An unusual New York City sight: empty streets as Spring breaks. Unfurling my legs– down the steps and to the sidewalk, they lead, familiar with the paths of isolated walks and socially distanced strolls.
Past the empty schoolyard, I pause under a cherry blossom tree. It reaches its arms up to the sky, basking in the sun’s midday rays. Its petals fall to the ground. Its cycle is constant.
A mystic fog seeps into the skeletons of trees. The sound of the ocean reveals the beach is only a few paces away. I imagine sand under my toes, but stand strong on squishy mud. Yellowy-green grass-weeds come to life in the mist, unfolding before me in an endless path to eternity. An empty lot inspires growth. A flock flies overhead. I would like to see as they do, though my view is not so bad.
In homage to the poem of Lawrence Ferlenghetti …. From the first moment that I heard about the imminent closing of Brooklyn’s Coney Island, I knew that this dinosaur of amusement parks would have to become a part of our artistic exploration of New York City. With my husband, filmmaker Mark Street, I take my two daughters for an evening of old-fashioned spinning, twisting and topsy-turvy merry-making Coney Island style. With the notion of capturing a foudroyant sensation with my camera, I point my lens at the explosive visual activity happening around me. I think about the desire we all have to share in this other-worldly, anti-gravity sense of being absolutely out of control.
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