I have always felt like a tourist in my own home city. I always lived in Staten Island, which is still technically part of New York City, but I can’t connect the concrete jungle of the city skyline as a part of my home. I grew up planning trips to “the city” (a.k.a. every other borough) without a second thought of the irony of these plans- I mean, I already LIVE in the city. I realized all of this on one of those “trips”, when I visited the Manhattan High Line.

Tourism at the High Line

Much to my embarrassment as a native resident, I found myself at what may be the one of the biggest tourist attractions on the west side of Manhattan. After all, it is a place specifically designed to view Manhattan as a huge mass of buildings; homes businesses and fabulous architectural structures rising higher and higher, surrounded by water and covered with beautiful graffiti. It’s absolutely breathtaking, even if you’re familiar with the island already. It also made me realize that I can think of myself as a New Yorker all I want, but I still act like a god damned TOURIST when it comes to the boroughs that aren’t Staten Island.

A mass of buildings as seen from the High Line

This city is my home, and yet it isn’t. Staten Island is definitely my home- I am simply a visitor everywhere else. I can tell you where each Staten Island town is and how to get there, but I am truly lost as to where each area is in the other boroughs. I am not even able to tell you where most of the towns in Queens are, and I’ve been living in the Summit dorms at Queens College for half a year now. The High Line was a wake-up call to my lack of knowledge of New York City and how utterly massive my home really is. I’ve lived here for 18 years and I’m still a New York City tourist; I might just be one for the rest of my life, too.

High Rock Park, Staten Island, New York – This is what I imagine when I think of home, which starkly contrasts what I imagine when I think of New York City and what I see at the High Line.

Thank You Andy Warhol!

Posted on December 6, 2014 by Allison Thorsen

I really hate Andy Warhol. He is such an unbelievable sellout. Draw something once, silk screen it, have dozens of the same image, make millions of dollars. That is the life of Andy Warhol. Holy shit, how am I supposed to respect an artist for making the same exact damn piece of art so many times? I am so beyond frustrated with how much people love his commercial bullshit. WOW, he can take one portrait of Marilyn Monroe and repeat it in different colors! AMAZING, how his silk screen could do all that! I will never be as talented as his silk screen, nor will I ever make as much money as his silk screen did.

Talented ol’ Andy Warhol can even draw simple objects. I can’t draw a Campbell soup can. I can’t repeat the Campbell’s soup can exactly the same way thirty-two times using a silk screen of my original drawing. WOW, I am so impressed with his artwork that any art student can do.

MASS PRODUCTION. That is what makes a great artist. I can then sell the same piece of art to everyone! Isn’t that just absolutely fantastic? Look, I can go to almost anywhere and get a tripped out portrait of Marilyn Monroe, isn’t that great? I love life when I can get my psychedelic Marilyn Monroe portrait that everybody else has. OH LOOK, I CAN GET MARILYN MONROE ON MY PHONE CASE- THANKS ANDY WARHOL, you absolute sellout.

Week Ten

Posted on December 4, 2014 by Allison Thorsen

Week Nine- Staten Island Can Be Beautiful Too

Posted on November 30, 2014 by Allison Thorsen

Week Eight

Posted on November 23, 2014 by Allison Thorsen

Taxi Driver: Murderous Justification

Posted on November 21, 2014 by Allison Thorsen

There is a harsh reality to living in New York City. In a city this big, it is hard not to get lost in the never-ending hustle and bustle, not succumb to consuming the loneliness the concrete jungle force feeds you. You are beyond miniscule: you can not escape the fact that you are only one person of the 8.4 million in this city, the 316.1 million in this country, the 7.125 billion in this world. One person. How can ONE person of the 7.125 billion make a difference, make a change?

In Martin Scorsese’s film, Taxi Driver, Travis Bickle copes with his loneliness and insomnia. Like many war veterans, he is stricken with mental illness. Travis desperately just wants to make a connection with somebody and maybe even make a change in the world. Travis gets lost within the negative aspects if the city: prostitution, street crime and politics. In such a seemingly horrible place, how can one hope to make a connection with somebody decent? This led to a sequence of scenes where Travis acts on his need to purge the city of its negativity.

This film puts murder into a different light. In Travis’ case, he was not only killing partially to satisfy his own bloodlust, but also to make a positive change in the world. The way the media portrayed Travis’ acts, he was considered a hero and not a murderer, despite the numerous aspects of the act that were criminal. So following that example, is someone a hero for removing an unnecessary evil from the world? If I were to go burn down all the cigarette manufacturing factories in the world, killing thousands in the process, with the justification of “this will make people healthier,” am I a hero or a murderer? The Line between hero and murderer is blurred and fragile.