The Arts in New York City
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When I told my oldest niece that I was on my way to the opera, I got the response I was expecting. “Why?” In all honesty, I didn’t know. I had always thought negatively of the opera, seeing it as entertainment appealing exclusively to the stuffy and the pretentious. And, to make the situation even worse, there was a Yankee playoff game on that night, Game 3 of the ALDS, a game that I wouldn’t miss for anything.
Yet, despite my strongly held misconceptions and the distraction of the Yankee game making it nearly impossible to concentrate on the on-stage performances, I found L’Elisir d’Amore to be actually entertaining, much more so than the previous performance Spellbeamed, which left me more puzzled than intrigued. The performances on-stage were riveting and I thought the main characters were perfectly cast. Matthew Polenzani, by means of his distinctly emotional voice, was able to capture the heartfelt yearning that coursed through the character he was portraying, Nemorino. And Adina’s strong-willed independence was also exemplified by the booming vocalizations of the extremely talented Anna Netrebko. Regardless of the spectacular performances they put forth, the show was stolen by the delightful tastelessness of Dulcamara, the con man who sells the “elixir of love” that gives the opera its name. Dulcamara was truly a “big” character, and Ambrogio Maestri was able to embody that ostentatiousness astonishingly well, and provide some surprising comic relief. Scene-stealing characters like Dulcamara are typically either a hit or miss, and, in this performance at least, he was definitely a hit.
Which brings me to my next point, the Yankee game. When I ran downstairs to check the score during intermission, Hiroki Kuroda, the Yankees’ number two pitcher, was in middle of throwing a gem—8 1/3 innings of two-run baseball. As soon as the performance was over, I skipped down the seemingly infinite flights of red-velvet stairs and bolted out the front door, headed towards the nearby apartment of my Auntie Sari. There I bore witness to the long overdue, yet still surprising 9th-inning benching of the slumping Alex Rodriguez in favor of the hot-handed veteran Raul Ibanez.
This, in case you’re not the most astute fan of baseball, was an extremely, extremely gutsy call by the manager Joe Girardi, a decision that could have backfired terribly. But it didn’t. Ibanez belted a game-tying solo home run on the second pitch of his at bat. As crazy as that was, his heroics didn’t end there. In the bottom of the 12th inning Raul stepped up to the plate again, expectations weighing heavily on his shoulders. And he delivered again, sending the first pitch of his at-bat into the right field seats. The stadium erupted in cheers of “Rauuuuuul,” and I, sitting on a couch in my aunt’s apartment, couldn’t help but do the same. Not surprisingly, my aunt thinks I’m crazy.
The combination of a spectacularly performed opera and one of the most memorable Yankee games I have ever had the pleasure to watch, made the night of October the 10th one of the most elating nights in recent memory, and one that I will never forget.
Among the historically and culturally significant landmarks throughout the world, New York City is both a container for these places, and also a significant landmark in itself. Its crowded streets and open parks are familiar and renowned. The city is associated with the hustle and bustle of metropolitan life and a walk through Manhattan can be immersing and reflective. It seems as if you are just an infinitely small piece of something bigger, like a puzzle piece to an endless puzzle. Such flanerie has the ability to separate an individual from his or her self, simulating an almost outer-body experience. It is through such experiences that many receive enlightenment “which will thus complete his otherwise incomplete identity; satisfy his otherwise dissatisfied existence; replace the sense of bereavement with a sense of life.”
The Highline is a park in Manhattan, crafted from the remains of a railway. Prior to this assignment, I had never been to the Highline before and had set expectations of it. I was surprised to see that it was not your typical park with vast stretches of greenery . Initially, I had thought the park was a little bit chaotic, with sparsely distributed vegetation spread throughout the area. But the more I got to see and experience the Highline, the more I found myself appreciating its beauty and its sense of order. Looking from a more appreciative perspective, I realized that the natural placement of things in the park was indeed beautiful. Everything from the plant-life that has adopted the soil under the tracks as its home, to the narrow pathway of the center section showcased the ability of nature to invade a man-made structure. In this way, the Highline blends the spontaneity of nature with the structure and contrived-nature of an urban setting. Although the plant-life is scattered and dispersed, the linearity of the park and the arrangement of the greenery lend a sense of balance between nature and urbanism.
Due to the linear and isolated nature of the park, walking and engaging in flanerie is almost reflexive. The streets around the park are relatively quiet, a stark contrast from the usual noise-polluted environment of Manhattan. This subtleness of the park allows for the kind of freedom from the constraints and demands of the outside world.
Washington Square Park, a site located in Greenwich Village, is named after the first president of the United States , Washington Square has been a national landmark since its creation in 1871. Washington Square contrasts with the Highline as it is a more conventional park, which does not have the same kind of cooperation between nature and an urban setting, as does the Highline. Though it does not share the union of nature and metropolitan, Washington Square Park is architecturally admirable. The park and its surrounding neighborhood is synonymous with the NYU campus. The layout resembles a web, in which four paths lead to the main square of the park. The giant fountain in the middle of the park and the marble arch that looms over the whole area are two of the city’s most prominent tourist sites. These structures evoke the design influences of European architecture.
Although I pass by the area on a frequent basis, I never get tired of strolling down its paths. There’s always something going on at the park in the afternoons and mornings. I’ve seen protests held by students from the nearby university, and I’ve seen a man get arrested due to said protest. The arts are heavily emphasized, as there are a plethora of street performances ranging from jazz bands to solo pianists scattered throughout the area. Often times, there are aspiring painters attempting to capture the beauty of Washington Square Park on canvas. . Tester contends that “the figure of the flaneur is essentially about-being with others in the modern urban spaces of the city.” This is certainly true in Washington Square Park. Within the confines of the park, an individual becomes “the secret spectator of the spectacle of the spaces and places of the city.” The individual is allowed to immerse his or herself with what is going around him or her and also develop a sense of self-awareness while being aware of what is going on in the surroundings.. In the case of Washington Square Park, the flaneur is given multiple subjects of which he or she may engage in, in which they may indirectly participate in.
The Highline and Washington Square Park embody different aspects of flanerie. The Highline promotes escapism and the idea of a flaneur achieving a sense of wholeness and satisfaction in an urban setting infused with nature. Washington Square Park embodies the communal aspect of flanerie, in which a flaneur walks in the presence of others in order to develop a sense of self-awareness.
Duality in Urban Identity – The High Line Park and the 9/11 Memorial
The assumed role of architecture within civilization is often reduced to merely structures meant to house organisms for various purposes: housing, working, shopping, and so on. However, structures have evolved over the centuries, transitioning from merely dwellings for solely practical purposes into works of art that can be assimilated into a modern-day setting with their multi-functionality and plethora of uses. The High Line Park and 9/11 Memorial (the projected location of the Freedom Towers) lend witness to this as they are both pieces of architecture within New York City that rose out of the ashes of a former, practical structure and evolved into places that came to symbolize an even greater concept. Once a historic freight line, the High Line Park was transformed into an extended garden, complete with shrubbery, park benches, and a beautiful view from above. On the other hand, once the site of the Twin Towers, the 9/11 Memorial resurrects the glory of the World Trade Center in a location that commemorates the bravery of incalculable departed souls, workers, emergency personnel, and visitors alike. These two structures present the modern view that architecture does not necessarily have to serve a tangible purpose: it can exist to honor nature and human life, lending witness to the beauty of life and artwork in general.
The multifaceted approach to construction now enables sites to cater to an individual’s visual senses, rather than solely the functionality of the place in question. The fact that “the use of each [building] platform can never be known in advance of its construction,” provides insight into the impact of urbanization on the development of architecture in New York City. In fact, “in terms of urbanism, this indeterminacy means that a particular site can no longer be matched with any single predetermined purpose…each metropolitan lot accommodates…an unforeseeable and unstable combination of simultaneous activities, which makes architecture less an act of foresight than before and planning an act of only limited prediction” (Koolhaas 85). This applies to High Line Park as the setting was once home to a train line, considered to be the functional purpose—however, in time the park became a location where visitors could stroll at their leisure, observing the Manhattan skyline amongst the comfort of beautiful plants and trees clothing the once barren tracks. The enclosed pictures are a reminder of the dichotomous nature of the park as the tracks serve to commemorate its previous function as home to a subway line, while the benches and plants adhere to the visual aesthetics of the area, pleasing its visitors’ eyes and providing them with solace from the bustle of Manhattan’s city life and sensory stimuli. High Line Park offers its visitors the opportunity to become flaneurs and wander through the park setting while admiring the structures prevalent within it. The flanerie involved with the parks contrasts highly with that offered by Manhattan streets as the park is a more contained and less diverse region. The experience of walking through High Line Park offers one the peace of mind to escape the pandemonium of city life and walk into an alternate universe covered by vegetation and promoting relaxation. The benches and shrubbery succeed in doing so by offering a more comfortable and inviting environment for the visitor to sit down, as opposed to Manhattan streets’ emphasis on flaneuring through crowded roads, only to be met by the honks of taxi cabs and the shouts of frustration of city workers and travelers.
Likewise, the 9/11 Memorial meanders from the previous characteristic of Manhattan structures serving a tangible purpose as it dedicates its presence to the countless lives fallen at the World Trade Center. Once the center of trade and financial activity, the towers fell only to rise again as a place of solace for those wishing to commemorate the loss of loved ones. However, this occurrences demonstrates Koolhaas’ argument that skyscrapers are no longer the sole structures within Manhattan—plots of land once reserved for the construction of buildings can now be adopted into sites for a myriad of purposes, just the Freedom Towers will serve as both a memorial and the site of the new World Trade Center. Similar to the High Line Park, the 9/11 Memorial offers a wide expanse of land through which visitors can freely wander—however, the feeling differs in the sense that the sights and sounds associated with Manhattan are more prevalent within the location. While the High Line Park was more reclusive and segregated from city life, the World Trade Center’s location is located right in the middle of it in an effort to offer easy access to visitors and workers. Although the location was serene, it was difficult to meander through the crowds of tourists and visitors. I had to wait a few minutes to find an opening where I could stand and witness the actual memorial, a gargantuan square-shaped monument that led into an abyss of water. The monument was engraved with the names of people whom had perished during the tragedy. The memorial structure itself was unlike anything I had ever visited before, its unique structure ultimately overweighing the difficult process to view it. However, flaneuring wasn’t quite the same as there was less scenery to marvel at. The city skyline of various skyscrapers and trees was the generic one I had been used to since I had spent quite a bit of time already walking through Manhattan. Therefore, it wasn’t as unique a sight to see or ponder about. Interestingly, both the memorial and High Line Park had benches within them to serve as a resting spot for visitors, lending further insight into the multifaceted nature of modern-day city structures that serve both a practical and visual aesthetic purpose (a train line or finance center on one hand, and a park or memorial where a person could relax on the other). The dual nature of these city structures is exactly what defines New York City’s urban identity as one that takes into account both form, function, and aesthetics, being not only pleasing for practice usage, but also for people to enjoy and truly experience firsthand through visual stimuli. Without this duality, urban life within New York City would simply be skyscrapers whose purposes were limited to work and housing. Rather, this innovative perspective on architecture has allowed New York City to evolve into the diverse location it is recognized as today.
