You are currently browsing the monthly archive for April 2012.

On the site of the doomed Teagschwendner, work of some kind begins.

Masking their excitement with blase, the overjoyed populace passes.

And has more than a year not passed since this rainbow presented itself to the city?

 

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It was just a day in 2011, the 34th anniversary of the Summer of Love, and we took to the streets with our wireless tracking devices.

Some of us were skilled enough to handle two at one time.

They helped us cross the street and told us not to worry about looking up or ahead.

Provided instant dog walking tips and shot pure joy into our ears.

We held them to our cheeks and rubbed their shiny surfaces. They made us whole.

We rightfully shunned those without.

We cradled them.

We swayed to their gurglings as they eased our loneliness and kept our thoughts at bay.

They faithfully kept track of where we went and who we talked to and what we were curious about, lest we ever forget.

 

 

Brutalism is a style of architecture. It seems to explain itself well enough in this image made recently of the AT&T switching center on 10th avenue between 53rd and 54th. The sun shone bright did not illuminate. No light enters, and no light leaves. Waves riding another frequency slip in, deposit their messages and exit with others to carry off into the ether.

It is said that on particularly dark nights and lunar eclipses a body can pass through the solid matter walls only to be absorbed by them. If you find it following you, walk slowly until you find help. Never look it in the eye. Image

A suave man catches up on the latest.

I like this one.

Not seated.

Contemplative or sleepy man with bird statue bench. The acorn and bird are not to scale. Do not fret; this was the artist’s intent. The man is not part of the installation.

About to make an important call.

On the important call, sharing the bench with Delilah and Indifference, out of town visitors just taking it all in.

We’re not supposed to make eye contact in New York or relationships.

 

At a subway stop last November… 42nd Street maybe? Part of the backlog.

A woman records the moment.

Later that day, maple leaves float in a fountain in Bryant Park.

Meanwhile far away in another part of town…

 

 

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