I’m hooked! On the music from Rodrigo y Gabriela. They played at Terminal 5 last week, which was the kickoff to their North American tour. Their music touched me so much the first time I heard it that I had tears rolling down my cheeks… they play with such urgency and beauty, as if their lives depended on it.

Simply incredible.

Granted there were only 2, and they were tiny… but still enough to make me giddy

Cross

Saw this on my way to work the other day in the financial district.
Scrap metal or cross?

Mad Men @ Times Sq

Mad Men @ Times Sq.

Mad Men Season 3 Premiere, Time Square, August 16, 2009

Merce Cunningham

A legend in the New York (and international) dance world has just passed away. Although I’m not a big fan of dance (and kind of fell asleep watching documentaries of him and John Cage in my art school years), I’m still saddened by the passing of a genius.

His dance studio, located at Westbeth, happens to be where I first stayed when I moved to New York. Westbeth is a historic building on Bethune Street in the West Village, and it is a housing community for artists and their families. I rented a small space from a writer in her huge loft in 2003. It was quite an experience and firmly established my love for New York.

Westbeth Artist Housing

R.I.P. Merce Cunningham.

I returned to New York to thunderstorms and a downpour, and the first thought that crossed my mind as I emerged from the muggy subway was: I really, really love New York.

Van Gogh and the Colors of the Night

I don’t know about other people, but I have a not-so-secret spot that I go to whenever the bullshit in life drives me crazy. I go and stand in front of Vincent Van Gogh’s classic The Starry Night at MoMA (which is an otherwise boring museum unworthy of the $20 admission fee).

It is always crowded around this painting, of course, but I don’t get distracted. As I stand there each time, I can’t help but see the love and passion van Gogh had for his art and, most importantly, for the world in which he lived… no matter how little the world loved him back.

MoMA had a special exhibit a while back called “Van Gogh and the Colors of Night”. As is the case with anything van Gogh these days, the exhibit was packed. Not only was a separate ticket needed just for the exhibit, timed entrances were required. We got there right when MoMA opened, at 9am, and had to wait until 1 p.m. to be allowed into the exhibit.

Watching the hordes of people of all ages and genders and colors and backgrounds waiting there, I wished that somehow van Gogh could see what I saw.

Vincent, do you know how much you are loved today? Do you know that people call you a genius? Do you know that your paintings are being sold for tens of millions of dollars? Do you know that we line up for hours to admire and appreciate your work? Do you know that you inspired and are still inspiring generations of artists who’ve come after you? Do you know that you are not a failure?

You will never know.

David Byrne's Bike Rack by MoMA

When I first read this Times article about the awesome bike racks installed by crazy genius David Byrne, I swore to myself I’d trek all over town to take a picture of every single one of them.

And then… I got lazy (kind of like what happened with this blog…) hence the one pathetic picture above.

My New Year’s resolution? Capture all of them before they get torn down.

BAM

So… I’m gonna deviate a little bit and talk about my adventure into Brooklyn.

Make no mistake.  I am not a fan of any outer boroughs, even Brooklyn, the most recent darling of hipsters and artists and anybody who tries to be cool.  There are only a few things/events/people that can make me willingly leave the comfort of Manhattan.  BAM is one of them.  Or more specifically, the shows they offer.

The Brooklyn Academy of Music is a century-old mecca for dancers, actors, and artists.  Numerous prestigious names in the world of art, dance, and music have graced the theaters and stages there.  We went out to Brooklyn last week for Pina Bausch’s latest, “Bamboo Blues”.  It was a great show, supposedly, but I wouldn’t really know because the cheap seats we got put us high up on the balcony and right behind a column of some sort.  I should’ve known when I bought the tickets for $25 a piece.  And right when I was about to photograph (and use as irrefutable evidence) the atrocity that was our seats, an usher came rushing toward me and told me that pictures weren’t allowed.

So.. I got one picture.  That of the outside.  Oh and another one of a cool door on a building across from BAM.

door across from bam

Guggenheim

The ‘renovated’ Guggenheim was an ‘interesting’ experience.  I wasn’t impressed by much of the stuff they had.  What caught my eye were phrases that were carefully crafted and placed along the winding walls of the museum.

I SWEAR I had a similar thing going on in my first apartment over in the West Village.  I only had one phrase, the content of which is neither important nor still part of my shaky memory… but it was the same idea for sure.

Which leads me to wonder… what the fuck is art?  And why should we care?

Words on the wall or whatev