The mornings are all of a sudden freezing, the trees are gilded and beginning to strip bare and I’m reminded of my trip to New York City in November 2008. It was my first time in that city and I was awed by it. It was so loud, dirty and obnoxious, yet it felt so elegant under it’s grey skies and cold rain, illuminated by yellow leaves and green mold.
It was an art trip for my college, and I wasn’t an art student, but I did spend some time marveling at ancient Greek statuary and the amazing colors of Marc Chagall. I wrote a blog post about it, and this poem.
Visiting New York in November
November New York,
Black in the fog,
Slides from the reeds
And the granite palisades.
Suddenly loud upon us,
Queens envelops the bus
And we are horn-hailed
By a thousand voices.
The shops and their vinyl signs
Surprise me;
So many with so little to offer.
Island lanes drowning
In magazines and candy.
New York is all that I heard:
Granite wetted black dignifies
Late mosses and Thanksgiving leaves
Covering Central Park.
Inverting reservoir reflects,
Creates a silent soundtrack of scrapers.
The dragon and the bears
Stare on the fragile dripping
Gold-leafed trees,
And a turkey traipses
The cold green lawn.
Ancient Grecian armory, statuary
Stares back to feudal days.
These halls are loud with modern footfall
And soft with Egyptian ghost.
MoMA confuses, taunts sensibility,
Flaunts post-post modernity.
Chagall animises promises,
His smiling bulls and flying candles
Enchant a silent hall
under a deluge
Of Winter rain
Times Square is crowded
Even in drenching rain,
Soaked through with
Neon and LEDs, reflecting
Off the wet cement.
We pose in the glow,
This center of commercial,
Then we go.
I also made a video, based on some random footage I captured on the trip.
Two years ago I visited New York City in the Autumn again, this time for an exhausting photography trade show. I didn’t spend much time outside, but it felt the same as in 2008–loud and elegant and cold and beautiful as ever.
