Another trip

San Francisco wasn’t enough for me. I stayed home long enough to do my laundry, look at the mail and get a haircut. Yesterday morning I boarded the train for New York. It’s a long trip, longer than driving, much longer than flying, assuming the flight is uneventful. The great part is that you leave and arrive in the middle of the city. I had a good book, some of the scenery is interesting and I could get up and walk around.

Renee is leaving for Spain on Saturday, so I get to stay here and watch the apartment until May 27. I’ve contacted most of my friends and made arrangements to see them, and I never get enough of the museums. Also, just found out there will be a show of Henry Moore sculpture at the botanic garden beginning on my birthday–a great present.

I’ve already been out for a walk and some shopping. One of the interesting things about New York is that things leave and new things take their place. There is now an eyebrow threading store on Second Ave. Look for that to be the next big thing–after you have your nails decorated you can go down the street and have your eyebrows threaded. In my mind, needle always goes with thread so I find the idea of threading my eyebrows disturbing, to say the least.

Pictures from New York

From the family seder:
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Steve (right) and brother, Michael

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Steve and Charna

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Seder table, celebrating spring

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Michael couldn’t wait to eat

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The Pope’s motorcade going up to Yonkers for a rally. I’ve never seen the FDR empty like that, although Renee says it happens fairly often for dignitaries coming into the city.

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Rooftops from Renee’s window. There is a woman sunbathing on the dark roof on the left.

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Fashion statement: one way to keep track of the kids.

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There seemed to be an epidemic of these prison stripes.

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The Japanese garden at the botanic garden in Brooklyn

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Tortoise rocks in the garden

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One of the wonderful cherry trees. Everything was blooming.

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Yellow magnolia. Amazing tree
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Last post from New York

Tomorrow morning I board the train for Pittsburgh. If it’s not as bad as the last time I rode Amtrak 2-1/2 years ago, I might even do it again.

I wouldn’t want you to think I spent five days in New York without going to an art exhibit, my entertainment of choice. On Sunday, before I went to New Jersey for the seder, Renee and I went to the Asia Society where we saw wonderful Japanese prints. Yesterday we went to the Met and saw the Courbet. He was the penultimate avant garde artist of his time, but it’s a little hard to think of him that way. Everything has been so much more avant in recent years, unless you understand what came before, he seems a little dull. I really loved his self portraits, especially the one on the show poster. Maybe I’ll do some of my own: Fat Old Artist with piano, or Fat Old Artist with White Dog. (I don’t know any black ones.)

Today we went to Brooklyn, first to the botanic garden to see the cherry blossoms, magnolias and the wonderful Japanese garden. It was a perfect day, warm, sunny with a great breeze. Renee is a great companion in a garden; she knows so much about plants.

The Brooklyn Museum is next to the garden and was our next stop. The featured exhibit was by Murakami, a contemporary Japanese artist, but the exhibit I liked best was more Japanese prints. I think I can never see enough of them. This exhibit had prints I’ve never seen before–a great treat.

I won’t get home until late tomorrow; the train crawls–for 10-1/2 hours. (It’s only 7 hours driving.) I’ll try to post pictures on Friday.

Passover

We had a great seder last night, and I’m looking forward to another great, but longer, one tonight. Steve did the honors, making sure everyone participated; we got through most of the Haggadah, learned some things, had a few laughs. Pictures when I get home.

This was nothing like the seders of my childhood. They were always somber and more than a little agonizing. Truth to tell, everything about Judaism was like that when I was a child. Between the war (WWII), antisemitism and my father’s paranoia about antisemitism, it was not a fun scene. My grandmother, who lived with us, sat at the head of the table, usurping my father’s place, although I never heard him complain. She and my father would race through the readings in the Haggadah, entirely in Hebrew or Aramaic, their Austrian accents making them sound like they had stones in their mouths. I would follow, reading the English translation, which was stilted and not altogether intelligible to me.

My mother, whose only interest was cooking would sit there asking when she could start serving the food. There is a lot of reading and discussion before you get to eat.

The Haggadah, in addition to praising God, is primarily a discussion about how to tell the story of the Exodus from Egypt. In fact, the Exodus plays only a small part in the story, the recounting of the ten plagues and the parting of the Red Sea. It is almost as though everyone knew the story so well they didn’t have to repeat it in the Haggadah. Moses and Aaron get short shrift, as does Joseph and how the Israelites got to Egypt.

Unlike my childhood seders, in which I had almost no part except to sit quietly and behave, Steve had all of us reading, mostly in English, and discussing what was written, what was omitted, and what it means for us today. Good job. We had a great dinner; Renee’s matzoh balls are easily as good as my mother’s; we finished reading and singing the songs about 10 pm and had time to visit for a while.

All of this was punctuated by the sirens from the Pope’s motorcade as he went up the FDR to a youth rally in Yonkers and returned to Manhattan. I have some pictures of that, also.

Photos from New York

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View from a window at MOMA

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Bergdorf Goodman windows. I love all the reflections.

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Fifth Avenue street musician, getting wonderful sounds from old household objects.

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Joshua Nelson performing kosher gospel music.

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A member of the choir. There was no way I could do justice to her with a still photo.

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Looking west on Canal Street. Chinese Christmas.

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Origami Christmas tree at the Natural History Museum.

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Rockefeller Center, about 4 pm.

African Americans in art

Yesterday I went to a Kwanzaa celebration at the Natural History Museum with two quilting friends. We didn’t stay for much of the celebration–too crowded–but we checked out the vendors. I bought a great jacket with an African patterned woven cotton. Also took pictures of the museum’s Origami tree; I’ll post them next week.

Today Renee and I went to the Whitney where we first looked at the Jacob Lawrence Migration Series exhibit that included only a small number of his paintings. I would have liked to see the entire series in one place. Unfortunately half of them are owned by MOMA. The paintings on display were a powerful statement about the movement of African Americans from Southern to Northern states between the two  world wars.

Equally powerful, and much more dismaying, was the work of Kara Walker. While I agree with the New York Times review: "Brilliant is the word for it, and the brilliance grows over the survey’s decade-plus span," I know that Ms Walker has caused much controversy within the black community. I do not care to make judgments, but as I walked through the exhibit the thought struck me: much as I hate it, I was grateful that the stereotype of Jews as rich, smart and running the world, at least gives us who are nearer the poverty line something positive to aspire to, and few endemic cultural excuses for our failures.

Family, Art and More Family

My days here in NYC are going very quickly. On Thursday, Renee and I took the train out to Long Island to visit her other son and family. It’s a 60 mile trip and took 2 hours, each way. The Japanese must laugh hysterically every time they hear something like this. We had a lovely, too short visit. Train schedule was not very accommodating for us.

Yesterday I met Phyllis at the Rubin Museum. I really love that place, at the same time it makes me very angry. It’s a beautiful space, so wonderfully designed you feel like you are entering a temple of peace and beauty. Here is a story about the museum and how it was built. If you read it carefully, you will note one line, "…Donald and Shelly built their managed-health-care network, Multiplan…" I am angry about anyone who makes enough money on healthcare to build a huge art collection and then build a museum to use as a tax write-off, thereby screwing us, the public, all over again.

Even with my anger, I managed to enjoy the museum and the art. My all-time favorite piece is a huge applique you can see here. Phyllis, who has been a photographer most of her life, took me there to see photographs of Bhutan by Kenro Izu. Most of the photos were platinum/palladium contact prints made from huge negatives, taken with a custom made camera that weighs 300 pounds. Story about the exhibit here.

After this soulful sojourn at the Rubin I met up with Renee and we went to dinner with her brother and sister-in-law, so more family and lots of laughs. Renee and her family treat me like I belong to them. Having moved to the east coast with no family here except Robin, I have always been very moved by their efforts to include me in all of their events. I am truly grateful to be so accepted and loved by my daughter’s in-laws.


Art, more art, and a bit of shopping

Today was back-to-the-Met day. When I was here over Thanksgiving I never got to see "The Age of Rembrandt," which it turns out, is only incidentally about Rembrandt. It’s really about the collectors who contributed to and built the Met. I found myself getting more than a little bored with the Dutch painters of Rembrandt’s era, but developed a new appreciation for Franz Hals and Jan Steen. Information on the Hals painting said "indecent lovemaking and smoking were both bad for the soul, but only the latter was bad for the body." Steen was similarly lively.

More to my taste was "Bridging East and West," in the Chinese galleries. This show was also about collectors and their contributions to the museum, but the art was more to my taste.

After lunch in their cafeteria, which is quite good, I spent some time drooling over books in the museum shop, then took the bus down to 53rd St. and the American Museum of Folk Art, another lovely place overlooked by the tourists, thankfully. The exhibit,GILDED LIONS AND JEWELED HORSES: THE SYNAGOGUE TO THE CAROUSEL, had some lovely wood carvings and even more interesting papercuts.

Sated with art I went over to Rockefeller Center to go shopping at Kinokuniya, only to find they were closing that store and had moved across from Bryant Park. I got an interesting book on Japanese quilting at 50% off, then went over to the new store. Beautiful place with lots of wonderful Japanese art books. I resisted the temptation to buy still another one; I’m trying not to collect more books, ha ha.

From there it was only another block or two to visit the bead and trimming stores on Ave. of the Americas, but did not find anything I wanted. Finally, exhausted, I went to meet Renee and we had dinner in a Japanese restaurant.

What do Jews do on Christmas Day

Last year I was here in New York and Renee and I went on a "noshing" tour. We ate our way through three synagogues and a performance space. This year, with both of us trying not to eat so much junk food, we opted for theater. First we went to a kosher gospel concert by Joshua Nelson at the Museum of Jewish Heritage, a blend of Hebrew words, prayers and psalms with gospel and roots music. It was a rousing hour and a half.

From there we taxied to Chinatown and looked for a place to eat, along with many other Jews and Chinese. We finally found a place that didn’t have a line going out the door. Not a great lunch, but OK.

We walked around Chinatown killing time. Our next event was not until 6:30. It was a beautiful day, sunny and not too cold. Nice walking weather. Finally took the subway uptown. With more time to kill we had coffee in a Subway (sandwich shop) and people watched for half an hour–always good in New York.

The play we went to–another Jewish theme–was called Dai, Hebrew for enough. It was a one-woman show by Iris Bahr who portrayed a number of Israeli and Arab characters and their reactions to the current political situation in the middle east. She changed her persona as easily as changing her shirt. Some of it was funny, all of it tragic. Each skit was punctuated by a bomb blast and realistic sounds from after such an attack, giving the audience (me) a taste of what it must be like to live in Israel, never knowing when the next bomb was coming. It gave me a lot to think about–I’m still feeling a little shattered.

Christmas eve in New York

Renee and I spent the day viewing art. This evening we’re staying in to watch for Santa Claus. We ought to be able to see him from her living room windows if we can remain awake that late.

We went to the Museum of Modern Art to see the Seurat drawings, which have been highly praised. After walking through several other exhibits we went to lunch at a little Korean restaurant on 56th St. Yesterday Renee was talking about a place called Soft Tofu, in Fort Lee near my old apartment. It was a cute place with a limited menu: soft tofu in very hot soup with mushrooms, or seafood, or plain, and could be had very spicy, medium spicy or mild. The Korean place on 56th had soft tofu soup, making Renee very happy. I had a soup made with Kim Chee, tofu and some meat. I never thought about cooking Kim Chee. It was good.

We went back to 53rd St. to the Museum of Art and Design, where we saw an interesting exhibit of "extreme embroidery." That’s one of my favorite museums in New York. They almost always have something I enjoy.

We concluded our day walking down to Bergdorf Goodman to look at the windows. I took lots of pictures but can’t post them until I get back to Pittsburgh.

Happy holidays to all.