Lately, I really don't know what to do with myself. I'm trying to keep busy, and keep my mind engaged, but it's hard when you're prone to daydreaming like me. And today was a great day for daydreaming. The weather was perfect. After a soft morning rain, the sun came out and was warm. I went for a walk around the west side, just to explore, in between classes, and was charmed by all the flower shops (one was selling cotton blossoms!) and cute restaurants. It didn't feel like New York--I kind of felt like I was just in any suburban neighborhood, kind of. At the post office I actually bumped into someone I knew, which added to the whole down home feeling.
My afternoon class was held at the New York Historical Society, where they are having an exhibition of artifacts from the 9/11 tragedy. As I stood in the lobby contemplating a section of airplane that was part so much destruction, I realized how insignificant my own little problems are. I guess I need to be reminded that there are people out there who have suffered more than me.
The Historic Society has a wonderful gallery full of Hudson River School painters, which include Thomas Cole, Asher Durand, and Thomas Moran, among others. They are called a "school" but that is just a term that has been applied to them by art historians. They didn't really study formally anywhere, or even together, but their work is considered the first major American contribution to the art world. Cole was the first, and he followed the Europeans Salvator Rosa, Claude Lorraine, and Constable, in depictions of the American landscape. While Europeans painted scenes that highlighted their classical past, or iconic landmarks, Americans went in a new direction. Not having classical ruins or any national traditions to depict, American landscape painters focused on the vast wilderness that was America in the early 19th century.
The American landscape took on moral and religious connotations as these artists sought to imbue it with symbolic meaning. Vast panoramic views of mountains, waterfalls, gorges, and plains dwarfed humans. Storm-blasted trees were constant reminders of the power of God, while the views themselves were evidence of the taming of the wilderness by industrialization and tourism. Native Americans were portrayed as living in harmony with nature, but dwindling because of their savage heathenism.
The story of America's expansion, and America's idyllic view of itself, is documented by these landscape artists, who were acclaimed for their craft, before falling out of favor when Impressionism came along in the 1870s. I had a teacher in college who was obsessed with the Hudson River School painters and made each of us students copy one of their works in our oil painting class. That taught me a lot about their technical skill, but I think their biggest talent is evident in the drama and beauty their paintings capture. I've pictured one of my favorites, and an appropriate illustration for my current state of mind: Twilight in the Wilderness by Frederic Church.
After class, I wandered around Harlem. I gave my sandwich to a homeless man (I wonder when my appetite will return? I've never felt this way in my life...) and I went into all the stores, most of which sell really hip, borderline trashy, urban clothing, that's all about flash. I love 125th street because there is such a unique community there. The people seem to spill out from the busy vibrant shops, and there are tables on the sidewalks, all the time, where people sell things from T-shirts to movies to body butter. Church groups hand out fliers, and passersby are encouraged to dance along to the music blaring from a boombox playing Marvin Gaye. Food vendors abound, and the smells are delicious, even as the gutters are full of litter and sludge from the recent rain. And its like this every day!
It's a great place to go if you're a girl like me, feeling down about herself. About a dozen guys whistled at me, I got two "Hey Beautiful"s from random strangers, and a "How was your day, lady?" from a guy selling shirts. I just smile at them all and it makes me feel a little better.
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