Very often, one hears an accusation of someone or something being boring. However, it is often the one making the claim who is just not digging deep enough or bringing anything to the table.
In the last three and a half years of writing and doing the photography for this website, I have learned to examine things more closely by reading and researching. In doing so, I have been most often surprised by what lies beneath the book’s cover.

Part of this process has been taking greater interest in things that have been part of the New York City landscape, seemingly forever like a virtual white noise. One of these things is urban art or graffiti. Artists like Keith Haring started their careers using building surfaces as their canvas. Remnants of these works can be seen from time to time, like the graffiti of two of the most prolific in the city’s history: Cost and Revs (whose identity still goes unknown).

I was startled recently when I came across this mural in a SoHo parking lot. I had never seen it in its entirety – it is typically occluded by any number of vehicles. On this walk, however, it was very early in the morning before opening, and so I was rewarded with a unique, unobstructed view of the entire mural. Seeing this reminded me of how the murals, I Am the Best Artist by René, were everywhere in the 1980s & 90s in SoHo.

Typical of graffiti artists, the facts about René are shrouded in mystery. The New York Times ran one article about René’s war over wall space with French artist Le Pointre. René refers to himself on his website as René IATBA or I.A.T.B.A. (an acronym for I Am The Best Artist.) He appears to have grown up in Venezuela, according to his website, which itself is layered in abstruse writing and design elements. It is as enigmatic as the man.
If you want to learn the details of a street artist, be prepared to become an amateur forensic scientist. You will enjoy the work, if like many, you are a fan of Columbo, Monk, or CSI 🙂

This collage will give you an idea of the range of exhibits that is typically found in the Queens Museum of Art. The focus here is much more community involvement, with many displays of installation art and multimedia creations. When I was there most recently, Derick Melander was busy working with children to create a piece like that on display (left photo), Flesh of my Flesh.

Articles of second-hand clothing were being neatly folded and stacked according to color value – darkest at the bottom and top, with a white center. The overall effect of the tower of colored clothing was quite striking, and the involvement of adults and children was a great success.

In a small side gallery, an assemblage of car doors with a neon tube, Door Pile, by Corey D’Augustine, was being shown. In the main exhibit room, a number of BMX-style bikes affixed to the walls and skateboard ramps was featured.

I was fascinated with the display of the stereobikes, Basszilla and Trebblezilla, made by Future Shock (center photo), made by a group of Trinidadians from Richmond Hill, Queens. The construction of these monster radio bikes is a popular hobby in Trinidad. Some of these can cost as much as $4000 and emit 5000 watts. Gangs of riders roam the streets of Richmond Hill. One report says that the police have been lenient with boom bikes, owing to their appreciation of the workmanship involved in making these things. These are obviously contentious creations, heralded by some as art and condemned by others as more unneeded contributions to a city already laden with noise pollution.

In an ironic twist, on the exit ramp from the main exhibit room, we found a plaster cast of Pietà – a plaster cast of Michelangelo’s original work, which in 1964 was transported from the Vatican and displayed at the World’s Fair…

The thing about public sculpture is that once it is created, it isn’t going away, and when it is a large work, it really can’t be ignored.

Regardless of criticism, a work can take on a life and persona of its own, due to its pure existence, irrespective of aesthetics. Even a work that may generally be regarded as an abomination will often take on a certain charm and, in time, become loved like an ugly duckling. The Eiffel Tower is an excellent example. Considered an eyesore by many at the time of its construction, it weathered quite well. Here is a comment made at the time by William Watson’s U.S. Government Printing Office publication of 1892’s Paris Universal Exposition: Civil Engineering, Public Works, and Architecture:

“And during twenty years we shall see, stretching over the entire city, still thrilling with the genius of so many centuries, we shall see stretching out like a black blot the odious shadow of the odious column built up of riveted iron plates.”

The Eiffel Tower was originally built in 1889 as the entrance for the Exposition Universelle, a World’s Fair marking the centennial celebration of the French Revolution. Plans were to have it torn down, but it remained. It is now generally seen in a positive light, and its presence is a major icon on the Parisian skyline.

The Rocket Thrower in the photo was created for the 1964 World’s Fair and is located in Flushing Meadows-Corona Park, just a stroll away from the Unisphere.
It was designed by Donald De Lue. From the NYC parks website:

“He designed the Rocket Thrower as a heroic, 43-foot high bronze figure hurling a rocket heavenward with his right hand, and reaching for a constellation of gilded stars with his left; this version was based on designs for the theme of man conquering space …”

This sculpture was met with mixed reviews. The New York Times art reviewer John Canaday found the piece to be “the most lamentable monster, making Walt Disney look like Leonardo Da Vinci.” Robert Moses (organizer of the Fair), attempting to bolster the artist’s fragile ego, consoled De Lue by remarking, “This is the greatest compliment you could have…[Canaday] hates everything that is good . . .” Read more about it here.

When I happened upon this sculpture, I found it quite striking and not at all a lamentable monster. But perhaps I have become inured to bad sculpture or I am not art critic enough…

I have always loved maps and architectural models. As a child, I built a bird feeder modeled after my family’s home. My crude rendering was applauded by all who saw it, as would be expected when your primary reviewers are family members. As an adult, maps have always been my number one priority before traveling to any destination, and I have collected them for years. I love the color-coded Michelin maps in three different scales.

So the Panorama of the City of New York, housed at the Queens Museum of Art, is particularly special for me, with a map and model all rolled into one. This scale model (1″ = 100 feet) of the five boroughs of New York is one of the most remarkable and little known exhibits in the entire city. See second photo here. A passion for maps and models, however, is not necessary to fall in love with this creation. Museum visitors soon become mesmerized, picking out their homes, favorite spots, landmarks, or perhaps just show off their orienteering skills to companions.

The Panorama was commissioned by Robert Moses for the 1964 World’s Fair. This 9,335-square foot architectural model is the world’s largest model of a city. It includes every single building constructed before 1992* in all five boroughs – a total of 895,000 individual structures. During the Fair, the Panorama was one of the most popular attractions, with an average of 1,400 visitors per day. The original exhibit was designed to give a simulated helicopter ride over the city – visitors traveled the periphery of the model in fake helicopter cars for a 9-minute tour while listening to a narration by the newscaster Lowell Thomas.

From the Queens Museum website:

“The Panorama was built by a team of 100 people working for the great architectural model makers Raymond Lester Associates in the three years before the opening of the 1964 World’s Fair. In planning the model, Lester Associates referred to aerial photographs, insurance maps, and a range of other City material; the Panorama had to be accurate, indeed the initial contract demanded less than one percent margin of error between reality and the model.”

The museum building was originally built to house the New York City Pavilion at the 1939 World’s Fair and is the only structure surviving from that fair. Between 1946 to 1950, it was home to the General Assembly of the newly formed United Nations (in 1950, it moved to its current home in Manhattan). The model has been part of the permanent exhibit since the Queens Museum opened in 1972.

You should see this magnificent model in person. Admission to the Queens Museum is only $5 and a subway ride away – why not take a ride and see for yourself?

*Model and Museum note: The model was updated in 1992 with over 60,000 structures modified (the original Twin Towers of the World Trade Center, however, still remain). A recent new upgrade includes lighting for audiovisual presentation. For information about the museum, directions, hours, and exhibits, see their website here.

New Yorkers can be extremely ethnocentric. I have frequently had discussions about popularity of the arts in the United States, and many believe, for example, that opera is very popular in America. If you stood in Lincoln Center on a night where Placido Domingo, Jose Carreras, and Luciano Pavarotti were singing and tickets were nowhere to be found, of course it appears that opera is very popular. If you go to the Metropolitan Museum of Art on a nice weekend day, it appears that the masses are interested in fine art.

But the reality is that fine arts, classical music, ballet, and opera are haute cuisines and that many, such as opera, are consumed by a very small, rarefied, older, well-heeled audience or students. These facts escape many New Yorkers who only see the world through very special glasses. Travel through America and you will find how few have ever attended an opera or even know who Puccini is.

Admittedly, these fine arts are not a necessity, but like any form of education or culture, they greatly improve a person. They are not practical. Unfortunately, most things in this country fall to a common denominator – that which can be quantified or used as a tool to do something that can be quantified. So the sciences are always favored over the arts, which are routinely cut from school programs. I say this as someone who saw himself as strictly a science and math person when younger – the last thing I expected in life was that I would be doing photography or writing.

Like it or not, to get most people interested in the arts, you need a hook, and for most, a little drama will serve as that hook. Something large, incredibly ornate, or very expensive usually provides the drama needed. So to take someone to the Metropolitan Museum of Art who has no particular love of art, my first choices are the Egyptian wing and medieval armor (seen in the photo). People understand armor, and most are fascinated by weaponry and other accoutrement of the world. The large imposing figures on horseback are very compelling. With some luck, this experience may served as an appetizer, possibly leading to larger meals of art later on.

Now many would say, why force feed a person with these things? If something is not immediately satisfying, why bother? Because I believe that art, like many finer things, is an acquired taste. Appreciation and love comes with exposure over time. The full depth and breadth of Beethoven’s work can not be instantly appreciated, which is difficult for many to understand in a world of immediate gratification. But the pleasure which one can derive from something more sophisticated can be great. For most people, if they look back over their lives, they see incremental improvements in taste and standards, with no desire to go back. Enjoying finer things and haute cuisine are not snobbery for its own sake, just a different perspective of those with an acquired taste…