The Arts in New York City
Throughout the ages, humans’ creations have reflected the era they live in. The High Line Park and Empire State Building are two such creations that reflect the very different nature of their time. The Empire State Building is a 20th century marvel of architecture, while High Line Park is a simple walkway with some greenery through the West Side of Manhattan.
The Empire State Building is, to put it simply, imposing. Looking a it from afar, ones sees a massive “thing” of steel jutting into the sky. 
The rest of the lower east side of Manhattan is similar in its steely, huge grey qualities. However, The Empire State Building takes it to a new lever. It builds on its surroundings, and is similar in from and function- but still manages to conspicuously stand out from afar. As Koolhaas put it, “The Empire State Building is to be a skyscraper surpassing in height anything ever constructed by man (Koolhaas 138)”. While the statement is clearly not true today, the concept remains- a building more massive than anything around it.
When one walks around The Empire State Building, one can’t help but feel lost in a sea of artificiality. There is nothing green in sight. Walking through the lobby, one is impressed by the cold, magnificent marble, but at the same time feels disconnected from nature.
It recalls the “Tower of Babel” of Auster- a building which only contained things man built “with his own two hands (Auster 75)”.
The building is clearly representative of ideas of the time of art and accomplishment. Making something powerful with the force of labor was a goal that many at the time strived for. Making such a gargantuan building was a monumental ask, and one which the people at the time would’ve approached with awe and amazement.
High Line park, on the other had, is a representative of a completely different era and very different values. From the very moment one lays his eyes upon the former train tracks, it’s evident that the path is long and stretches for quite some while. In stark comparison to The Empire State Building, it is a simple, one level walkway lined with bushes, grasses and shrubbery.
Above the floor of the city, yet so far below the top of the mighty skyscrapers, one truly feels what it’s like to get lost in the middle of everything. The most noticeable thing about the modern park is the way it combines modern construction, architecture and materials with natural and simple devices.
This enlightening feature is a direct result of modern ideas of beauty being not only manade, but natural and pristine. The park attempts to combine functionality it is a walkway, after all- with beauty and emerges as a bold statement of the era. Nature is art, and art is functionality.
The two locations are both results and products of the time. The Emire State Building is a call to the era of human creation, where nothing more than steel, wood and concrete are thought of. Is is the era of Manhattan, of doing, of building. The High Line is the result of a modern thought of combining both art and functionality into one being- something which other eras might have thought of as absurd.
In Michael de Certeau’s essay, Walking in the City, the idea of flaneury is surfaced as a major aspect of art in the unconscious mind. With that said, it seems as though underneath the somewhat chaotic but normal buzz in New York City lies more than concrete, skyscrapers and subway tracks. Certeau says that the act of flaneurism “offers a series of turns (tours) and detours that can be compared to ‘turns of phrase’ or ‘stylistic figures’; there is a rhetoric of walking” (131) By simply immersing yourself within the act of walking, one can note a lot about the area. Similar to the idea of a picture being worth a thousand words, a surrounding can act the same.
With the hell life of being a New Yorker, there’s always a necessity to have a place of relaxation, a getaway that’s only a subway stop away. Whether it is in the city itself or in one of the other boroughs, nature is never too far away from us. Although it may be hard to find this natural phenomenon as time goes on, it seems as though we aren’t losing this essential part of life. Instead, we try to find ways of blending it in. With a flaneurist mindset, I was able to see nature at work not only in its natural setting but also in an innovative way at the Highline Park and Prospect Park.
My first stop as a flaneurist was, ironically enough, in Brooklyn near my old high school. I would always visit this park once a week with my friends after a rough day of classes. Now in college, I was more than happy to come back and let out some stress. While walking to the Circle near Prospect Park West, I stopped and actually admired the entrance. For so long, I would just run into the park believing that all Prospect Park had to offer was in the inside. However, I finally stopped myself and saw the two pillars for their aesthetic beauty. These two tall columns reminded me of a Roman or Greek structure from ancient times. With that said, one may have thought that these structures would stick out like a sore thumb. However, I found these added pillars to be just right and succinct with the neighborhood.
Located in the Windsor Terrace, Park Slope area of Brooklyn, Prospect Park seems to represent a lot of its surroundings. While walking around, I couldn’t help but have a nostalgic feeling of the old Brooklyn. By old Brooklyn, I mean before skyscrapers and the new technological era that I have grown up in. With it’s many cobblestone houses and colonial feel the Park seems to reflect the age and maturity of the neighborhood. Surrounding the park, you have cobblestone paths and 4-foot fort fencing, similar to that of Central Park.
Another aspect of the Park that I found very fitting was the way in which it accommodates the people of Park Slope. To no surprise, the area is made up of primarily young white families or emerging artistic eclectic groups of people. With this said, many of these people probably shop at organic places, buy clothes from Brooklyn Industries, or run around the lake while walking their dogs or strolling their kids. The park offers many events that seem to fit the area. For example, there was a mini marathon and an organic farmer’s market. If you’re not an outdoor person, then you can always find Grand Army Plaza on the other side of the park with the library. It’s amazing to believe that all of this is able to mix with nature at it’s best.
Although the cold weather may bring the level of nature down, the vast colors of the fall season still struck me as beautiful. The trees, although in hibernation, just willowed naturally without any interference of tall buildings or skyscrapers. The autumn colors accompanied the landscape of the large lake with the crunching of twigs as well. Although it’s been a while since my last visit to Prospect Park, not a lot has changed. Even with its stagnant aspect, the park still offers this peaceful getaway from the crazy life of a New Yorker.
Taking the subway a few stops to the city, I found myself in the Meat Packing, Chelsea district at the Highline Park. What seems to be an antique of New York City’s past from the under path is actually an innovative and futuristic twist on one of the city’s most important pieces to its present success: the railroad system. Abandoned in the early 20th century but reinvented in the last few years, these railroad tracks combined with the futuristic influence of the ever-growing neighborhood creates the Highline Park. Running parallel to the West Side Highway and the Hudson River, the Park transcends the idea of nature and parks.
While trying to find actual remnant of the old tracks, I was surprised to see all shapes. When thinking of a park, one normally thinks of an area dominated by trees, flowers, or something of the sort. I must note that there was some to offer from mother nature. Although not as grand with trees as Prospect Park, you see the effort by the park to restore a natural beauty with gardens growing everywhere including old garden tracks. In addition, we get a small view of the Hudson, something needed as a balancing element in the architectural city of an expanding New York. However, I must point out the effects of the recent Hurricane Sandy that struck the park with great force. It is evident within the lack of color and somewhat lifeless appearance of the garden.
However, that aspect of a cliché “park with a garden” is greatly overshadowed by the geometric shapes and architectures that one sees. All the lines and futuristic influence I saw overwhelmed me. Instead of plants, tall buildings and skyscrapers casted their tall presence over me. It seems as though the city has taken a toll on nature as its industrializing influence is seen throughout the park. For example, one of the pathways is actually the bottom of a hotel. If that wasn’t distracting enough, one can find other skyscrapers amassing the environment. Furthermore, construction of another building took away from the natural beauty of the park itself. What was supposed to be an innovative park turned out to be a flop in my opinion. Besides the gorgeous view and walk, the park had nothing to offer. To me, it seemed too perfect, almost pretentious in its design.
It seems as though my own walk in the city has made me an amateur flaneurist. Preferably, I admired Prospect Park the most because it stayed true to the idea of a park with its simple beauty and recreational atmosphere. The Highline, on the other hand, offered nothing but shapes and a reemphasis on the busy life of New York City with the shadowing of skyscrapers. As you can see, by simply immersing myself in walking with a flaneurist attitude, I was able to connect a lot of ideas that I would have not seen if I were to just walk without purpose. There is so much more to the design of a park than an aesthetic or euphoric feeling. In addition to their beauty, there is history and influence that is just waiting to be conversed about.
Caribbean Expedition to El Museo Del Barrio
Having limited knowledge of the Caribbean and its artists’ works, I was doubtful that I would find anything intriguing or noteworthy at El Museo del Barrio’s Caribbean: Crossroads of the World exhibition. However, to my surprise, I found countless pieces that not only piqued my interest, but enabled me to see commonly accepted themes revealed through an innovative perspective. What especially struck me was the widespread influence of agriculture and slavery throughout the pieces—surely, plantation life and stories of the harsh workload Caribbean natives endured create a major portion of the rich tale these people can offer society today through their art and oral tradition.
Two pieces that especially resonate in my mind, even weeks after visiting the museum, are Consalvos’ mixed media collage, “Uncle Sam Wants Your Surplus Fat,” and Lam’s “The Dream,” a work created with oil on canvas. Despite the differences between the two works, each one represents a unique portion of the Caribbean culture and its people’s values.
As someone who loves to inspect multiple perspectives, I couldn’t help but stifle a grin at Felipe Jesus Consalvo’s “Uncle Sam Wants Your Surplus Fat.” Although the exact year in which his artwork was created is not known, it was circa 1920s-1950s. Referred to as a mixed media collage, the medium-sized artwork (around two feet by two feet) consisted of clippings from all different kinds of sources, including, but certainly not limited to, newspaper clippings, photographs, advertisements, and magazine clippings on .
At first, I found it difficult to discern the cacophony of images that I was being bombarded with, ranging from heads smoking cigarettes to cut-outs of the typical American girl holding beer bottles. However, once my eyes adjusted to the pandemonium, I was able to see the perversion of capitalism within Consalvo’s ingenious artwork that promoted satire and criticized the American way of life. Don’t be fooled by the seemingly playful images! They were actually representative of the sarcastic and demeaning tone of the piece! Consalvo personifies the anti-American sentiment that characterized the Caribbean region, Cuba in particular, as he highlights the consumerism America emphasized—this becomes prevalent through his repeated attachment of images and advertisements for cigarettes, liquor bottles, and Campbell’s soup cans. In addition, he mocks America’s forefathers George Washington and Abraham Lincoln, ultimately creating foolish spectacles out of both of them and placing clown heads upon men that were otherwise dressed in sailors’ outfits. Consalvo’s media collage belittles American politics and reduces it to a state of disorganized child’s play. Considering America’s role as the head of international politics, being a world leader in multiple negotiations between European nations during the time periods of World War One and World War Two, it was interesting to see the country being portrayed as else wise in this collage. On the other hand, the other works of art within the museum viewed Caribbean culture from related countries in the particular region in question.
Wilfredo Lam’s 1947 oil on canvas painting,“The Dream,” was another noteworthy work at El Museo del Barrio that not only challenged my senses, but created an ominous mood. The ambience brought on by Lam’s work was foreboding and frightening in some aspect as the dark colors created an abyss within my soul. The purple and black shading worked effectively to pique fear within me, immediately bringing to mind the thought of failure and death simultaneously. The painting consists of abstract creatures and shapes, each comprised of a triangular head and undefined features, like scraggly lines, for the body outline. The dark creatures looked as though they were feeding off one another, resembling the common perception of vultures feeding off human flesh in the depths of hell.
To me, the painting was an artistic rendition of Lam’s perception of hell and the destruction it would render upon its inhabitants. The undefined features of the creatures especially led me to consider the uncertainty of hell, a location that no one has returned to reveal information about, despite all the literature, artwork, and media published in relation to it. Hell remains an obscure and taboo concept that many scurry from in an attempt to avoid its negative nature—taking this into consideration, its abstract nature is completely appropriate and well-fitting. However, the fact of the matter is that Lam mustered up the courage to tackle the subject in his inspiring rendition of the place and successfully portrayed an abstract, yet effective depiction of hell. The abstract quality of the faces within the painting also made it relatively simple to relate to the figures. Whereas the other paintings and works of art within the exhibition portrayed darker-faced figures of Caribbean descent toiling in the fields, this painting displayed creatures that did not look human at all. Yet the irony of the situation lies in the fact that I was able to identity with these unidentifiable creatures more easily since they could have represented the common man—anyone with darkness in their lives, or something they had an innate fear of. This abstract quality is exactly what enticed me to look at the painting, despite all of the other visual stimuli with a more diverse, colorful palette prevalent within the very same room of the exhibition.
Overall, the experience at El Museo Del Barrio opened my eyes to a completely new culture and diverse history that I had previously had very limited knowledge on. Although I have come to learn more about the emphasis of plantation life on the people’s morale, I have much left to learn. The trip to the exhibition promoted not only a greater appreciation for the arts in my own life, but also sparked a hunger within me to learn more about other cultures and become a more multifaceted individual that can embrace diversity and appreciate innovative knowledge.
The second piece of art that appealed to me was called El Exodo Cubano or the Cuban Exodus. This painting was made in 1963 by Asilia Guillen, who is from Nicaragua. This painting was made of oil on canvas. It is a moderately sized painting, about two feet in width and a foot in height.
I liked this painting because of the intricate detail in the vast landscape of Cuba and detail of the tiny people fleeing. There were several paintings in the museum that caught my eye; this was one of them because it sort of just popped out at me. It popped up at me because of the various colors utilized in the painting. I thought that the water in the painting was so blue and clear. Guillen uses so many eye catching colors; they are vibrant and full of life. There’s green and brown in the middle; blue in the ocean, and yellows, reds, oranges, grays and whites in the whole painting.
I believe this painting depicts the serious nature of the Cuban exodus. It is evident that the people in the painting feel an overwhelming sense of desperation. Cuba in the painting, is still evolving; it is still has its basis in agriculture and farming, something that doesn’t seem to satisfy the people and their needs. People want to leave; one group is even leaving on a barrel. The desperation is also seen in the people waiting at the edge of the shore while others leaving are waving white rags. The seriousness of the painting is also evident in the scene on the bottom left hand side where there is, what I think, cannons firing at people. This fits the desperation of the people to flee the country. Overall, the painting delivers a message of great sadness as the people in Cuba flee from its terror.
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.
New York City is often referred to as a “concrete jungle.” It is a chaotic maze with its own unique scenery consisting of its natives, sounds and smells. It can be both terrifying and glorious. It can feel foreign or familiar. This “jungle” is made up of giant looming buildings casting shadows on the rushing passers-by. Bright lights accompany the sounds of blaring horns and buzzing conversations. The smells from street vendors, restaurants and apartment windows waft through the air, providing a brief tease as individuals hurry on their way. And, as with all jungles, there is that one spot that makes people pause in awe; that perfect spring or field that seems out of place and is, therefore, all the more wonderful. In New York City, one of these places is the highline, an unexpected oasis in a frenzied jungle.
The highline is an elevated park created from the restoration of old railroad ruins. Unlike a traditional park, like Central Park or Prospect Park, the highline does not have multitudes of tall trees, but rather sticks to small bushes and flowers which seem almost natural to an abandoned overgrown railway. It has a very simple and modern setup, with simple geometrical benches scattered around and steel railings along the sides.
One of the amazing things about the highline is that it unifies the otherwise conflicting ideas of the creation of modernism and the preservation of nature. Here we have a modern structure that adds to the “hip” industrial neighborhood surrounding it by inserting aspects of the natural world. It is a park that merges with the city instead of trying to escape from it.
I found the creation of the highline to be in accordance with the observed history of Manhattan in regard to the natural versus the artificial. If we look at the cow theme that plays out in “delirious new york” we see a movement from “real cows [grazing] on the site of the first Waldorf” to totally synthetic cows that are “stiff and lifeless, but effective in its production of…endless…milk” (p. 150). Finally, in the last appearance of the concept “cow,” we see both “real cows” and an artificial cow that “milks champagne…and whisky” (p.51) inside the Waldorf, as an integral part of the social event. This evolution of the cow in modern society is repeated with parks. Before the highline, there was nature and the city, two opposite ideas that were in no way connected. What makes Central Park so wonderful is the fact that it is in the center of the hustle and bustle of the city, yet is totally disconnected from that chaos. However, the highline is able to merge the two. It is a park, but not one where you can forget where you are. It overlooks traffic lanes instead of lakes and has modern buildings along its sides instead of trees.
You cannot forget you’re in the city while walking on the highline because the city is an integral part of it. In this way, the highline is able to represent progress and the hope for a unified future where nature plays a more prominent role in our industrialized lives.
This idea of progress and hope is also represented through the Freedom Tower. Just as the highline represents a more promising future, the Freedom Tower does this on a much larger level. Through memorializing those lost on 9/11 this skyscraper takes the ruins of the old and uses it to form something better and stronger. Koolhaas was correct in his statement that a skyscraper, especially one as impressive as the Freedom Tower, “is itself and through sheer volume cannot avoid being a symbol” (p. 100). Merely as a result of its magnitude and significance, the Freedom Tower becomes symbolic of a brighter future.
However, the similarities between the highline and the Freedom Tower don’t end at symbolism. Both these locations have highly modern designs with clean-cut geometrical shapes and sharp edges.
However, unlike the highline, the Freedom Tower doesn’t contain that sense of unifying nature and modernism. The Freedom Tower retains its own type of beauty, one that is entirely structural and artificial down to the rectangular fountain with the gaping square in its center.
During the birth of the skyscraper, many individuals produced varying ideas of what they envisioned as the future Manhattan. One of these sketches called theorem, created in 1909, depicts the skyscraper as being numerous levels of “virgin sites on a single metropolitan location” (p. 83). I found it interesting that this vision of the skyscraper more strongly resembles the highline (in design rather than height) than our skyscrapers today.
In truth, both these objects are a result of the ongoing history of Manhattan, and it is exciting to see what they will evolve into in the future.
One of the first pieces that I really liked at El Museo del Barrio was a piece called The Prize, or in Spanish, El Premio. The Prize was created in 2007 by artist Hew Locke. Locke is a British artist of British and Guyanese descent.
The actual object itself is not too large, a little over two feet in height and a little over a foot in width in my estimation. For the main body of the piece, he uses golden pieces to mimic the coloring of a trophy. Several of the pieces are lion heads and circular pieces with a sort of face on them while others say ‘Get Well’. There are some plastic green plant fronds and different plastic colored flowers: pink and yellow. There is even a wand, some tinsel with stars on it, and several strings of small golden beads that wrap around the entire piece.
I thought this was appealing because it was just mix of everything. It had bits and pieces of objects that seemed to be scraps. It reminds me of the left over pieces and scraps that we place in the art bin for future use. I thought it was cool how Locke used a bunch of seemingly unrelated objects and put them together into one cohesive piece that, for me, makes sense. I also thought it was cool how he made flat pieces come alive into a three dimensional object. For me, the title also shows how we may “prize” the bits and pieces in our lives, the small things that other people may not think are important but are important to us. The fact that one can make things from little scraps and bits and pieces, things that we may even “prize” and cherish.
I think this piece is playful in that it uses different things like flowers and beads and a wand even, to make something whole. I think it shows us how seemingly unrelated things can be made into something beautiful. It shows how bits and pieces that one would normally throw away can come together to make something unique. Overall, I think this piece begs the question, what can one make from leftovers?
In my recent visit to the Queens Museum of Art’s Caribbean exhibit, two pieces of art stuck out to me.
The first of those pieces, Abate Antonio Jose de Cavanilles, was made my the columbian artist Salvador Rizo (1768- 1816) in 1801.
This oil on canvas displays the abbot examining a botanical specimen while taking down notes- perhaps of a scientific nature. The portrait as a darker tone, and is pretty average in most respects, giving the work a feeling of solemnity.
The painting is based on true occurrences. The abbot pictured was, in fact, the namer of countess plants and substantially contributed to early floral understanding of the Americas. Fascinatingly, the abbot later named the specimen he is examing Rizoa- after the artist himself.
What stood out to me about the seemingly ordinary piece was the scientific nature of it. The piece provides an insight into the start of discoveries in new lands and how important these discoveries were. The artist also managed to beautifully capture the thoughtfulness of the abbot.
The second piece I chose is The Goat With Two Heads by Georges Liautaud, a Haitian artist who lived from 1889- 1991. The piece is a wrought iron created in 1961.
This interesting piece depicts a two-headed goat standing on its two legs, much like a human being. What attracting me to the piece is the plain iron which leaves so much open to interpretation. The goat can be taken as being festive, mournful, angry- almost every emotion can be seen within the piece. The piece also hints to a conflict of sorts, as the heads face in opposing directions.
One possible interpretation of the piece brings back Dionysian themes. The piece causes one to recall a Satyr- the Greek representative of the wild nature of man. The two heads can be taken to be a rendering of man’s struggle with his very own mind- the fight to control ones wilder side. Man is in constant struggle to control his will, emotions and actions and become an educated, refined being. This two headed goat can be see as a depiction of the nature of such struggles- man is, in essence, fighting against himself.
Tanmai Shah Walking In The City
MCHC 1001
Both the Highline Park and flushing meadows Corona Park are City of New York Parks. When one thinks of a park, one imagines a large open space where people can engage in all forms of recreational activities situated in the midst of nature. Flushing Meadows Corona Park follows this convention. It has vast open spaces perfect for all kinds of activities. Flushing Meadows Corona Park also connects six recreational complexes offering an even greater amount of options to choose from. However, the High Line Park doesn’t follow this convention. The High Line Park is a raised walkway that winds its way through the streets of Manhattan. It is significantly smaller than Flushing Meadows Corona Park which limits the variety of recreational activities. It, however, allows one to enjoy the structure and architecture of the city, something which the Flushing Meadows Corona Park does not offer its visitors. 
Compared to the High Line Park, the Flushing Meadows Corona Park provides a wider variety of recreation. Walking through this park one gets a sense of the endless possibilities of activities that can be done there. The experience changes seasonally; the fountains at the Unisphere are on in the spring and summer, the foliage is in full bloom, and the temperature is warmer, as opposed to in the fall and winter when the amount of visitors is much less. The Unisphere is a unique structure which is the site of many events such as the Breast Cancer Awareness Walk and the World Fair. Walking though the park you can see countless plots of open spaces which visitors use as soccer, cricket, and baseball fields, basketball, tennis, and badminton courts, and as trails for biking, walking, or jogging. Passing by people playing sports makes you want to jump in and play with them.
As mentioned previously, the park connects a zoo, an art museum, a botanical garden, a science museum, and a baseball stadium. These attractions provide unique recreational opportunities that other parks do not have. The Unisphere is describes on page 291 in Delirious New York as, “The Globe is 120 feet in diameter with an open grid of latitudes and longitudes supporting the land masses… It dramatizes the interrelation of the peoples in the world and their yearning for peace through understanding.” Walking through the park you experience firsthand the diversity of visitors, the melting pot phenomenon of New York City on a smaller level. The Unisphere struck me as compelling because of its grand size. It’s a park landmark that is great to visit no matter what time of year it is. 
The High Line however, is situated in Manhattan. The High Line deviates from the normal idea of a park. Walking through the High Line for the first time gives visitors a new idea of what a modern park can be. The High Line is constructed on a raised platform that continues through several streets in the city. It offers visitors unique perspectives of Manhattan as well as of the statue of liberty and the empire state building to not just tourist but local residents.
In terms of recreation there are fewer options due to the size of the park. Walking through the High Line you can see tour groups and many photographers that are attracted to the unique perspectives and views of the city that are offered. Like the Flushing Meadows Corona Park, the experience of walking through the High Line alters with the seasons.
During the warmer seasons the park attracts more visitors. The High Line was designed by the city for people to enjoy the city, but a few coincidences here and there make the experience all the more worthwhile. A billboard saying, “God is too busy to find you a parking spot,” right over a parking lot, or a incredibly realistic cardboard cutout of shirtless man in the window of a nearby apartment waving as people walked by provide with people laughs along the path. Along the path of the park, there are spots designed to let visitors view the unique architectural designs of buildings close by.
In Delirious New York, Koolhaas states that, “-as Manhattan changes from a city into a metropolis, the need for escape becomes more urgent,”(32). This need for escape gave rise to idea of the High Line Park. With exits and entrances located frequently along the path, visitors can descend to the hustle and bustle of the city or ascend to escape the concrete jungle.
Both the High Line Park and Flushing Meadows Corona Park serve as a place for recreational activities and as a place to escape from the city life. Each offers its own unique perspective of the city. Each stands as a testament to its time.
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.
Somewhere among the 2,028-block grid that is the island of Manhattan, lies the High Line.
Spanning 19 of those blocks between Gansevoort and West 30th, the High Line is a public park built on top of a former railroad; a railroad that was abandoned for almost 20 years. The High Line has come a long way since the barren days of the 80’s and 90’s. In fact, it can now officially be considered a hotspot for both tourists and couples alike. While the High Line has become a form of modern art, the Empire State Building is a typical Koolhaasian skyscraper of early Manhattan architecture: built, on a single plot, with no purpose other than to exist as a skyscraper—as the tallest structure in New York City. 
Despite these differences, the High Line and the Empire State Building are two forms of a singular concept discussed in Rem Koolhaas’s Delirious New York, that of architectural lobotomy.
Walking down the High Line was a far cry off from my expectations. To be frank, I was expecting a lot more flowers, artwork and general color, not the drab beige weeds that lined either side of the walkway. Though I understand that late November is not exactly the season for vivid flora, a scene slightly richer in color was definitely anticipated. Yet, there is still something beautiful and entrancing about turning something that was once as abandoned and forsaken as the High Line was, into a work of art, if only a seasonal one. It is a classic story of redemption, with the High Line playing the part of the phoenix rising from the ashes. The buildings of the immediate area are nothing like the massive or gaudy structures one may find framing the streets of Times Square or 5th Avenue, rather they are reflections of the High Line itself—artsy, beautiful, and just a little bit pretentious.
This recent New York Times article claims that the gentrification of the West Side has led to property values in the area increasing by 103%. The existence of this particular gentrification process is solely due to the presence of the High Line, and the crowd it typically attracts.
In introducing the concept of architectural lobotomy, Koolhaas writes, “…a lobotomy—the surgical severance of the connection between the frontal lobes and the rest of the brain to relieve some mental disorders by disconnecting thought processes from emotion. The architectural equivalent separates exterior and interior architecture.” (Koolhaas, 100) In explanation, architectural lobotomy consists of the interior of a structure being segregated from the exterior, the inside divorced from the outside. The High Line embodies a form of architectural lobotomy similar to that of “Murray’s Roman Gardens,” which are discussed in Delirious. This form is where the interior “registers and manipulates shifts in metropolitan culture.” (Koolhaas, 104) and the exterior is fairly utilitarian, accepted through its inconspicuousness. In short, the interior is fantastic, while the exterior remains plain. This is precisely the form that exists in the High Line– the walkway, with its artwork, landscaping and atmosphere, serving as the fantastic interior, and the railroad itself acting as the plain exterior.
The Empire State Building was, at least according to Koolhaas, born from the establishment of the 1916 Zoning Law. The zoning law, in essence, limited the options architects had in designing skyscrapers, thereby enabling them to choose. The calling card of the Empire State Building is its legendary height, which at one point made it the tallest building in the world. I always find it slightly humorous that whenever I must find the Empire State Building, all that is required from me is that I merely crane my neck and walk in the direction of the structure towering overhead.
Concerning its representation of architectural lobotomy, the Empire State embodies a second form, opposite from that of the High Line. Regarding this alternate form, Koolhaas asserts, “Pure product of process, Empire State can have no content. The building is sheer envelope. The skin is all, or almost all. Empire State will gleam in all its pristine beauty, for our children’s children to wonder at.” (Koolhass, 141) In this variation of architectural lobotomy, the exterior is still divorced from the interior, but here the exterior is the fantastic. It is the skin of the building that all will marvel at for generations, making the interior an afterthought. 
Of this interior, Koolhaas observes, “Its ground floor is all elevator; there is no space left between the shafts for metaphor.” (Koolhaas, 143) It is the interior that is functional, pragmatic and sensible, while the exterior inspires all those that gaze upon it.
It is not despite their differences, but rather because of their differences that the High Line and the Empire State Building are capable of encompassing the concept that is architectural lobotomy. While it is the interior of the High Line and its beautiful walkway that represents the fantastic, it is the exterior of the Empire State that achieves the same result. And as much as the exterior of the High Line epitomizes utilitarian functionality, it is the interior of the Empire State, consisting mainly of elevator shafts, that exemplifies that same practicality.
Even though I’m a native New Yorker, I haven’t even experienced half of what New York City has to offer. I’ve never been to the Statue of Liberty! It’s strange how people spend their whole lives in the same area and never visit their area’s most famous landmarks. My guess is that the hustle and bustle of New York City prevents many native New Yorkers from truly enjoying the city they reside in. Just walking along 5th Avenue during rush hour is enough “recreation” for one day. However, this past Sunday I managed to pause my busy college schedule and enjoy a pleasant walk in two New York City attractions—High Line Park and Central Park.
The first stop on my trip was High Line Park. One of my close friends accompanied me on my journey through both parks, which made the experience even better. We picked up some hot coffee from the Starbucks on 8th Avenue and 23rd Street and made our way to the elevated park.
There were a lot of people at the High Line, but it wasn’t too crowded. The narrow park was filled with benches, which offered a brief moment of rest and relaxation. Plants lined the edges of the High Line but they looked very dry and faded.
Prior to visiting the park, I glanced at it on Google Maps Street View and it looked nothing like what I saw in person. I think that the High Line is definitely more appealing in the springtime when all the plants in the park have flowered or gained color. The park was supposed to be a magnificent Garden of Eden. Instead, I saw a dull patch of discolored grass. I regret that I didn’t get to experience the High Line in its best state, but I would love to visit the park next season.
Another thing that I couldn’t help but notice was the surrounding region and structures. Evidence of construction was all around. An idle crane was towering over the park. The park abruptly ended on one side at a caged gate, beyond which one could see unfinished industrial projects. Certain areas of the park were under scaffolding. High Line Park seemed out of place with all the construction.
I thought that maybe the park had been severely affected by Hurricane Sandy, especially since it was operating on a limited schedule. On the other hand, I admire how New York City’s administration essentially recycled an old train line and turned it into a stunning greenway. In today’s fast-paced world, it’s nice to know that we still have the time and the will to create a recreational opportunity meant to entrain as well as distract the public from congested city life.
Thankfully, the unfavorable season and ongoing construction didn’t stop us from enjoying our walk. My friend and I walked the entire High Line from the entrance on 23rd Street to 30th Street, and then all the way back south until the park ended. It was a peaceful location—perfect for catching up with an old friend. The High Line was a wonderful place for a casual stroll, especially because I was able to view New York City from a different perspective. We spend most of our time either at the street level, turning up our heads in awe of the looming buildings above us, or inside buildings, marveling at the bird’s eye view of the city. But because the High Line was at an intermediate altitude, it offered an entirely new and distinctive view of the city by blending the best of the views offered from the street below and the buildings above.
The next stop on our adventure was Central Park. We took the C train to the 81st Station along Central Park West, also known as The Museum of Natural History stop.
As we made our way through Central Park, I noticed that it had also been affected by Hurricane Sandy, but significantly less than High Line Park. A few trees were overturned, but overall, Central Park seemed to be in good condition. However, even though the changing season negatively impacted the High Line, it made Central Park even more colorful and vibrant. One particular tree was a mesmerizing shade of red—I saw it from a distance and automatically thought to myself, “Definitely taking a picture of that.”
Central Park is sixty times as large as the High Line (Central Park has 843 acres while the High Line has 14), so it’s no question that Central Park had a more diverse variety of plants and even topography. In Delirious New York, Rem Koolhas describes Central Park as a synthetic Arcadian Carpet, stating “if Central Park can be read as an operation of preservation, it is, even more, a series of manipulations and transformations performed on nature “saved” by its designers. Its lakes are artificial, its trees (trans)planted, its accidents engineered, its incidents supported by an invisible infrastructure that controls their assembly” (23). It’s interesting that all of the topography in the park seems so natural, and yet, all of it was artificially created. My friend and I found ourselves struggling up steep slopes as well as carefully treading down hills in order to make sure that we didn’t slip on a leaf.
Personally, I think Central Park was much more fun than High Line Park. Though the High Line was peaceful and quiet, Central Park was full of life. Hundreds of people walked by me, entertainers blew huge bubbles, and musicians played a few Christmas jingles on their saxophones. Everything in the park was constantly changing and moving. Wollman Ice Skating Rink was packed, horse carriages lined up one by one, and athletes crowded Park Drive. Certain areas were peaceful, while others were full of commotion.
One of my favorite parts of the day was on a small bridge over The Lake (yes, I know, very original names). Several rowboats were floating peacefully in The Lake, while a man was playing soothing music on his guitar. It was identical to a perfect scene straight out of a romantic movie. Even the sun was beginning to set. My friend and I continued on through the Park, and eventually exited on Central Park South and 5th Ave.
What I thought would be a dull and prolonged day turned out to be interesting and fun. Getting out of the house and going out to the city was one of the best ways I spent my free time, especially as a native New Yorker. Both High Line Park and Central Park encompassed a variety of recreational and cultural activities, which all New Yorkers can experience.
This weekend, I visited the El Museo del Barrio for its Caribbean Arts exhibit. Among the many pieces I saw, two in particular piqued my interest.
The first object is a piece by Milton Rosa-Ortiz titled “Olaja!/Hopefully!” from Puerto Rico. Made in 2005 Olaja! is a structure made of pieces of arranged glass. The piece resembles a small chandelier in size and appearance. Each shard of glass is translucent and reflective. Olaja! hangs high from the ceiling and is connected and kept together by thin wires. One side of the piece is highly dense, but towards the other side, there are less and less glass shards bundled together.
I chose Olaja! because it was aesthetically pleasing and because it stood out to me in the exhibit. Most of the other objects in the exhibit were paintings so Ortiz’s shiny, three-dimensional work pleasantly surprised me. The way the glass and its reflection worked with the lighting of the room particularly grabbed my attention. According to its description, the pieces of glass were found on the beaches of Guánica which highlights the American landing on those beaches during the Spanish-American War. Initially, I had thought that Milton’s piece was made to illustrate the beauty of ordinary things and to highlight the idea of parts of a whole coming together. Upon obtaining some background information, it was clear that Olaja! is recalling the hope felt by the people at the end of the Spanish-American war and its transition from a dense object to a subtler one conveys the fleeting nature of such hope.
The second object is “Vue de Base-terre, Guadeloupe” by Emile Goury made in France in 1839. Vue de Basse-terre Guadeloupe is an oil canvas piece. As its title suggests, it is a landscape of Guadeloupe. The picture shows a boy standing along a pathway. The sky is a deep blend of orange and purple and an orange-purple shaded layer envelopes the whole piece. The sun has just begun to set and the shading of the boy and his surroundings reflect this. Mountains can be seen in the background and fresh greenery is abundant. To the boy’s right is a placid lake.
The colors of Goury’s piece were what called out to me. The color of the sky dictated the palette used for the whole piece and the prominent orange and purple shade seemed like the perfect blend between warm and cold colors. Using these colors, Goury depicts the peaceful and naturally beautiful life in rural Guadeloupe. Although it seems as if nature is the focal point of the piece, the boy’s presence seems accentuated. He only takes up a comparatively small portion of the canvas, but his bare feet and wrinkled clothes add a human element to an otherwise nature-filled landscape. I found myself asking what the boy’s story is and where he is heading. Is his appearance reflective of a low social standing, or is it just the cultural norm? Did he stop in the middle of whatever he was doing to take a look at the beautiful scenery, or is he accustomed to the view and just going about his day? The landscape, if it were by itself, would be incapable of generating such questions and Goury uses the boy to illustrate a kind of connectedness between people and nature.
The second painting I chose is Cane Fire. It is a 20 by 24 inch oil and watercolor on canvas and was painted by Leslie Lounsbury in 1941. This piece is mostly made up of reds and browns and depicts a Barbados cane field on fire. There are three central columns of fire as the focus of the painting, with smoke billowing around them and smoldering sugarcanes toppling in all directions.
What initially attracted me to this painting was its vivid colors. The bright reds and oranges of the fire in contrast to the deep browns and grays of the sugarcanes create a powerful display. The strength of the colors in this painting accurately depicts the mesmerizing, yet terrifying power held by these blazing flames. Additionally, there aren’t any real identifiable shapes visible, only hazy dark objects, which adds to the general feeling of chaos and confusion that accompanies fire. All these components lend themselves to the mystique of the work and the conflicting emotions that it triggers.
When I was looking at this piece of art, I didn’t know whether to feel sorrow for the livelihood that was being destroyed or pleasure for the beauty of the piece. Obviously these two emotions aren’t in any way mutually exclusive. However, there is a certain guilt involved with finding beauty in something that has caused others devastation. In the end I made peace with myself, concluding that this conflict of emotions is probably what makes this a piece of art to begin with. If it had not been so contrastingly beautiful than I would not have given it much notice, and it would not have been able to effectively convey the mourning of a livelihood reduced to ash.
Few experiences can compare to the pleasure of walking around and unearthing the numerous wonders of New York City; everywhere you turn there are countless hidden treasures that one can stumble upon. Among these many sites there are those which are created intentionally for entertainment and allow for pleasure as a direct result of their design and those that are designed for some other purpose but have the ability to be viewed with beauty despite this fact. The Stern Auditorium and Perelman Stage of Carnegie Hall is a clear example of the former whereas the High Line Park would be an area that would be classified as the latter type; despite this, I personally derived an equal amount of satisfaction from strolling through the remodeled, formerly dilapidated park as from appreciating the structural elegance and relative simplicity of this section of one of the most famous performance halls in the world due to their abilities to allow me to partake in the act of flânerie within their urban structures.
My experience with the High Line Park began much before I arrived; knowing it to be a freight line which was repurposed to function as a park, my expectations naturally were very low and I envisioned a set of tracks with a few flowers dispersed randomly in an attempt to cover up the obvious fact that it was not initially intended to function as a tourist attraction. However, much to my surprise and delight, not only was the park surrounded by beautiful foliage and innovatively constructed walkways and benches but there was also no hint of the past purpose that the park once served.
Additionally, the High Line Park blends seamlessly into the environment in which it is located while still serving as a clear refuge from the hustle and bustle of city life; in essence, it seems that it belongs because it looks as if it must belong as an area that can be used as a form of escapism from the many daunting structures that immediately surround it, resulting in large groups flocking to it.
The cultural identity of the site is epitomized by the way in which its design adheres to the situation from which it was borne. The construct of the benches and the wooden bleachers exude sleekness while retaining their functionality.
Moreover, its location amongst these gargantuan city buildings and vibrant, hectic streets allow for an urban appeal, despite the fact that the park itself was built in a more rustic nature. Finally, the era and manner in which it was created hugely influenced its design. Its creation occurring during the urban construction boom following the destruction of the World Trade Center—alongside the facts that the similar Promenade Plantée had just been created in Paris from an abandoned rail line and that there had recently been a powerful petition to prevent the rail line from which this park had originated from getting demolished—allowed the architects of the High Line not only significant means but also freedom in their construction; this resulted in interesting decisions in design like creating a tunnel surrounded by foliage alongside wide open spaces of grass and seating.
Carnegie Hall—as opposed to the High Line—had a significantly more privileged and refined history, resulting in a much more majestic appearance. During my trip to this iconic music venue (again contrary to the High Line Park) my expectations were elevated to an almost unreachable point; this is the epitome of musical significance, the site at which all of the most significant musicians of the past century had at one time performed.
However, my actual trip there left me feeling somewhat underwhelmed by the building itself; while its stage is imposing and it possesses some of the most intricate golden molding and among the most well-conceived lighting fixtures I have ever encountered, traveling through the hall alone still fails to evoke the same level of emotional appeal provided by the natural beauty of the High Line Park.
The music hall was created for the specific purpose of providing an atmosphere conducive to successful musical performances and functions effectively in that role through its expertly crafted acoustic design. However, the true enjoyment that one may achieve from the spectacle of the construct itself comes from one’s ability to witness the crowds that flock to this venue; by observing there members of the societal elite in their natural habitat, one can gain an immense amount of satisfaction.
While these two urban locales may seem completely disjointed and inseparable, when the idea of Flânerie is considered in the context of our course readings it is apparent that there is a common thread that links the two based on one’s ability to derive pleasure from the community to which they are connected. Tester—in his portrayal of a flâneur, one who partakes in flânerie—says that “for him, the private world of domestic life is…a cause [of] feelings of crisis” and he is “only home existentially when he is not home physically” (2). Though this sets the foundation for the actions of the flâneur, his essence lies in his desire to go “about the city in order to find the things which will occupy his gaze and thus complete his otherwise incomplete identity” (7). The primary way in which Tester suggests that he may begin to counteract this emptiness is by attempting to become lost in the urban atmosphere of the crowd; this idea is that which I believe truly provides the recreational and societal significance of both of these locations. Both provide areas that are saturated with people and architectural beauty and therefore allow for one to feel this sense of wonder at both the peopling and physical constructs that comprise them; by walking through these areas we can gain the societal benefit of them through practical recreational experiences.
This integral aspect of these attractions is further supported by the representation of Quinn’s desire to lose himself in New York City in City of Glass by Paul Auster; “by giving himself up to the movement of the streets…he was able to escape the obligation to think, and this, more than anything else, brought him a measure of peace” (8). These historic locations allow us the ability to throw off the yoke of required thought and rather aim towards relaxation in the beauty of these areas.
While one may believe that the iconic Carnegie Hall and the newly—and not so prestigiously—founded High Line Park are total opposites in every sense, the people and beauty which comprise them (though different in both counts) are the primary linking factor among the two. This is due to the fact that they both provide an atmosphere which allows one to partake in flânerie with the attempt of finding meaning in these sites’ active and wondrous natures;
though borne of different circumstances, this theme connects all urban environments based on a form of recreational pleasure which may be derived from them, suggesting a significant societal purpose that they each exhibit. Though it is easy to dismiss claims of similarity between these two locales, it is clear that through walking in and around them they are not quite as different as they may seem.
Emergia Caracas by Miguel Rodriguez Sepulveda (2007) , Colombia- -DVD Video, El Museo del Barrio, NYC
In this small, approximately 15” X 15” video, we are given an 8:00 minute clip of what seems to be a tattoo starting to fade away through the sweat that perspires through the tattooed person’s body. By running in place in front of a white backdrop, this ink begins to fade away. What is inked into the Afro-Caribbean (You can tell from the color of the skin) displayer’s back is a picture of what seems to be the face of a white upper classmen, probably European, during the colonial era of his area. After almost 5:00 minutes of what seems to be a complete waste of time, the ink fades and smudges this face. Towards the end of the video, one can barely recognize the face of this unknown colonist. Finally, to end the video, photographers and audiences of the artwork take pictures and applaud the artist on his ideas and unique approach to the concept of slavery and colonialism.
As one may have guessed, the idea of an 8:00 minute video may seem very boring and tedious to watch, especially if nothing interesting is happening. I literally watched the video hoping that “interesting” something would occur. “Where was the art? I can’t see it!” However, what really caught my attention was the detail in which the colonist’s face was inked into the displayer’s back. I couldn’t help but notice the true details, such as bone structure and pompous features that this probable European had. In addition, my mind kept contemplating, trying to figure out what was on his back. Was it ink? Sweat? Marker? All of the above? Regardless, I respect this innovative idea that Sepulveda was aiming to portray. Through this sweat and hard work, the displayer can break free of their past, almost socially working hard to their status, while also sweating or “removing” the remnants of their colonized heritage of slavery. However, I must also note that the smudged face is still there towards the end of the video. This last note probably symbolizes the fact that this enslavement period of colonialism will always be with the people of, no matter what. I think this piece struck me as compelling just because of its idea and concept, which I believe is true. No matter what you do, there will always be some sort of history or past that comes with you to your present or future.
Here is the link to the video:
By Herve Bueve (2009), El Museo del Barrio
Martinique 2 by Herve Beuze (2009), Martinique – Metal & Synthetic Materials, El Museo del Barrio, NYC
No larger than a regular TV, this 3’ by 5’ structure shows the island of Martinique, made of some type of cork in an orange color, hanging on the wall by a black web like metal structure. The island of Martinique seems almost rugged and crooked with the topography of the island jaded, almost natural and similar to that found on champagne cork pieces. The black web behind the island stems asymmetrically and definitely sticks out, contrasting from the orange island.
In the midst of all these Caribbean inspired paintings was this large structure hanging on the wall. Sticking out like a sore thumb, it was only natural that I checked out Martinique 2. Behind the metal structure was this interesting idea of the country as a magnet, almost web like atmosphere. The concept of the spider web seems to symbolize the attraction of imperialistic countries to the region due to what the country offers, usually labor, pride, and a base, which increased European influences in the area. By portraying the island as a rough area through it’s topography and texture, I believe Bueve was also trying to note the difficulties of the country, including slavery, similar to all of the other countries in the Caribbean region. Again, I believe the artist’s concept was very compelling and thought provoking which led me to choose this piece. It’s always interesting to see how someone portrays an idea or theme in an artistic style. Although this imperialistic ideology is not present within today’s society, the idea of magnetic webs in the world is seen today in all places as countries have been assimilated or transformed into many diverse cultures, which was something we talked about English class the other day. (Probably another reason why it stuck to me)
The first painting I selected in El Museo del Barrio was Paisaje (Landscape). This painting is a medium sized, 24.25 by 19.75 inches, oil on canvas which depicts a weathered, grungy white background with various globs of brown, green and grey streaks painted on it. The painter, Fidelio Ponce de Leon, lived in Cuba and is considered by many to be the most authentic Cuban painter of his time. Unlike many other Cuban artists who portrayed an idealized Cuba, Ponce painted scenes of poverty and sickness which characterized the life of the average Cuban in the 1930s.
This piece caught my eye mostly because I visited Cuba around a year ago and had my eye out for Cuban art. The dullness of this piece coupled with the title Landscape may at first seemed very abstract, and perhaps Ponce meant it to be, but something eventually clicked within me and this piece became an instance of Ponce’s authentic depictions. As I continued gazing at this piece, it became clear that this artwork could have no other title because I had personally experienced this Cuban landscape.
Although Cuba has some of the most beautiful beaches in the world and tourists can vacation there in luxury, the average Cuban lives in total poverty. Walking down the streets of Havana takes one to narrow alleys with dilapidated, crumbling buildings on either side. Small shirtless children play soccer or tag while neighbors sit on cracked steps talking and watching passers-by. To my eye, Ponce’s painting is an exact portrayal of the beaten stucco walls that make up these Cuban buildings. For the average urban Cuban, their landscape isn’t a beautiful beach or crisp mountainside, but the wall of the building across from where they sit and watch their children play.
Prayer is a mahogany sculpture carved by Edna Manley in 1936 and is the second work of art I found particularly captivating. Considered the “Mother of Jamaican Art,” Edna Manley created Prayer similar in form and idea to her better-known sculpture Negro Aroused. It is a rendering in brown wood of a black man kneeling, with his hands clenched and raised to the heavens. The nude body of the man is rounded in contour and slightly disproportionate in relation to his limbs. In the emotions that it portrays, Prayer is meant to be representative of the civil outrage directed at the colonial system present in 1930’s Jamaica.
The powerful emotions inherent in Prayer are the aspect of the artwork that I found to be the most fascinating. During the 1930’s, Jamaicans active in their country’s civil rights movement were often forced to confront their own helplessness head-on, as they strove for autonomy and suffrage. Perhaps these men turned to G-d in their search for control, and it is this relationship that Prayer seeks to depict. The vulnerability and desperation implied in both the nudity of the wooden man and in his positioning are emotions that anyone who has turned to prayer in a moment of need can identify with.
Of the few pieces that truly caught my eye at the Queens Museum of Art, El Colombia stood out the most. Painted in 1968 by Noe Leon of Colombia, this oil on canvas seems to feature only the most extreme shades of the various colors it exhibits. Its color palette is a display of mostly primary colors, and so the painting was inescapable, striking in its vividness. El Colombia depicts a steamboat, chugging leisurely down a broad river. Only the colorful passengers standing on the steamboat’s deck can rival the vibrancy of the greenery lining the riverbanks. And a dash of deep red among the riverside vegetation contrasts sharply with the dark and light greens of the plants, elevating the scene to an almost Garden of Eden-like state.
It is this heavenly, paradise-like quality that I find compelling. El Colombia comes across as a painting portraying the idyllic, gentle, and relaxed lifestyle that so often comes to mind when one imagines the Caribbean. As a child, it was often paintings depicting similarly sublime and perfect scenes that I found so irresistible. Just like those representations of the serenity to be found in nature’s beauty, El Colombia captures the eye, making it almost impossible to look away.
Basic Facts: “Un mercado de line con un kiosko de lino y vendedor de verduras en las Indias Occidentales” is an oil painting on canvas by Agostino Brunias (1728 – 1796). The title translates to “A linen market with a linen stall and vegetable seller in the West Indies”. Brunian is an Italian painter who eventually settled in Dominica. This painting is in El Museo del Barrio.
Description: “Un mercado…” is a traditional painting, with realistically portrayed subjects and a traditional medium. There are many components to this painting; it depicts a market scene, which includes people of various races and ages. There are black women wearing European influenced Caribbean dresses, looking like petit fours, very pretty. They sit in the linen tent, talking to two fancy-looking mulatto women. Then there are some Caucasian red coats flirting with native women next to the tent. Farther in the background is a topless woman carrying a basket on her head. Beyond her a small crowd gathers to watch two teenage boys, wearing nothing but white knickers and headbands, engage in hand-to-hand combat. In the right foreground, a woman breast-feeds her naked baby as those around her tend to vegetables such as corn. A green mountain looms in the background, with a faint blue ocean in the left background.
À mon avis: Brunias’ painting is a traditional painting, but, for his time, it did express a unique acceptance of the mixing of peoples. He portrays Europeans, natives, and mulattos interacting without tension.
The painting exhibits a traditional sense of beauty (realistic features, chiaroscuro, traditional medium of oil, et cetera); however it is the diversity Brunias presents that captured my attention. It reminds me of Haiti, all the blends we have. My own family, my maternal side, is a mix of white and black and mulatto; European and African and native Haitians, all living a country where you can munch Caribbean sweets from street vendors or relax in your bungalow or walk on dirt roads, all while surrounded by different sorts of people. The painting is not urban in reality, but its concept is urban in the sense that there is a huge spectrum of things going on, involving different groups of different people. I wish I could be there – or should I say, it makes me wish I could be in Haiti, even though it is not. But it has mountains like Haiti (for which the country was named), and Dominca is also a francophone Caribbean country. This painting gives me nostalgia and pride for a land to which I have never been.
La famille de Renards
(My maternal family in Haiti a couple of generations ago.)
