Category: Architecture/Place/Memorial (Page 1 of 2)

When we visited the 9/11 memorial, we were each given different tasks of what to focus on when viewing the memorial. I was given the task of trying to figure out the meaning/symbolism behind the memorial. Here is what I had to write:

The big pools represent the spots where the towers once stood. The names are written on the sides to preserve the memory of those who perished. The entire pool is very vast and empty, and includes a gaping hole in the center, illustrating the emptiness and void caused by 9/11. The lives killed, the memories lost. Also, the falling water is separated into individual streams, each falling independently of each other. This serves as a memory for each individual who lost their lives.

However, towering over the pool is the Freedom Tower, which serves as a beacon of hope and renewal. It almost seems like a guardian angel, “watching over” those who lost their lives, and vowing to protect them. To stand in their defense. To prevent their names from being tainted, and memories from being destroyed.

For our outside arts event, Abraham, Adam, Katherine, Melissa, Sandy, and I visited the Irish Hunger Memorial, near the World Trade Center in Manhattan. Although we originally planned to visit the museum of feelings (which had a line of approximately an hour and a half), this particular memorial served as an excellent historical substitute.

The Irish Hunger Memorial had a very unique architectural design. The majority of it appeared to be a floating landscape. After researching the location, I found out that it contained soil, stones, and vegetation brought from the west coast of Ireland. Underneath the landscape was some sort of marble wall that had many different quotes about the Irish Potato Famine and world hunger in general. The     quotes were illuminated in the night sky by distinct black and white banding patterns. Finally, at the top of the memorial one could enjoy a breath-taking view of the Hudson River.

The Irish Hunger Memorial also had a very poignant and emotional aspect to it, just like the 9/11 memorial. Although not as popular as the 9/11 memorial (probably partially attributed to the fact that we went at around 6 p.m. when it was dark out), one could sense the sorrow that the structure evoked reminding everyone of the horrible famine that occurred between 1845 and 1852.

Yes, that’s right.

For my “outside art event”, as required by the class, I saw the Taj Mahal. While this wasn’t during my time as a student in Macaulay, it definitely was an memory I will keep with me for a very long time.

In February, my family, some close family-friends, and of course myself went on a “Bharat Yatra”, or what one would call a pilgrimage. It was a way of “closing the circle”, so to speak, because although my great-granparents were born and raised in India, no one had visited since then. So, it was our responsibility to return to the motherland to see what all the fuss was really about.

Growing up, I always heard of how great India is. Although my parents were born in Guyana, which was once colonized by the British, my grandparents, and soon thereafter, my parents always retained their Indian heritage, and so we practiced Hinduism strictly and upkeep our customs. We visited many holy places, but one that stood out to me aesthetically was, of course, the Taj Mahal.

Continue reading

Form 1

I am staring down at a black slate panel. Engraved in the panel, which reflects some of the sunlight back at me, are the names “Robert Louis Scandole,” “Robert C. McLaughlin Jr.”, “Johnathan Neff Cappe,” “Andrew Alameno,” and “Timothy J. Finnerty.” There are other names, stretching down the panel for what seems like infinity. Looking slightly higher up, I can see a massive yet elegantly made hole in the ground. It is similarly made jet black, yet highly reflective, like a kind of black marble. Water runs down the sides of the hole in streams, gather down in what looks like a foot-high pool, and slowly makes its way to the center of the pool, where it falls down a second hole that is deep enough and at a shallow enough angle from where I am standing that I cannot see the bottom.

Form 2

I am staring upwards at a large building. It is an example of modern art reminiscent of the famous Sydney Opera House. It a large white, curved building that arches forwards towards me, resembling perhaps part of the body of a massive worm or serpent burrowing into the ground. There are countless spines extending diagonally upwards and to the left and right of the central body that appear to curve further outwards the further you go down the structure like a human ribcage. At the front, there is a crest-like shape that serves as a cap to the structure’s flowing spines. Running down the center of the structure appears to be a glass window, likely a ceiling. There is a large fence separating me from the structure.

Form 3

I am in an extremely gaudy and elegant building. A church, to be specific. I can see a memorial to a famous naval captain who lived in the 1800s. His name is blocked out by shadow, as the text is covered by a large arch supported by two terra cotta-colored columns. The arch is decorated with an etched floral pattern. The part of the text that is not covered in darkness reads, “…of CHARLESTON August/Died at WASHINGTON August 4, 1865/A Naval officer for 38 years/Without a superior. above all sectional feeling/He distinguished himself in the service of the/UNION, in command of a Frigate at PORT ROYAL,/at SUMTER in command of as Monitor,/at MOBILE BAY as Fleet Captain/and Commander of the Flag Ship HARTFORD./A JUST MAN, TRUE PATRIOT AND GOOD CHRISTIAN.” Several words on the memorial are written in a larger font size than others. Below the text is a small roof-like structure, on which is etched the capital Greek letter alpha (A) inscribed in the capital Greek letter omega (Ω).

People 1

In front of the fence are various people milling about doing various things. Two young women in brightly-colored shirts and black sunglasses are having their picture taken by a man in blue wearing a black backpack. To their left and my right, a large group of citizens are walking across the frame, speaking to each other as they do so.

People 2

I see a young man and a young woman, walking next to each other. Only their right sides are visible to me. The man is a tall fellow with brown, close-cropped hair, a grey shirt, blue pants and brown leather shoes. Not much of the woman is visible from here, only her blonde hair, black backpack with blue water bottle sticking out conspicuously. and similar blue jeans and brown shoes. There are multiple thin trees around them, kept from growing too thick by restrictive concrete bricks around their bases. They stand separately from the crowd gathering by the hole.

People 3

On the empty stretch of hardwood floor between the church benches and the altar, several teenagers with bags and headphones pass by, my fellow students here to record the art. But staring towards the altar, seemingly oblivious to the students walking by her, is a middle-aged woman. She is wearing a black and beige leopard print shirt that showcases her girth, along with a brown, posh-looking handbag, black cloth pants that reveal her ankles, and black slip-on shoes. She has a golden bracelet on her wrist, her hands clasped. She has curly hair and thick black-rimmed glasses.

My title is yet another poor attempt at a pun, but here we are again.

My time at the highline in class was actually my first time there. Prior to going on the trip, whenever I imagined the highlane, I imagined a miniature suspending bridge, adorned with flower pots. I imagined it as a place that was aesthetically pleasing, only good for pictures with a loved one to remember you were there. But, I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the Highline is actually an elevated, linear piece of an old New York City railroad track, overlooking the Hudson. I was even more pleased to observe the art pieces that were displayed there.

In this post, I have chosen to display a piece called Panorama, by Damian Ortega. The piece, inspired by works of graffiti bent in metal, is displayed in three locations throughout the Highline. The description, however, to my disappointment, was brief and only explained that the art “hangs suspended in deconstruction”, and that his art “superimposes handmade writings onto the landscape”.
Continue reading

I chose this rough metal telescope sculpture because looking to the stars always conjures a beautiful image.  In the industrialized, urban first world, light pollution prevents us from gazing upwards and enjoying the view.  Despite this, astrophysics remains one of the most exciting fields today, with new discoveries constantly being made.  NASA’s mars rover recently found evidence of superficial salt water, which used to be a subject of science fiction.  SpaceX CEO Elon Musk appears on talk shows and interviews announcing his plans for colonizing the red planet, and even goes into detail on how it can be accomplished relatively soon.  Even if this telescope were real, you’d barely see anything of interest thanks to our city’s brightness, but also due to the telescope’s relatively small size.

However, to me this telescope is no longer about observing the photons radiating off of celestial bodies (looking at stars).  This telescope is looking into the future, a symbol of exciting advancements and discoveries to come.  It’s a metaphor for scientific progress, and the potential everyone has to grab a telescope themselves and unfold the mysteries of the universe.

And the people at the High Line will walk by it without a second thought.

My favorite highline photo was of Ryan Gandor’s “Zooming Out”.  It’s a medal model of a an iPhone, a wallet, and a USB drive. At first I didn’t even see this work of art. It’s very inconspicuous. I walked past it but knowing that on the map given to us, it was there. I ended up being too curious and went back to look for it. I’m glad I did because it turned out to be my favorite. I love how realistic it looked. I almost thought someone really forgot their stuff when I saw its figure from a far. I think its commentary from what I understood is actually pretty interesting. Who doesn’t have a phone and wallet in there pocket or bag anymore?Candor took a minimalist approach to adding beauty and fascination to the Highline and I think he it did well.

My favorite photo that I took on the High Line was that of the My Mom Drinks Pepsi sculpture. I like this photo so much because it resembles a geometric pattern. Math has always been one of my favorite subjects. So, when I saw this sculpture all I could think of was the unique squares and rectangles and shapes within shapes that were formed when coke cans are put together alongside one another. I also enjoyed the simplicity of the sculpture: a series of coke cans placed to form a specific shape. The sculpture reminded me of another sculpture made of soup cans that I saw on my trip to Montreal in the Museum of Contemporary Art.

My favorite photo from the High Line was one that was not of a piece of art. It was this one, overlooking the Hudson River towards Hoboken. I’m a sucker for sunset pictures, and I think city views are beautiful; I am definitely a city girl. Something about this photo that is special to me is that I recognize one of the buildings across the water in Hoboken as the Howe Building at Stevens Institute of Technology, where some of my best friends go to college. I sent them this photo as my view from the other side of the river, and it almost felt like I was watching over them.

Sunset Over the Hudson