36 Hours NYC
I've been quiet for the last couple days because I was in New York City this week.
I flew in on Wednesday. I stayed at the Helmsley Hotel, which someone reminded me is famous due to its owner's obsession with pillows and her tax evasion. The hotel had a faded 80s vibe to it, with surly staff and excruciatingly slow internet access, but otherwise was nice. (Here's why I say the staff was surly. I got in at 11 o'clock at night, and I was very hungry, having flown JetBlue and, therefore, having eaten only cookies and chips for the last six hours. I called room service right before their 11:15 pm cut-off, and they acted like I was asking for a trip to the moon when I asked for a hamburger.)
On Thursday morning, I walked up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I later found out that I was two days early for the major opening of their new Greek and Roman galleries, but, oblivious to what I was missing, I had a lot of fun looking at a bunch of European art mainly from the sixteenth through eighteenth centuries. Being a regular reader of Reformation Letters, I spent a long time in the Cranach and Dürer room, and I was also glad to see a number of pictures by my old favorites, Guido Reni and Murillo. But I was most fascinated by this portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence:
It's a portrait of a famous Irish actress who later became a duchess, I believe. When I looked closely at the painting, I saw the sheen of her dress was created by heavy applications of white paint. When I stepped back, the thick paint transformed into an amazing evocation of the shimmering folds of satin. After spending a couple minutes in the British rooms, I discovered myself rushing through a bunch of Flemish and Venetian painters. I ascribed my hurry to a dislike for their style (I was telling myself that the Flemish painters were too quotidian, and that the Venetians spent too much time filling up gigantic canvases), but it might have just been that I was hungry.
As I walked back to the hotel, I began to think that I wouldn't mind living in a pre-war apartment building on the Upper East Side, although my dog and my pocketbook might complain.
When I got back to the hotel, I tried to get some work done, but I was stymied by the lame internet access. Then it was time to go to the event that was the cause for my trip to New York. It was on the Chelsea Piers, and I got to shake Bobby Kennedy Jr's hand and see a very up close performance by Lenny Kravitz.
On the flight home the next morning, I read a good portion of "The Omnivore's Dilemma," which has inspired me to sign up to get weekly Community Supported Agriculture baskets.
I flew in on Wednesday. I stayed at the Helmsley Hotel, which someone reminded me is famous due to its owner's obsession with pillows and her tax evasion. The hotel had a faded 80s vibe to it, with surly staff and excruciatingly slow internet access, but otherwise was nice. (Here's why I say the staff was surly. I got in at 11 o'clock at night, and I was very hungry, having flown JetBlue and, therefore, having eaten only cookies and chips for the last six hours. I called room service right before their 11:15 pm cut-off, and they acted like I was asking for a trip to the moon when I asked for a hamburger.)
On Thursday morning, I walked up to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I later found out that I was two days early for the major opening of their new Greek and Roman galleries, but, oblivious to what I was missing, I had a lot of fun looking at a bunch of European art mainly from the sixteenth through eighteenth centuries. Being a regular reader of Reformation Letters, I spent a long time in the Cranach and Dürer room, and I was also glad to see a number of pictures by my old favorites, Guido Reni and Murillo. But I was most fascinated by this portrait by Sir Thomas Lawrence:
It's a portrait of a famous Irish actress who later became a duchess, I believe. When I looked closely at the painting, I saw the sheen of her dress was created by heavy applications of white paint. When I stepped back, the thick paint transformed into an amazing evocation of the shimmering folds of satin. After spending a couple minutes in the British rooms, I discovered myself rushing through a bunch of Flemish and Venetian painters. I ascribed my hurry to a dislike for their style (I was telling myself that the Flemish painters were too quotidian, and that the Venetians spent too much time filling up gigantic canvases), but it might have just been that I was hungry.
As I walked back to the hotel, I began to think that I wouldn't mind living in a pre-war apartment building on the Upper East Side, although my dog and my pocketbook might complain.
When I got back to the hotel, I tried to get some work done, but I was stymied by the lame internet access. Then it was time to go to the event that was the cause for my trip to New York. It was on the Chelsea Piers, and I got to shake Bobby Kennedy Jr's hand and see a very up close performance by Lenny Kravitz.
On the flight home the next morning, I read a good portion of "The Omnivore's Dilemma," which has inspired me to sign up to get weekly Community Supported Agriculture baskets.
Comments
Post a Comment