View facing west as we await the ferry On an Easter Monday back in early May, Z, J, and I went on a cycling wander with our friends in Amsterdam. Though it was chill and overcast, we had a fantastic day exploring Amsterdam Noord. Two of our bikes on the deck of the ferry A… Continue reading A crossing to the farther shore
Montmartre— dans la lumière et l'obscurité These are photos from our first afternoon in Paris. It stayed light til 8:30. Now, you know, I've been dreaming of the trip— now that it's over. As I did before it was born. Friday was two weeks since we left for farther shores. It went by fast and… Continue reading Montmartre— in light and dark
A hundred eyes look upon us but they cannot see us Two bridges in fog and no one to cross them
None of us is a stranger to the need for endurance. It’s a universal theme; always returned to in stories. We endure. And in the strength we needful gain in our small hero’s journeys, we encounter the requirement of meaning. Neither the smallest nor greatest of trials is endurable without that ineffable, elusive thing we… Continue reading Enduring the caprices of the gods
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… Continue reading Some tall ones in the ‘Hatters
I've been on a new trajectory. It’s great; it’s weird, It’s new. I love new. I also love Old. That’s neither here nor there. I’ve been feeling like a teenager again, lately. In the sense where I’m acutely aware how temporary so many people in one’s life tend to be. It’s not a judgement call;… Continue reading When time turns in upon itself, you question everything
Out the front window near my desk, the swifting plash of car tires; drips dripping off the curled iron of the fire escape. Out the back window, where the trees climb higher than the roof, rain soft patterings on wet leaves; there is no wind today. The leaves have not even begun to consider a… Continue reading Rain soft patterings on wet leaves
And 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.… Continue reading The swishing of cars and in the distance, church bells
Along windswept edges of town amid stern midcentury angles, a bright unsunny light filters and glances; limns the geometric emptinesses between things on a weekend in shoulder season on a slip of land off the coast of Long Island. The color of the wood sea-silvered— salt boxes beheaded, re-envisioned by exacting minds, rise out of… Continue reading An austerity of angles sprouting from wild grasses
e daggar art: THE MUSEUM 