another city will certainly get attention, although the effect is most likely on the other city's residents than on New Yorkers, who already believe that there is no other place worth living in, certainly not Des Moines, Iowa.

I found a response to the ad and comments on a blog called Des Moines is NOT Boring with a story title: Really New York!? As one would expect, the readers of the blog were not pleased with the ad. The writer of the story states, "Apparently, closest [sic] space is at a premium in New York, yet the relation to becoming famous and Des Moines is still pretty unclear." I agree with the writer that the precise thinking behind the statement is somewhat hazy, but I surmise that the implication is that there is plenty of storage space outside New York City, but it would do one no good to live there. Des Moines was a good target since many see the Midwest as a place of pleasant, mild-mannered people but quintessentially BORING.

It is ironic that a blog and name would be predicated on a statement that Des Moines is not boring. Self-proclamations are typically indicative that the opposite is true. People who profess to be easygoing rarely are. And people who have to make preemptive defensive statements usually are what they claim to not be. When is the last time you saw a billboard stating that New York is NOT Boring or that Paris is NOT ugly?

I do respect the quality of life that must exist in small cities. I have often fantasized about moving to a place like Boulder, Colorado, San Francisco, or Portland, Maine. But once you live in New York City, it's hard to scale back. Most of us are here not just for the lure of opportunity but are also trapped by the Sirens of Convenience. It matters not whether anyone becomes famous in New York City or in Des Moines :)

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Recently, I have noticed a number of lamp posts around Astor Place/ Cooper Union bedecked with colorful plastic cable ties. This, like the bed of nails, also challenges my beliefs of what constitutes art, since cable ties are another area of great familiarity to me - we use them regularly in my business.

During my first exposures, it appeared to be whimsical, but after taking a number of photos, it occurred to me that there might be more to it. Sure enough, this is part of an art installation called Flaming Cactus. The Animus Arts Collective utilized 32,000 fluorescent colored wire ties around approximately 15 lamp and sign posts in Cooper Square. The project was done with cooperation from the Department of Transportation. It is permitted to remain in place until June of 2012.

One person commented:

The same art just went up on Spring St and in the Urban Plaza by Trump on Spring. It actually looks very nice in solid colors on the Trump lamp poles.

However, another said:

To me it's cheap looking. It's simplistic and inane, exactly the sum of its parts--zip ties on a light pole. It would look gaudy in a suburban shopping plaza. If bits of brightly colored cheap plastic brightens up your day then more power to you.

Bolts, plastic cable ties, art, or craft - I leave it to the critics...

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And so it is that I can never hate Barnes and Noble. And after all, they are a legacy business, founded in 1873, not an empire built on the latest fashion or frivolous merchandise. It is fashionable to hate Barnes and Noble, which is understandable. I do imagine that they have put many small independent book retailers out of business. However, I am doubtful that destroying small booksellers is corporate policy at Barnes and Noble but rather the unfortunate natural fallout when such a large retailer moves into an area.

But in New York City, as elsewhere, the consumer has become very spoiled. Although many bemoan the fate of the small independent retailer and demonize the retail giants/chains, we all want huge selection, late hours, 7-day operations, low prices, liberal return policies, and a plethora of convenient locations. Who but the giants can offer such a thing? Comedian Todd Barry does material on the ironies of the attitudes of New Yorkers towards the corporate behemoths. You can read it here.

My interest in books went beyond that first tome on calculus. I have always been comforted by books, magazines, and the stores selling them. So when I began discovering Hudson News shops in the airports and bus and train terminals around New York City (and eventually outside the city), I always found their neon signs a welcome beacon to reading materials.

I was shocked and fascinated to learn that Keith Richards of the Rolling Stones, known for a life of excess, was an avid reader. His personal library has been featured in a book of libraries. He once remarked how surprised he was that Americans read so little. He discussed the reality of touring and how much waiting and down time there was between concerts and how he filled much of his time with reading.

There's a lot of waiting and down time in New York. In a city where most travel by public transportation, many fill their travel time with reading. Perhaps if I am lucky, someday I may meet Keith in Barnes and Noble or Hudson News as we fill our time in a World of Waiting.

Related Posts: Who Can Believe It?, We Read at Night, Book Wars, The Strand

very good and there are restaurants that are very expensive. But as diners know, unfortunately, expensive does not always equal good. Restaurants tend to be overpriced in New York City, and plenty of places offer the convenience of eating out only with high prices and just average food.

North Square restaurant is located in the Washington Square Hotel at 103 Waverly Place in the Village. They run a TIGHT ship. Everything is professionally done. And lest we overlook the most important - the food is outstanding. The restaurant, like the hotel, is owned by the Paul family. The kitchen is headed by executive chef Yoel Cruz. You can find the restaurant's website here.

When my family announced that they were coming to New York City for Thanksgiving, I began perusing lists online of restaurants offering holiday specials. I was pleased to find that North Square was among those open and offering a prix fixe dinner. Only steps from my home, why go elsewhere? However, Thanksgiving was only two days away and, as I feared, it was fully booked. I returned on Wednesday in person in the off chance that there was a cancellation. Through some small miracle, a table for 4 was available.

The 3-course Thanksgiving extravaganza was $55 per person, including a choice of appetizer, entrée, dessert, and coffee/tea - not bad in the scheme of things for this city, and a real value for the extraordinary selection of nine appetizers, ten entrées, and eleven desserts. Everything went without a hitch, smooth as silk. Our waiter, Nick, provided sterling service. The dining room was elegant and perfectly lit. We were not rushed at all, as is often the case on holidays in restaurants where patrons are often treated as cattle to be moved.

After our meal, and before returning to Connecticut, my family and I took a quick stroll in Washington Square Park, which is footsteps away from the restaurant. It was a very pleasant afternoon where temperatures had reached 60 degrees. The park was more populated than is typical for a Thanksgiving Day. As you can see from the bottom photo, holidays make no difference for some, where it's Business as Usual...

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Chinatown bus, the cheapest option. A nexus for people who have no other option, no other options at the time, or are between better options.

Today is Thanksgiving, a day to give thanks. And if you are fortunate enough not to have to travel by bus, you have something to be thankful for. Most New Yorkers have, at one time, arrived by bus at Port Authority and know that there are much better places to be welcomed to New York City.

In fact, I rarely put it this bluntly, but Port Authority is depressing as hell and, regardless of renovations, always has been. It is also a magnet for hucksters, hustlers, thieves, and the homeless. There are not too many smiles, and unlike a place such as Grand Central, you are never going to hear people say that they love Port Authority. This is the place that is truly inhospitable. There are no cushions here, nothing to soften against a city that can indeed feel harsh at times. If you want to experience the true grit of New York, head for Port Authority.

I am not sure about many things, but I am sure that I was the only person who traveled to Port Authority last night, solely to carouse, peruse, and look for an angel based on the story a friend told me of an extraordinarily heart warming incident. She was traveling yesterday to New Jersey to see family with her elderly mother.

Upon arrival at the terminal, she was approached by a homeless woman who offered to help. But this was not just a ruse or a quick task for money. This was HELP. She escorted them through the entire process, door to door. Carrying their bags, navigating through the crowds and corridors, purchasing tickets, and seeing them off. My friend was so moved that she told the homeless woman that she was an angel and, in the ensuing rush before boarding the bus, was able to extricate and give her $13 from her bag.

So, last night at 10:15 PM, I went to Port Authority to find that angel. If you are reading these words and look forward to a miraculous outcome, i.e., that I found that angel and spoke to her and photographed her, then read no further. Because I did not find her.

There were lines and crowds, as to be expected. No one was in a good mood. All had only one desire - to leave the terminal and get to their destinations for Thanksgiving. I did find one homeless woman eating in a corner. I told her of my mission and asked if she was perhaps that angel or knew of a homeless woman who might fit the description. She did not. I got the feeling that she thought I was insane. Perhaps she is right. Who travels willingly to Port Authority on the night before Thanksgiving, looking for an angel?

Thanksgiving Posts: Thanksgiving 2009, Thanksgiving 2008, Horn of Plenty, Inflation

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Recently, on the way out of Manhattan via the Brooklyn Bridge on the day of SantaCon (December 10), I found that the streets were teeming with Santas. In the parks, on the sidewalks - everywhere you looked, it seemed there was a group of Santas to be found. I took a number of photos from my car.

Unfortunately, this event does start to feel like the same old thing, and although the event is officially a convention, effectively it does end up becoming a bar crawl for many, which generates late-night drunken revelry on the streets of New York City. The evidence of this is plain to see in neighborhoods like the Village, where inebriated Santas spill out of bars, wander the streets, and indulge in various acts of debauchery.

There is not much new to report in New York City, but I have learned that in San Francisco, where public nudity is legal, there was an effort this year to set the world record for the largest gathering of naked Santas, to be documented by Guinness (see video below). Even Santa is not immune to worrying about being seen as the same ol' same ol'. Whether he indulges in drunken revelry, a little lewdity, or nudity, he knows that you gotta Keep It Fresh :)

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Information for Middletown, New York

Middletown, NY

Homes - Schools - Census Data - Jobs - Maps

Latitude: 41.445754 -- Longitude: -74.422066

Enter our Photo Sweepstakes and Win $200 for your Middletown photos!

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Mushroom Lasagna 12/15/2011

What to Eat on NYC Marathon Day – Tri-color Pasta with Creamy Mushroom Sauce 12/15/2011

Autumn Red Quinoa Salad with Edamame, Roasted Sweet Potato & Cauliflower 12/15/2011

The Mississippi Personhood Amendment – An Open Letter to Dr Freda Bush 12/15/2011

Waiting at Death's Door 12/14/2011

Mushroom Lasagna
12/15/2011

What to Eat on NYC Marathon Day – Tri-color Pasta with Creamy Mushroom Sauce
12/15/2011

Autumn Red Quinoa Salad with Edamame, Roasted Sweet Potato & Cauliflower
12/15/2011

The Mississippi Personhood Amendment – An Open Letter to Dr Freda Bush
12/15/2011

Waiting at Death's Door
12/14/2011