Yankee and Bag, by Hendrik Kerstens, on view at the Museum of the City of New York through September 13, 2009.
Manhattan
Inquilines rebuild Rome in NYC… and raze it… in one day
|In an age in which corrugated cardboard is the material of choice to build temporary housing for goods on their way to consumers, often to be reused by those who lost their way, to build a home, it was used on April 6 and 7th, 2009 A.D., to rebuild old Rome anew within the confines of Mannahatta, island of many hills. The rebuilding of Rome evolved in the second box of the seven that make the New Museum of Contemporary Art on the new Bowery, the foudroyantly new cultural capital of NYC.
Immigrants, and ancestors of immigrants and various diasporas joined hands to reenact old Rome’s architectural development. The builders crammed the time span from Romulus’ and Remus’ days to the destruction of the city, several centuries later, into 24 hours, and half a gallery. Tape, hot glue, various scales and levels of accuracy were applied by Gabriel, Seung, Lisa, Steven, Katherine, Dylan, Matt, Nayeema, Sam, Mariechen, myself, and several others, under the soft-spoken guidance of LA artist Liz Glynn.
Timed to coincide with the opening of the “The Generational: Younger than Jesus” exhibit, a Katrina of self-appointed Visigoths, Christians and pagan Godzillas gleefully razed this recreation in two minutes flat… Gone again were the Forum, the Coliseum, the Temple of Saturn and those dedicated to other gods of Roman lore, and the arches honoring dead emperors as idols. Gone again was old St. Peter.
Gone again… to be rebuilt, again? To be rebuilt elsewhere? Again, by inquilines?
Mofette: Subway grrr id
|Yashmak: Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
|http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Ij5_xl-vs0At this year’s Poetry Walk, Galway Kinnell read Walt Whitman’s Crossing Brooklyn Ferry for the fourteenth time at the Fulton Ferry Landing, the poem that veiled and unveiled Whitman’s sexual orientation. His poem as yashmak—offering those sensitive to his femininity to look in through the slit he widened with his words, a poem he suspected and hoped might find a larger, more open crowd among the men and women generations after him, seeing mast-hemm’d Manhattan and sea-gulls oscillating their bodies much like he did in his time of thick-stemm’d pipes of steamboats. “Stand up, tall masts of Mannahatta!” he says, “Stand up, beautiful hills of Brooklyn! Throb, baffled and curious brain! Throw out questions and answers…”
Bibliomancy: A Little Flip Book About Love and Sex
(and Masturbation)…
The passion of sex has become intertwined within our modern notions of love. Sharing loving moments with another person is the most primal human desire. And SEX is the most intrinsic physical expression of that love.
BUT if you’re home alone on Saturday night, without the tender touch of another, how could you possibly fulfill your desire? Read a book of course!
Each turning page contains a poem of loving tenderness. Skim the pages one at a time OR watch as passion explodes!
As infamous New Yorker Woody Allen says,
“Don’t knock masturbation, it’s sex with someone I love.”
Enjoy!
The Penitent City
|All the hoping and praying
all this city
ever did was
crawl
like a tot to a tit
trying to squeeze milk, milk
and more milk
from her blemished breast.
The harbors’ mother
tarnished to reptilian green
slowly bows to the burden
shows her chameleon skin
and crawls slow
into deeper waters
leaving her pedestal, cloak
and pointed coronet.
Foudroyant – “Rapture” (35mm)
Culminant: Report II Homage to Bruce Conner
|by Brandt Wrightsman
Holus bolus: Encounter with letters and the word, on my way to AlphaBet City
Foudroyant in Manhattan
I went to the Cathedral of St. John the Divine on 110th Street and Amsterdam Avenue in Manhattan. The Cathedral is stunning, but I was more dazzled by the surprising inhabitant of the Cathedral’s gardens. Here is even more evidence of the breathtaking unpredictability and wonder of New York.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqKhMhMw1Bw