NYC Day 1 – Date #149 – December 20, 2013
A: Where do I begin?? I feel we should give credit to all the places we visited because they were amazing and I’d highly recommend them. How did we find them? We either stumbled across them or asked people who seemed to be in to the same things we were (meaning we basically asked the young folks working in all the coffee shops we hit up, or just took a chance and went in anyway).
Gregory’s Coffee gave me a free coffee for contributing to their snowflake collection. Big ups. My favourite part of Friday was the MoMA. It’s easily my favourite place to be in the world, other than snuggling to movies with my cats and B. (But that’s gross (Am I 8?) and no one needs to know that.) Being in the MoMA makes me feel alive and inspired and full of fresh new air. What you can learn about methods and art and history and culture and emotion is endless and I can not get enough of it. It’s THE reason I HAD to go to NYC. Taking B to see van Gogh’s Starry Night for the first time was captivating and special. I almost shed a few tears. That happens to me. I made sure we were able to stand in front of it without anyone in our way. It’s important to me to take a couple minutes in front of pieces that mean that much to you; staring into the painting or piece of art like it’s just you and it and no one else can break the bond you’re building. It melts me. It’s completely inexplicable, unless you know the feeling. It is then that I am truly happy.
Other (new) mentionables for me: Magritte’s Girl Eating a Bird and The Lovers, Seurat’s Channel of Gravelines, Ensor’s Tribulations of St. Anthony, Picasso’s Fanny Tellier, Boccioni’s Those Who Stay, Polke’s Untitled (from 1969), and Pryde’s Scale XVI. My love for the Warhols, Twomblys, Pollocks and more aren’t included here.
So much happened. Maybe B can elaborate on other moments.
B: A trip to New York City is something that has never ended up on any lists of mine. I’m more the kind of person who figures if I do the right things and surround myself with the right people, I will end up in the places I’m meant to be at the right time. This may sound like I’m leaving a lot to chance or not taking enough responsibility of my future, but when you end up in an amazing place with someone you love, those concerns don’t matter. I came to New York City at the perfect time with the perfect person. Everything A wanted to do I wanted to do, and I just sprinkled our highlights at The MoMA and NBC Studios with trips to Diners or Coffee Shops (things I’m good at finding).
The coffee at Gregory’s was pretty good, but the espresso A and I had (something I never thought I’d share with A…duel espressos that is) at Zibetto Espresso Bar was incredible, hazelnutty, and smooth (and a bit too strong for A’s tastebuds).
Touring NBC was fantastic, fun, and informative. A and I have a very shared and yet different love for Broadcasting, and being inside such a historic and important studio felt incredible. I got to anchor a fake news broadcast on the tour and a lot of the people there said I did a good job; which felt good because I’m self-conscious about my broadcasting skills.
The MoMA was life-changing. I’m experimenting more with painting and sketching and A is totally right about how the presence of works by so many fundamental, important, and talented artists can be so inspiring. One of my most memorable moments was coming up the elevator and being totally halted, and taken out of my being by my first sight (ever) of a Cy Twombly painting. I felt as though my heart stopped, the breath had left my lungs, and my soul was connecting with every detail in the work. I wanted to share that feeling with A. Let her know how madly I loved this work and that time and those emotions it was stirring. Seeing works by Jackson Pollock was invigorating and the collection from Gerhard Richter blew my mind. I did a few sketches (something new) and wrote a few poems (something I saw A doing a lot). Here is the poem I wrote in front of Van Gogh’s Starry Night:
I stood close there
and felt the mutation
of a history
I tried to see
through the oil and strokes
to his beauty
and dreams –
both childishly simple
And still imposible.