A hundred eyes look upon us but cannot see us

b&w photo of a building facade with many windowsA hundred eyes look upon us but they cannot see us

b&w photo pf brookly nbridge, manhattan bridge in distanceTwo bridges in fog and no one to cross them

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Views on the city with shifts in angles and in scale

drawing of buildings from aerial viewdrawing of buildings from aerial viewNYC roads and parks (drawing)

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A doubtful guest arrived just before those invited

Saturday evening, perhaps twenty minutes before the arrival of some friends, as I sat on the Queen Anne, a shadow shape limped into my peripheral. I said Mouse! And then my tone changed immediately as I saw him slump to a stop on the floor just a few feet from me, and close his eyes. …Mouse?

I thought he may have perished before me in that instant, as he did not move when I interrogated him, nor when I stood up.

My mind searched for what I might do about his limp body. I fetched a wooden drawer that I’d just come across the day before, folded a paper towel in, and used a second to pick the poor thing up. He did not so much as blink when I approached, so I knew he must be feeling very poorly, but he was not yet dead..

I set the box on the kitchen table, and put a tiny butter-pat dish of water and some few pieces of granola in, and left him. He moved around a few times, perhaps trying to get comfortable. I’d warned my guests of his presence, and we left him in there while we gathered in the living room.

Hours later after they’d gone, I went in to check on my new charge, and found the box empty, without so much as a thank you. He clearly had recovered, with speed. Lord knows where he is now, but the insolence! Such rudeness!

Next morning after relaying this new to one of my visitors, I could only joke on the disappearance, “Just like a man!”  And then there’s me— always taking in broken things.

Some tall ones in the ‘Hatters

That’s what some few of we Brooklynites call Manhattan— the ‘Hatters*. Also,  Work Island, The Big Town. Often accompanied by a groan (implying the MTA, etc)

I’ve been spending a fair amount of time there the past few weeks, and it’s been brilliant. I’ve had to re-calibrate my perspective; always a healthy pursuit. Seeing my town with fresh eyes. Remembering why I’m here.

I missed my accustomed, promised Thursday post yesterday, but I was okay with it, fine with it, as I’ve been posting nearly every day for a month. Hope you feel soft towards my remiss as well.

For now, enjoy this dynamic of skyscrapers and rhythmic windows in the perceived (and sometimes actual) heart of NYC on a fine sunny day. Looka’ that crane, building more UP!

If you’ve never done, check out This is New York, by Miroslav Sasek. It is timeless New York.

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*This is a Tara Lynne-ism.

The swishing of cars and in the distance, church bells

pedestrian bridge in Windsor TerraceAnd then there are parts of town that don’t quite feel like New York at all.

I’m always looking for what elements are the disparate ones; what are the real culprits that make it feel different. Sometimes it’s scale; of buildings, of the street or space around the buildings. But sometimes it’s something more invisible. A certain type of window or siding. The way the garden is planted and decorated. 
highway overpass
Every now and then you come upon a whole city block, and the little shops along its length sport cloth awnings all identical, and you have to look around to assure yourself you’re still in Brooklyn. 

The church bells are all pre recorded these days. From far away they sound real enough, but sometimes the volume is up too loud, and if you’re nearby you can hear the distortion.

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Seeing things in similar ways, in black and white

photographs by Elizabeth Daggar
Cathedrals without ceilings
photographs by Elizabeth Daggar
Ornamental
photographs by Elizabeth Daggar
As above, so below
photographs by Elizabeth Daggar
Words on architecture

From the Whitney to Coney: art

Chroma cubes at the Whitney
The palest cubes in a scale of chromatic/tonal shifts. I love how these flatten into a painting, viewed from above with the shadows cast.

My brother and I, expecting rain Friday, planned a trip to the Whitney followed by a wander up the High Line. Naturally once we got to the city, the weather had become hot and sunny. It was a good plan anyway, as neither of us had been to the new Whitney, and we saw the Calder exhibit (two of his floor-sitting mobiles pictured below), some of the permanent collection, and selections from the Biennial. Some stunning views from the High Line followed.

More High Line and Coney Art Walls after the jump.
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