Coney Island & the High Line

Coney Island and the High Line speak volumes of the diversity in experiences and people one can find in New York.  “Conceived more than 100 years apart, these two New York City sites are both products of their times, reflecting different ideas about recreation, culture, and society.”  The differences between Coney Island and the High Line suggested in the above statement from our class syllabus put the contrast between these locations mildly.  Coney Island is connected to the amusement side of recreation; fun at the beach, the thrill of the rides, a night at the ballpark, the occasional fireworks show, but also to something grittier.  Coney Island isn’t exactly clean, in any sense of the word, but that’s a part of the fun, at least in my mind.  The High Line used to have a similar feel to it in the city; natural but unruly plant life, the occasional homeless person, but now that it’s been turned into a park it fits in with some of its more artsy surroundings.

I went to Coney Island on a Saturday or Sunday afternoon, I can’t remember which.  The sky was cloudy and the air was cool; it felt like one of the first days of autumn.  I took the Q there instead of the B36, thinking I could get some good photos of the area from the window, but none of them turned out well.  Coming out of the station, I walked past Nathan’s and MCU Park before heading to the boardwalk, and from there I went to Luna Park.  I’ve been to Coney Island nearly every summer I can remember, so there wasn’t all that much I wanted to do, especially since I went alone.  It was coming out of park that I noticed something interesting.  Outside of Nathan’s a group of motorcyclists had gathered for some kind of small concert.  Weaving through the crowd of onlookers, I couldn’t help but think of my uncle.  He wore a rather long beard and always had on a pair of dark sunglasses, so he had something of the biker look to him.  When he visited Coney Island with my father and I, my uncle and the bikers would sometimes lock eyes for a while or simply nod without saying a word, as though they recognized a kindred spirit in each other.

Going to the High Line was a little more difficult for me.  I missed my stop on the way there and almost got on the wrong train when I had to transfer. And once I arrived, it was already raining heavily.  The rain wasn’t a total hindrance though, as it did make the park smell fresher, adding to the whole nature experience.  I was a little surprised, actually, about how much I enjoyed being there.  The plant life provided a scenic contrast with the surrounding buildings, and the view over the streets was wonderful.

What really caught my attention though, were the benches. I’m not entirely sure why, but I really like the way they come out of the structure instead of being separate pieces.  Leaving the High I took the first set of steps I saw and got lost trying to find the station.  But before I did that, I noticed a piece of graffiti on a building close to the park and took some photos. I would later find out that it was Monsieur Chat that I photographed, a graffiti cat that originated in France.  More information on him can be found here.

Not far from M. Chat was another piece of graffiti, one that read RIP High Line. I don’t know what the artist’s intended message was, but what I took away from it was a lamentation of the High Line that had been abandoned, but not yet turned into a park, an emotion expressed by Joel Sternfeld, “He would not just like the High Line to be saved and made into a promenade; he would like the promenade as it exists now to be perpetuated, a piece of New York as it really is” (Gopnik).  Having known the High Line only as a park, I can’t completely relate, but I can understand the idea as it relates to Coney Island.  The renovations it’s received are improvements, but I still feel like they’ve taken away some of the character of the island.

Work Cited

Gopnik, Adam. “A Walk on the High Line.” The New Yorker May 21, 2001: 44-49. Print.