an evening in flatbush

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an evening in flatbush

what one doesn’t see
in my brooklyn sky
there are children and dogs
there is you, maybe
i am also here
but you don’t see me
up here

there are bodegas selling vegetables
that i don’t like
but they do have pineapples
that look quite spiffy when
properly attired

there are overpriced books and
there are illusive coffee smoothie drinks
but they cost three dollars

in an image
you can’t hear the sirens
they woop and holler
you can’t hear the creole
blasting from the churches
there are a lot of them
they sound… lively
lively isn’t a good word
sometimes
i fancy that they sound panicked
or perhaps earnest
they prove their faith by shouting it into the street
like the fellow in port authority
monday night

you can’t hear the couple arguing
on the second floor of that building
down the street

you can’t hear the director’s dog
one floor below
i wonder what it looks like
the rest of us aren’t allowed to have one
though

you don’t see the parents
towing tiny children
that can barely reach
their parent’s hand

you can’t see the construction
the houses and apt buildings
their faces ever-changing
their roofs never complete

i leave every weekend though
i go home
upstate

i wonder what i miss
i wonder what i don’t

i miss the brooklyn sunsets
the early evenings
the sky that robert mapplethorp could be painting

The Metallic Serpent

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Slithering through the night,

The creature speeds ahead.

Always such a grand sight,

From its tail up to its head.

The subterranean heartbeat,

Which keeps the city alive.

Is only made complete,

As long as the serpent survives.

The jungle of concrete,

Is the reptile’s home.

Sometimes hiding beneath the street,

Or not—the snake is free to roam.

The masses depend on it,

For day-to-day travels.

The animal leads the transit,

Sliding along the track’s ravels.

Never allowed to rest,

The being is always awake.

Greeting the lost, the weary, the stressed,

Comforting those who’s tired feet ache.

Most capitalize on its power,

Using it as a service.

The basilisk eagerly devours,

Yet no one seems to be nervous.

New Yorkers harmonize with the snake,

Its part is too crucial to be obscured.

Mutually, it’s a “give and take”,

The snake survives as the city matures.

But all through this,

The serpent is unfading.

It revels in bliss,

Always accepted, never degrading.

And so New York lives on,

While the train’s jaws cling to the track.

It rides past the stations—soon gone,

Moving forward and not looking back.

McDonald’s: The Juxtaposition of Violence and Service

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Employees of this building painted this sign years ago when the location first opened in hopes of portraying a future for the neighborhood founded on respect. The location fostered a great deal of economic success, and brought jobs to the area in a time of great prosperity. However, as things began to take a turn for the worse, this restaurant became the centerpiece of a neighborhood in need of revival.
McDonald’s, a restaurant associated with quick, barely edible, cheap food, lies nestled between the Brooklyn College campus and the Flatbush Avenue, Nostrand Avenue Junction. In this photograph, we see the famous golden arches, which are synonymous with McDonald’s across the country. We see barbed wire, hanging over a sign with the words: “Cleanliness, Service, and Quality.” These words, while not descriptive with the McDonald’s many people experience, apply even less to the establishment on Hillel Place.
The brutal reality of this image lies in the contrast between the violence and service at McDonald’s restaurants in Brooklyn. Just three weeks ago at this McDonald’s, a young man, 18 years old, was gunned down in broad daylight. Two other locations in East Flatbush have had similar instances in the past three months. These shootings have been motivated by police violence or gang activity, and only demoralize members of the community who have been fighting for change. Snapshot NYC forces to look at not only the beauty of New York City, but also the problems, which it will be our responsibility to address.
These acts of violence bring attention to the rampant negligence that occurs in certain lower income neighborhoods. Residents are forced to resort to fast food restaurants due to little or no access or means to purchase healthier food. These concerns lead to epidemics such as obesity, malnutrition, and fast food addiction. This photograph does not reveal the struggle of many of the employees of McDonald’s restaurant. Their struggle to feed themselves and a family on a wage of $7.25 an hour embodies the very essence of the lower class struggle. Therefore, when choosing a place to eat, families ask themselves, “Why pay more than $1 for a sandwich at a grocery store.” This epidemic of malnutrition is propagated by venues like McDonald’s and other standard fare at the Junction, such as Popeye’s, or Burger King.
This photograph does not portray the homeless man that holds the door open for you every night in hopes of getting a few spare nickels. Instead, this portrays symbols of an epidemic of violence. The gang tags, which lie beneath the mural, paint a picture of a group marking its territory. A seemingly useless strand of barbed wire guards the words emblazoned on the side of the building. However, this projects a powerful correlation between the violence of the neighborhood, contrasted against the ideas of cleanliness, service, and quality. Perhaps this symbolizes the future of America as a whole. While originally founded on an ideal of high aspirations, some have lost sight of what makes this country great. There are those protesting in Wall Street now trying to overcome the barriers they feel have been placed upon them. Just as there is great turmoil and contrast in this photograph, this same idea is reflected in the social climate of today’s America. There have been many great things accomplished, however, there are still many more to come.

Crossing

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On the corner of Varick Street and King Street, there stand two men who want to cross the street, but cannot because of the stream of cars.  The cars are together, flowing quickly, leaving no way for the two men to cross the street.  The street is always flowing.  There is no way for the men to get across.  They see no gap wide enough that would let them run across unharmed.  If they step into this stream of cars, they run the risk of disrupting the flow or of being swept away.

They look at the sign above them.  It says that there is no parking on the street between the hours of 4 AM – 6 AM on Tuesday.  It’s Tuesday, but it’s late in the afternoon.  Why aren’t there cars stopping?  Why are no cars parked?

The man in the black shirt is looking for a clever way to get across.  He is in a hurry because he has to go visit his wife in the hospital.  She is giving birth to their first child and he has to be there.  He isn’t thinking clearly because there is a lot on his mind.

The man in the blue jacket is patiently waiting for the light to change.  He knows that the cars will stop when the light tells them too.  But the light is broken.

The two men try to fix the light.  They think there might be something wrong with the electricity.  They go to the base of the stoplights and try to get the electric circuit to be closed again.  They tear off the base of the stand and get to work.

They realize there is a problem.  There is nothing conductive they can use to close the circuit.  Neither of them is willing to sacrifice any of their things.  The cars are not stopping.  They have to think of another way through.

Finally, the patient man in the blue jacket notices the subway entrance on the other side of the street.  They see one on their side of the street.  They realize that they can use the tunnel to get across.

They go down, and realize that the subway tunnel does not connect them to the other side.  Underground they are blocked by lines of railroad tracks.

Frustrated, but out of options, the men get on the next 1 train.  They get off at the nearest stop where they can transfer and take another 1 train back.

 

 

Our Lady of Guadalupe Church and School

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Growing up with Our Lady of Guadalupe Church and School right around the block from me, it would be an understatement to say that they are two very familiar buildings. Although they are not as aesthetically appealing as other structures around Brooklyn, New York, they hold a lot of meaning for me. Serving as both a parishioner and a student for over 10 years has certainly influenced who I am today.

Save Brady’s Pond

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http://macaulay.cuny.edu/gallery/Snapshot-2011/Save-Brady-s-Pond

This is not your typical NYC scene. Brady's Pond marks the end of my street on Staten Island where I've lived my entire life. Recently, the pond has been threatened by pollution due to construction of a highway expansion. These signs have sprung up in surrounding areas as local residents and environmentalists protest the contamination of this rare environmental resource.

My Macaulay blog: The Utopia of Daniel

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Hello fellow classmates!

I wasn’t sure where to write about this, so I figured what better place to begin than the Macaulay Arts in NYC seminar blog? As I’m sure you all know, we’re able to start our own blogs through the Macaulay eportfolios site. I began my own blog the other week and entitled it: The Utopia of Daniel.

I have some big plans for the site and I hope to add my own background and header images soon, but until then I thought it would be fun to promote it here! Feel free to comment or post links to your own blogs, as I’d love to check them out.

See you all in class!

-Danny S.

Just Kids

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I realize that I am late and my response probably won’t count, but I’m posting anyway because I have some thoughts on the text. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the novel. Patti Smith bears a poetic license about her that is soothing to read. I enjoy taking a journey into the past (hers, particularly) and growing up with people from the 1950s, 60s, and 70s. The story between her and Robert is touching, to say the least – how she managed to bolster his art pursuit with unwavering support is heartening. It was pleasing to read something so optimistic, as opposed to Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, in which a 9-year-old boy deals with the tragic and untimely loss of his father.

I admire so many things about the two struggling artists. For one, I admire Patti Smith’s hard-working/competitive nature – she would always stay overtime just to earn a little extra money to support her and Robert. She was willing to remain by his side when he had his “sexual awakening” (for lack of a better term). And above all, she appreciated the simplicity in life rather than lavish living arrangements. Robert possessed the male-disposition that he always had to support Patti and it appeared that no matter what Patti did (even if he didn’t like it) he always supported her and never gave her a difficult time.

However dysfunctional the relationship, I admire the undying support and love shared by the two struggling artists, coupled with their hard work and boundless optimism. In short, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this autobiography because of its story, the way it’s written, and the emotions it evokes from someone who didn’t even live during that time.

-Alex Hajjar