Ivy and the Manhattan skyline from the roof of the Met
There was a lot to see on the bike ride to Rockaway.
Brooklyn rooftops
Free shower in Williamsburg today
Surrounded by water, fog and silence in the Hamptons.
Badass bicycle creation on Bleecker Street
Blue on blue
Chinatown love. everyday.
Pink on pink
Oh Happy Day
This is what an art opening looks like. James Fuentes Gallery
Happy Puerto Rico Day!
walkin' that high line
fishie, fishie
Zurcher Gallery; white on not-white
A Subtelty
Ivy really does it for me
Bushwick is chock full of tortilla factories. This one is the best dressed.
I wasn't lying.
Best boat on the pond
Bushwick. Art everywhere.
Fort Tilden
Once in a lifetime
Bushwick
Tribeca sculpture
Journal Gallery, Williamsburg
What makes this even better is that "Wouldn't it Be Nice' was playing in the background
Artists are my rock stars!! Cutie and the Boxer!
My work in "Identity" show in Brooklyn.
Storm King
Nuff said
Venus Over Manhattan; white on white
Bushwick
Oscar
Found these hanging on the wall of an abandoned house. So random and poetic.
Tennessee field
Pawel Althamer at New Museum
Walking through clouds
My commute to work looks a lot like this now.
Gorgeous hot pink sunrise. Fifteen minutes later it was white-out.
I do love walking home in the snow. I'm so visually stimulated that I don't even feel the cold.
The snow provides a buffer, a layer of quiet over all of the city's hard edges.
The past year was one of much transition for my family and myself as 5 of the 6 of us ended the year in a completely different place from where it was started. We each let go of what was no longer serving us and stepped boldly into that vacated space. Although it can be intimidating, we all need room to grow and shedding layers not only makes that possible, but almost forces it to occur. Life's beauty comes not only from the ease, but also from the struggle.
Today I went to see the Kusama show at David Zwirner.
There was a long line to get in, and of course it was a 30 degree day that I chose, with brisk wind coming off the Hudson.
I spent 5 seconds of my allotted 45 with my camera in front of me. Those were the only ones that were grounded to my present experience. As soon as I widened my focus to take in what the installation actually was, I got lost. It was not my own repetition that moved me, but that I was so insignificant in the light of it all. The less I saw myself, the more that opened up around me.
I would go again tomorrow if I could. To feel my mind drop and my heart open. Isn't that what all of the yoga and meditation practice and reading and research is about? Three hours is nothing for 45 seconds of tear-streaming bliss. How many hours of my life have I spent trying to learn how to let go of enough to feel the beyond, the larger consciousness that has nothing to do with me and exists whether I am aware of it or not? My problem is that there is still someone knocking on the door, telling me my time is up, asking me to come out... and not only knowing that the knock is coming, but wondering how much longer I have until it comes, why I can't I stay here forever...
My toes have regained feeling and hot tea has warmed me from the inside out, but the buzzing, tingling ecstasy is still with me. And I am grateful.
