Below and Beneath

A few glimpses of the chasms beneath our sidewalks and beneath our feet. First the brightly lit, oddly warm and inviting room beneath this sewer drain. It was cold and dusky and I think this was under 5th Avenue as I walked home from work a few weeks ago. The golden light is so much like the one that glows from the Gap or J. Crew right there.


On the other hand this enormous open pit on a platform at Broadway/Lafeyette was pretty scary even though it was tightly locked up in its big blue box. Some kinds of holes feel like their emptyness is going to jump up and grab you.

And of course I always notice the Subway grates from above. Especially if there's a beautiful blue puddle inside.

But this was the first time I'd noticed the blue sky shining down from above the sidewalk grates. So beautiful -- though a little uncanny -- seeing the outside so flimsily separated from the underground.

The things you see in Chelsea

Over the course of two relatively recent visits, some highlights:
Reflecting pools under subway gratings.
Tiny mushrooms growing out of a tree on 22nd Street. (Lovely to see, but probably bad news for the tree.)
Some lovely Robert Morris felt pieces at Sonnabend, and some lovely ladies looking at a Joan Mitchell painting.












I've never felt much for Joan Mitchell -- all those later American abstraction heroes kind of blend together for me the same way classic rock radio filler does. I would never seek them out the same way I would never intentionally listen to Steve Miller Band. But this visit to Cheim and Reid I rather liked these paintings. Maybe it was the two ladies sharing the gallery with me. Maybe it was because I've been thinking about paintings of plants. Maybe it was just the way suddenly you hear Tiny Dancer on a car radio and find yourself singing along so happy to hear it again. And you know every word.

Or maybe Joan Mitchell is just like Aerosmith, who I do truly adore.