Still working on the book

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I'm really a big picture person. I always grasp the overall ideas easily, letting the details float around in the air, often not finishing whatever I had started. So the idea of a tunnel book was no problem. The reality has become a huge challenge and I'm cursing all the way, but determined to do it. 

I began this fourth iteration by printing out all of the pieces, I thought.There are seven finished pages comprised of twenty separate pieces glued together. (I'll explain with pictures when I've finished the book.) Six sides have 24 separate pieces. My caveat when I said 'I thought' I had printed everything out was because I went back afterward and decided to change the last two sides. This is after figuring it all out (?) on the computer.

I drew a little diagram making decisions about how the pieces will be glued together and started to mark the pieces, but never finished because that was more detail than I could handle. Each of the 44 pieces, 6×9 or 6×6, had to be trimmed from the 8.5 x 11 card stock, maintaining tabs on the outer side pieces. Fortunately I have a new paper cutter; the old guillotine style would have been impossible, but even so, it took me most of a day. I try to do most of this in the morning; by evening I know I'll screw up.

In spite of my aching hands and tired legs (I prefer standing when I do this), I enjoyed the cutting. It made me think of my childhood when I loved cutout books. I never played with dolls, but I liked cutting out the dolls and clothes. I thought my inner child was dead, but maybe it was only comatose.

This morning I started glueing and am now taking a break while I wait for the glue to dry. I'll finish this story tomorrow or Saturday. That's as many details as I can handle in one post and it's lunch time.

In denial again

this time about not moving. Before I left for New York, thinking I was going to move momentarily, I had packed lots of boxes and thrown out lots of stuff, so generally things were pretty disorganized. I couldn't face the boxes after I signed the new lease, as compensation I started working on version two of that tunnel book. I returned from New York and continued ignoring the boxes.

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So, this is version two and I'm still not happy. Version three is in the works and the boxes remain in denial.

Version two has a 6×9 inch page considerably larger than the 5×7 of the first one. Also, I have made the accordion sides much larger, even larger in version three. Each revision takes me further from the reality and more into my imagination or to better solutions to the book construction problems, which is where I want to be.

Maybe I'll move boxes over the weekend.

Five days in Pittsburgh

and I'm still thinking about New York.  I have several things to show and tell. First, when I went to the street fair in the village I emerged from the subway to see this.

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The street was closed to autos and open to bicycles and walkers. There is an event called Saturday Streets and many streets throughout Manhattan are closed. Street fairs also close long stretches of streets. The auto is not king and that is one of the things that most endears Manhattan to me.

Later in the afternoon, after failing to get a ticket to War Horse, I was walking through Columbus Circle and saw a young woman in full ballet costume walking in front of me. She climbed onto the statue in the center of the Circle and took this pose.

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Then she was helped down by a waiting young man and danced with him (he didn't really dance) all around the area.

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You just never know what will happen right in front of you.

Here are a few more pictures from the HighLine.

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Farewell New York City, for the moment

I'm sitting on the train going back to Pittsburgh and wishing Shalmit was here with me again to help pass the time. Yesterday was my last full day in NY. I spent the morning tidying the apartment. I don't want to say cleaning because I didn't do much of that, except for the kitchen and bathroom. Also did a load of laundry so I could leave clean linen on the bed.

I met Mary about 2 and we took the subway down to Chinatown where she got her hair cut. It was interesting watching all the goings on in the salon. And it cost half of what I usually pay. If I got to NY more often I might consider changing hairdressers, but I'm not sure they would know what to do with curly hair.

We wandered around the area stopping to eat rice pudding in a place that sold it in about 20 different flavors. I tried several before I finally settled on almond (but no nuts in it). Visited the Museum of the Chinese in America and a shop with wine and other products from Chile; walked through Prada (amazed that they let me in) and finally went to Eataly where Mary had never been and where I wanted to return to get another walnut bread. After a long bus ride up Madison we had dinner near the apartment, of course, chattering all the way. It was a lovely day, a charming finish to my trip. 

 

A Going back day

The deliciously cool morning inspired me to walk back to the Jewish Museum to see some things I had missed because we went on a Saturday the first time. There is a wonderful, interactive, computer created tour of the two apartments of the Cone sisters. The tour was created from 37 photos taken within the apartments before the paintings and other collections were given to the Baltimore Art Museum. I was fascinated both by the look of the apartments, much classier and well organized than I expected, and by some of the strange views generated by the computer process. Although I watched for a long time I was never sure I had seen all of it. I tried some of the interactive features: a touch screen and the possibility of asking questions, but mostly I just let it run and watched it.

I went back to the Center for Book Arts, where I had taken Phyllis yesterday. They had a tunnel book in their exhibit and I needed to look at it again. You can see it here, but the picture doesn't really let you see the tunnel part of it or understand how it was constructed. In the exhibit it sat on the light box allowing the depth of the piece and more of what was going on inside to be seen clearly. The two wings fold in toward the proscenium arch; there are at least three layers of images behind the arch, and the enire thing folds up into a bound book. Very inspiring; I was glad I returned to it.

By the way, I found it much easier to walk around today with the cooler weather and probably covered more than 2 miles on foot.

Yesterday, after our visit to the Center for Book Arts, Phyllis and I went to Eataly, an enormous, expensive, Italian-focused, touristy food market/restaurant where I was able to get a walnut, whole wheat bread. Most of the time walnut breads contain raisins or dried cranberries. Every time I find a new bakery I look for walnut breads–only walnuts, no raisins or cranberries. I first discovered this in France, subsequently found it in Montreal, and a small restaurant in Eagle, Wisconsin, long gone, and, of course, other parts of Europe. It was lovely to find it here. I may go back tomorrow to get another one to take home with me.

Rainy Sunday

I woke up to a gray, rainy morning and thought about spending the day in bed. That got boring pretty quick so as the rain lessened I got dressed and went out, had lunch and went over to the West Side to see another documentary; this time about Sholem Aleichem–good, but not the most interesting thing I've ever seen. Too many talking heads, but I suppose there's not much else that could be done.

After the film I walked over to Whole Foods in Columbus Circle for some dinner and some nosh to bring to my next stop. Then on to the subway the GW Bridge, and New Jersey, my old stomping grounds. Ellen had a Stitch and Bitch for me so I could see many of my old friends. We did this every Sunday night for years so it was great fun to see them again.

Recovering

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At least I haven't been spending so much time in restaurants. Thursday morning Mary and I went out to the botanic garden in the Bronx. The well-advertised exhibit wasn't so spectacular, but the Poet's Walk and the lily pond were spectacular. Here is a photo of someone doing a tricky bit of photography. Just imagine if the camera dropped into the water.

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I don't know if the other photographer found it as amusing as I did.

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We had lunch at the garden, but most of our visiting was done walking around–my doctor would approve.

Dinner was a long visit with Jean at another restaurant, but I've been sticking to salads.

Friday was a real walking day. Phyllis and I went up on the High Line. This is a real winner. The city converted an old railroad track into a long, skinny park. It's a great place: you can see into back yards, roof gardens and other usually hidden places.

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Here the tracks remain, but the ties are covered with something that makes for easy walking.

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The path rose above the tracks, visible below, and everything is landscaped beautifully.

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This time we had a large, late lunch. After I got back to the apartment, worn out, I had a very small dinner alone. 

No dates today so I went down to Union Square by myself. I was going to go out to Brooklyn to a Saturday event called a Smorgasburg–more food–but opted instead for a street fair in the village. Bought more earrings, and a Mozzarepa for lunch; wandered through the green market in Union Square then over to Lincoln Center, hoping to get a ticket for War Horse. No luck. Looked at quilts at the folk art museum, walked over to Lee's Art Supply to check for more paper; finally got a bus and I'm vegging out at the apartment. 

I'm worried: if I can't get through three weeks in NY, how will I do six weeks in Japan next year. Maybe it's the heat.

Movable Feasts

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You have to look at this picture very carefully to see why it stopped me. Look near the black shoes.

Maintaining friendships involves sitting at a table and talking and eating. The last two days have been an intense round of visits with old friends, usually sitting over coffee or something else I shouldn't have. Tuesday morning I met J in the art books at the Strand, which is so large we had to specify a section. From there, talking all the time, we went to a small Israeli restaurant where we sipped fresh squeezed orange juice until the lunchtime crowd came in and needed our seats. We went across the street to the less crowded Au Bon Pain and sat for another hour or two over coffee and soup. I usually eat, but wasn't hungry then. Finally J walked back to the Strand with me so I could continue looking at books and we said goodby.

I managed to get out with only one book and went up to meet another J, Julia, at the Whole Foods at Columbus Circle, starving by this time. Julia got a table while I bought food. We kept that one from four until six thirty, buying a little more as the spirit moved us. Finally I couldn't sit anymore and we walked over to Lincoln Center where we hung out again, until it was time for our eight o'clock concert. It was interesting to see the musicians so casually dressed for the rehearsal now looking very formal and dignified. This was an all Mozart program with the Jupiter Symphony and two choral pieces. Very nice.

Wednesday I met Sybille back at the Film Forum for another documentary; this time about Anselm Kiefer. Many years ago I was awestruck by a large Kiefer painting, Ordnung das Engels, at the Art Institute of Chicago. (It doesn't seem to be there any more.) Since then I have sought out his work wherever I could find it, but nothing had the power of that first experience. The film didn't either. Exhausted by the over long film, and hungry, we went looking for something decadent for lunch. We found Rocco's cheesecake first, but decided it was too decadent for starters so we walked across the street to Amy's Bread, where we had soup and some amazing seeded rolls. Then we went back to Rocco's for the Italian cheesecake, which is not as decadent (read cream cheese) as their American version. Of course, more talk and more coffee.

I returned to the apartment just in time to sit down for 10 minutes, then off to another restaurant to meet C and her niece: lots more talk, salad, no coffee. Two great days.

Sunday, Monday

I said goodby to Renee, who should be in Ireland by now, and  went down to Chinatown to a Chinese festival in Columbus Park. I expected lots of vendors, like a typical NY street fair, but I guess the entrenched vendors didn't want competition, so there was lots of gambling and game playing, cards and checkers but no mah jong, and a charming small orchestra, the Street Classical Music Ensemble. I thought I was videoing them, but can't seem to play it here. You may get to see it when I return to a higher level of technology. 

I walked from Chinatown to Soho to the Film Forum and saw a documentary about El Bulli, the famous Spanish restaurant. I had heard many wonderful things about it, but after watching the film I realized I would have hated it, even if I could have afforded to go there. I love to eat, and I love trying all kinds of different foods, but this restaurant was more interested in providing emotion and excitement, not so much food. It was described as avant garde. I think avant garde food would trouble me even more than avant garde art. 

This morning I went to the tip of Manhattan and walked first to the World Trade Center site. Here is what I saw–reflected in the windows of the hotel across the street.

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Then actually focused on the site.
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Continuing down Broadway I went into Century 21 and bought a set of three pairs of earrings for $10. I forgot to bring some with me and felt naked all week. Then I found a block full of food trucks and got a wonderful falafel sandwich, which I ate in a little park. Then I went to one of my favorite museums in Manhattan: the American Indian Museum at the Custom House. They have a great exhibit called "The Infinity of Nations"–a survey of the wonderful art produced by the indigenous peoples of the Americas. I enjoyed seeing it, but it seems to me there is great irony in producing an exhibition lauding the cultures and civilizations we have so completely destroyed.

Me and Claribel and Gertrude and Etta

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Yesterday was Jewish Museum day to see a wonderful exhibit about the Cone Sisters of Baltimore and work from their collection of Matisse, Picasso and other modern artists. I was as much impressed with the sisters as I was with the art. Claribel Cone, born in 1864, became a doctor, Etta, her younger sister, was probably a lover of Gertrude Stein, before Alice came on the scene. A timeline about the family is here along with lots of information and photos of the pictures–a treasure on line.

At the invitation of the museum we took pictures of ourselves with Gertrude and the sisters. Mine is above, Renee is below.

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