A busy week. I feel uncomfortable about not supporting the Green Party candidates but am voting for Biden for obvious reasons. I’m not a fan of the two major parties and was relieved that I can vote Biden/Harris on the Working Families Party Line.( Row D in NYC.)
Adm. William McRaven endorsed Biden.
Adm. McRaven: “I am a pro-life, pro-Second Amendment, small-government, strong-defense and a national-anthem-standing conservative … But, I also believe that black lives matter, that the Dreamers deserve a path to citizenship, that diversity and inclusion are essential to our national success, that education is the great equalizer, that climate change is real.”
I’d like to shake his hand across several aisles.
On to a glorious photo by Molly Heron.
A friend and I went to the Museum of the City of New York. Aside from two other people we were the only guests. Recently, we have also been to other quasi-deserted museums. Imagine being alone with THE blue whale at the American Museum of Natural History.
The Museum of the City of New York photos document the city’s beginnings from 1609 to the present. The museum asks, What makes NYC NYC? The answer: money, diversity, density, creativity. We went from exhibit to exhibit, from the opulent, genteel Stettheimer dollhouse to the Activist New York exhibit that explores racial issues of today.
We went to the Guggenheim on a very wet, chilly Friday. The current exhibit is a long winded account of the effects of city and country life. The exhibits range from banal to almost interesting to amusing. The art is tucked away in the permanent collections. Once you’ve gazed at Pollack’s Muse, looking at wheat production in several countries in the sixties loses its appeal.I think the most beautiful part of the Guggenheim is the building. Would Frank Lloyd Wright be hired today? I doubt it. I give the owners and administrators full marks for repeatedly repairing major structural defects. Its cylindrical shape dominates the east eighties. The ramp that sweeps from the ground floor to the top floor is a stroke of genius.
Micah Bucey writes tiny prayers. I found this prayer solace after learning about the Michigan governor’s narrow escape, our president’s support of right wing vigilante groups and about cars used as weapons against peace rallies.
Today’s Tiny Prayer (for those who fear that their vote won’t count):
May you stay vigilant about voter suppression, outreach, registration, and turnout, but while you wait and worry about the numbers, may you also think of your own vote as a sacred spiritual offering, not simply one tiny piece within a vast system, but a love-filled representation of the vastness of your own heart, a prayerful symbol of your continuing commitment to nudging this country into transformation, a hope-fueled vessel for the change you wish to see in the world, and as you cast your own vision into the sea of visions, may it open you up to an invigorating understanding of just how necessary your participation always is.
To lift our spirits I’m recalling a recent trip to Coney Island. We went on a weekday. I think it was a Friday. Coney Island by C. I. standards was deserted. Rides were shut down, permanently (?) but we managed to eat a hot dog, take a brisk boardwalk walk and then have an enormous lunch at Nargis Cafe. We were three people. One of us isn’t afraid or self -conscious about ordering everything on the menu. We had Spring salad with Feta cheese, home-made white bread, mixed spread platter, potato dumplings, deep-fried beef dumplings, chicken kebab, lamb kebab. For dessert we had assorted Baklava. The food friendly friend ordered take-out for all the food we had just eaten. We then walked down the street to an enormous supermarket filled with cooked food. The foodie bought a few dozen items. Then we went home to Manhattan.
MOMA is my second home. Since childhood I’ve visited art works that have become old friends. Picasso’s Three Musicians, Mondrian’s Broadway Boogie Woogie , the helicopter hanging precariously for many years come to mind. Not to mention the movies or as we say at MOMA the films. This was my first visit since March. Few people, attentive staff and the wonderful, big art work I associate with NYC.
In the afternoon a friend and I went to the Morgan’s jazz from 3 to 5. It’s a casual affair. The BeBimBop Trio played soothing music. People drifted in and out. At the break we went to the David Hockney exhibit. Am I glad we did. Before yesterday I had not appreciated Hockney. That’s changed. His portraits of himself and of friends are revealing. He’s accomplished an enormous amount of work. There’s a video of him leafing through notebook after notebook.