Sunday, September 17, 2006
When I went to the Cloisters last year with A. and other's she told me what these were used for, but I honestly can't remember. They have hatches in their heads that you can put things in (maybe ashes?)... it's pretty amazing and creepy.
Cloisters Garden
In the garden there is a section of poisonous plants with a sign that says "do not touch." Of course, a child ran up and started pulling at the deadly nightshade. The hazzards of having era-specific gardens I guess. But the gardens were amazing and it wasn't even that crowded (and since the Cloisters is part of the Met it's suggested donation, so if you go, forget about that $20 suggested admission, give them a dollar and hang out for the afternoon).
Pillar and Garden
Fooled you! It's not more photos from France, but from the Cloisters, in upper Manhattan. To get there you take the A train and then walk through an amazing park, to stroll through a sort-of-reproduction ancient church to see a mish-mash of mideval, religious art, including some amazing tapestries of unicorns. It was the perfect Sunday vacation close to home, as I arrived back in Sunset Park tired and satisfied and relaxed, as if I'd been out of town for longer.
The Gossip Irving Plaza
I have never seen a bad Gossip show and I've been seeing them since their first tour with Sleater-Kinney in 1999 (my office mate LM and I just realized we were both at that show in Boston, which made us laugh). Though I felt their show at the Knitting Factory this spring where everyone was packed in and dancing so hard the floor shook captured a little more of this band's spirit, they sounded great and looked great. The best part of the show for me was the girls in front of me, pressed against the stage. They were probably about 20 years old, all young women of color, screaming their lungs out for Beth and jumping up and down the entire show. As jaded as I might be, this, for me, is what makes going to shows like this worth it. To know other young ladies can feel inspired, alive, excited by this music. It certainly did that for me. It's funny to think that the kids in the Gossip are my age and I know they might have made the conscious choice to be rockers and it makes me think about how once I might have wanted to be a "rock star", but when I think about the late nights and hauling heavy shit around, I feel happy about the choices I've made.
Erase Errata Irving Plaza
This photo of Ellie is about the only decent shot I got of Erase Errata, but I was admired her knitted bass strap cover. Erase Errata sounded good, but again, it was strange to see them in such a large venue. This was the first time I'd seen them in a few years and the first time without Sara Jaffe on guitar. Without the fourth person some of their crazy, frenetic energy seemed to be lost. They're less rough around the edges, no trumpet, no weird hair or crazy outfits. They're more than just a rock band, for sure, one of the best rock bands out there right now I would venture to say, but maybe... maybe we're all just getting a little older (or I know I am and that crazy punk energy is really hard to sustain). I find their new album infinetly more listenable than the others, but live the songs didn't seem to pack as much of a punch as the older songs.
Mika Miko Irving Plaza
I saw Mika Miko play with The Gossip and Erase Errata. I had seen them last summer while W. and A. were visiting from Belgium in the Good Good's loft and they stood out among the mush of punk/ post-punk bands that played that night. It was strange to see them in such a huge venue, as they seem suited for basements, lofts and holes in the wall, but they sounded great and I later compared them to sounding like the Frumpies, if the Frumpies had had better songs and actually practiced... but same kind of sound and energy and one of the singers (maybe her name is Jenna, pictured here) sang into a distored red telephone. Theirs is the first CD I've bought in a long time and I am really pleased with it, it sounds like the music that made me love indie and punk music in the first place.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Lower Manhattan from Sunset Park
Today was an achingly beautiful September day, the kind of weather where you know it is fall. It was not unlike this day 5 years ago that was being commemorated so much... Sunset Park offers a straing view into Lower Manhattan. I hadn't even heard of this place when the skyline was changed, having just moved to New York two weeks previous. Today makes me feel like I "should" reflect on what's changed, but the fact is is that it has infused my daily life so much now that reflection catches me at odd moments, emotion and shortness of breaths, flickers of memory coming when I least expect it. There's nothing too different I have to say on the actual "day of" that I haven't been saying "since"... racial profiling, torture, deportation, war, curtailment of civil liberties, all this continues on a day-to-day basis, so I don't feel like I need to commemorate this day particularly (I understand the need if a loved one was lost, for sure...), but I do want to say that we can use it as a place where we can keep struggling, working, hoping for truth, peace and justice. Is another world still possible? Most days I am not sure, but we have to keep believing so.
Hell Kitten
I realize I am reaching into the stereotypical dregs of personal blogging by writing about my cat and what I ate for breakfast (toast and orange juice). L. and I have been catting sitting L's brother's kitten Max, aka "hell kitten." Be not fooled by his peaceful sniffing of my flowers , moments afterward he grabbed my leg with his claws and sank his teeth into my ankle.
Brooklyn Bridge in the rain
Reading excerpts from Susan Sontag's diaries in the New York Times magazine today I came accross an entry she wrote when she returned to New York from Paris in 1959 that seemed to mirror some of my thoughts and reactions upon return perfectly:
"The ugliness of New York. But I do like it here... In NY sensuality compltely turns into sexuality- no objects for the senses to respond to, no beautiful river, houses, people. Asful smells of the street, and dirt... nothing except eating, if that... Adjusting the self to the city vs. making the city answer better to the self."
And in reading her journals it raised a question so elequently posed last year by C.C. in my office... "How does one become Susan Sontag?"
"The ugliness of New York. But I do like it here... In NY sensuality compltely turns into sexuality- no objects for the senses to respond to, no beautiful river, houses, people. Asful smells of the street, and dirt... nothing except eating, if that... Adjusting the self to the city vs. making the city answer better to the self."
And in reading her journals it raised a question so elequently posed last year by C.C. in my office... "How does one become Susan Sontag?"
Saturday, September 09, 2006
Charles De Gaulle
My last view of France before boarding my flight to Geneva and then JFK... after the rainy, cold August my sister informed me that since I left, the weather has been perfect... what can I say about leaving a place that treated me so well for two months? Where I learned so much and got to explore? How can I keep that sense of exploration, of openness to new ideas and learning everyday in my day-to-day life in the US?
Opera and Monument Bastille
G. and I went to a ballet here earlier this summer. I like the juxtoposition of the old and the new in this photo. This is where the Bastille prison, which was destroyed by a group of angry revolutionaries, once stood (of course, there was only 6 or so prisonners there, so it was more symbolic of the "spirit of the french republic"). In the metro station here you can see some of the foundation stones from the prison.
St. Catherine's Market
G. enjoys a tea on a rainy evening (which soon turned sunny) in St. Catherine's Market, a quiet, enclosed square in the Marais away from busy streets. Usually it's clogged with people, but the cool weather kept most people away. It was a peaceful way, and felt very Parisian, to enjoy and reflect on my last evening in Paris.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Opera Garnier
Just walked by and thought it made for a nice shot. I went to the ballet, but at the more modern Opera bastille. I am a little updated out, but the last few photos from my two months abroad will be up in the next few days. In the meantime, you can click on any of the photos which will link you to my flickr account to see more photos! (if you are so inclined)
Princess 4 Eva!
An accidental place of tourism for me, but maybe planned on G.'s part as we walked to the Palais de Tokyo, the tunnel where Princess Di died, decorated with flowers and adoring graffiti. The heart I am pointing to proclaims that she is "Our pricess 4 ever!"
Rouleau De Printemps!
This is an abolutely fantastic, cheap, delicious restaraunt in Bellville. 5 euro tofu vermecelli, the most yummy sushi I have ever tasted, ample vegetarian options, I always wanted to go and eat there! From the Belleville metro stop walk up the hill on Rue De Belleville and take a right on Rue de Tourtille (I think it is called, your second right, the first one being almost an ally). They are closed on Wednesdays.
Magic Passion
I have no idea what this place is. It is right accross the street from G.'s apartment and I spent most of the summer looking at it. It has never, ever been open and a previous attempt (before I was there) by G. to break in amounted to naught. A store for magicians? Wizards? Or...?
Mariage Freres I
Tea and colonial memory at Mariage Freres. The tea room is set up to look vaguely "tropical" and waiters bustle around in starched white jackets and aprons like butlers. The room is adorned with posters boasting the 1931 colonial exposition that was held in Paris and the poster in the photo says "Where our tea comes from." How do we construct luxury along with the idea of racial or ethnic or cultural superiority? How is the memory of good old fashioned empire revived to make for a special or relaxing afternoon tea experience? Of course the tea was good, but I thought about Stuart Hall discussing how colonialism can be found in the classic english cuppa- that is, it is worked into our very ideas of the mundane as well as the deluxe.
Magic Hour
Watching the sunset at Vaux Sur Mer, looking out to the Atlantic and the lighthouses in the distance. The light was totaly amazing.
Existentialist Tombs
If I could quote from the existentialists with ease (besides hell being the others and blah blah blah) I would say something witty here, but anyways, we make things and we live and we love and try to both with passion and an eye towards justice and then we die, hopefully after a long satisfying life, right?
Saint Suplice
Amazing light on Saint Suplice after a torrential downpour. Anais Nin is always talking about Saint Suplice and so it gave me a little thrill to walk by it and watch the light changing on one of the towers as the sunset.
Black Cat at Shakespeare and Company
This black cat makes his home at Shakespeare and Company and we got to visit him later when we went to find some more books for my neice.
On the Eiffel Tower
Yes, there I am with my neice, looking sceptical on the top of the Eiffel Tower. The wait was 2 hours long and I felt like since I had done it when I was 12 I didn't need to again. But I was glad that I got to go with Chelsea, because it was something she really wanted to do and the view was pretty cool... I like seeing the streets of Paris unfolding beneath us, see the logic of the city, the beige buildings and parks all spread out below.
Vaux Le Vicompte
After I returned to France I met up with my neice and her grandmother. I drove them to Vaux Le Vimcompte and we explored the chateau and the lovely, manicured gardens. I felt that my mother would have been proud, as she has a penchant for chateaus, so I felt I paid homage to her interest by going. Versailles (which I have not been to) is based on the design of this chateau, but of course it is much bigger. It's really strange to think of people actually living here and thinking about how weird the idea of roalty is... it's a totaly fucked up idea to keep people in line once you give it half a thought. Like why should people pay and grovel for another group of people? Of course the same applies to any kind of arbitrary hierarchy.
Pink Flamingos, Gent
The night before I left Gent A. and W. took me to a very kitchy, very cute bar called Pink Flamingos. Barbie dolls hung from the chandelier, people ocrammed into the bar- hipsters, professionals, students, even an old man who everyone seemed to know. It was a perfect place to enjoy my last sips of really good Belgian beer in Belgium, as well as the pleasure of W. and A.'s witty conversation and excellent company.