The Diary of Queen Mothy |
The Trip to NYC (In the Blizzard...) written @ 5:06 PM on February 25, 2003 So here's the scoop on the rest of my trip: Monday: Left Philadelphia in the worst blizzard I have ever been through in my entire life in the late morning. On a normal day, it would have taken about two hours to get to New York, but since the entire Jersey Turnpike was a fucking snowy wasteland where not even the salt trucks and snow plows were on top of the foodchain, it took us about four to five hours to get past the Lincoln Tunnel. That's nature for you. When we finally reached downtown New York City, it was completely deserted in wake of the storm. It was the creepiest, most eerie feeling being all alone on those streets. I had never seen NYC like that in my life, where not a car, not a soul was out on the streets. No traffic-- nothing except the skyscrapers. My professor, however, being the absolutely insane New Yorker by birth sort of guy that he is, took this as a delightful opportunity to take the oversized 15-passenger NKU van around town to show us the sights and attractions. A couple times on this escapade, a couple of us had to get out of the van to push either the van or the cars following behind us out of 5-foot snow banks. The residents who did venture out on the streets got a kick out of that. We went by the World Trade Center sight, and it was here that I felt the coldest feeling to ever set in on my heart. When you watched the news so many times, you remember the surrounding streets even if you have never been to New York. And let me tell you, with the gaping absence of those buildings, with the familiar and deserted streets, with the snow reminicent of ash falling all around you, it's the creepiest feeling in all the world. Being so close to the World Trade Center, I imagined just what it must have been like to be running, running, running from falling debris. I no longer felt cold because of the weather, that's for sure. Death surrounds that place like it was Hell's own outpost. Our hotel was this decent Travel Inn located in Hell's Kitchen on 42nd Street, a couple of blocks from the center of prostitution and child pornography-- or so my professor cheerily informed us. A bunch of us went to Times Square that evening to see the sights and sounds of the big city. I tried to tell them not to look so much like tourists and get sucked into buying that tourist-y crap because that's bad news, but when you're in NYC, you really can't help it sometimes. Tuesday: I went to The Cloisters, which, in all truth, was the number one reason why I wanted to go on this trip in the first place. Why? Because that's where they have my precious, most beloved and prized Unicorn Tapestries, first woven in the late 1500s, which I have wanted to see ever since I was a little girl. And you know what? They were so beautiful, so detailed, so colorful, so huge and magnificent that tears literally came to my eyes. Here were my Unicorn Tapestries! Here were my favorite works of art for all time. Forget da Vinci, forget Monet and Pissaro, forget Vermeer-- here was one of my purposes in life fulfilled. The group laughed at how my face lit up, and how riveted I was to the tour guide's every word. I can only imagine what light was in my eyes at that very moment. I sat in that hall for hours staring up at my Tapestries. Other people passed by and noticed how transfixed I was. The employees watched how I inspected the detailed stitches close up and how The Tapestries were mounted to the wall. I'm sure they wondered if I had the nerve to steal them (of course I do, but I think they're pretty right where they are). It was, to say the least, a religious pilgrammage in the name of unicorns for me, one of the greatest and most profound moments of my entire life. I said I could have died immediately upon leaving the museum a happy woman and not have cared about anything in all the world-- I saw my Unicorn Tapestries. Suffice to say, the gift shop made a mint off me. That night we went to Chinatown for some good Chinese food. Let me tell you that it's not a good idea to be wandering around, the blatant tourists that we were, at night in Chinatown. This guy approached us and started talking to us. Stupidly, some people answered. He told us where we could find a restaurant that would feed all of us for "two fiddy"-- in fact, he said he would escort us, buy us all food, and then stop down at the liquor store. I said, "Guys, we really need to be going. Like, now." Good thinking, Sam. Wednesday: This was another great rite du passage for my life. I went to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. And let me tell you, that museum is fucking huge. Oh no. Not just "huge." Fucking huge. From Egyptian sarcophagi, to the Temple of Dendur, to European decorative arts, to the sculpture courtyard, to the Tiffany glass collection, to the da Vinci exhibit, to Eastern art, to Impressionism, Rococo, Neoclassicism, Pre-Raphaelites, to the scary 20th Century modern art-- Jesus Christ, it was a lot of fucking art work! So much so that from opening to closing, I did not get through the entire museum. Let me tell you, though, how incredibly beautiful every was. Even the modern art that I can't stand was incredible. You should have seen the size of the Pollock and just how awe-inspiring some of the modern pieces were. Of course, I also came to the conclusion that Picasso's work is comprised mostly of shit, but I am absolutely in love with European decorative arts now and a huge fan of Vermeer and Corbet. I saw some of Monet's most recognizable work, which was something else, truly. And believe it or not, I have discovered that America, indeed, has a sense of culture and learning. I have developed a keen appreciation for American art, which I before lacked. You know, it's one thing to view all these pieces of art in textbooks. It's quite another to see the full-sized versions. Some of the work is so beautiful that it really does bring tears to your eyes. What's more, is that one visit to the Met was enough to restore fully my love with art. I do know now, more so than ever before, how much I love being an artist. I think I relearned what I had once forgotten because of the horrors of AP Art my senior year of high school. I love how some paintings and sculptures just sets your soul into flight. I think that's my purpose; make art that sets the soul free into a realm of breathtaking happiness. I think I know how to do that; I think I found some true purpose for my art. Once more for dinner four of us went out for Chinese food. This time it was at this rich gormet place on the northside, I think. We went with our professor and his family, which still live up here. He has such a nice family. His sister-in-law foot the bill for all our meals, bought us appetizers and desserts. We weren't expecting that gesture. Here we were, trying to figure out the least expensive item on the menu to save us some cash, and she foots the bill! It was some good food. Thursday: I was so visually overwhelmed from the Met the day before that Kaitie, Amy, and I mutually decided that Thursday was designated shopping day. We took the subway downtown to Greenwich Village, on the outskirts of Soho, and got conveniently lost whilst on our mission for good shopping, which we accomplished with flying colors. I bought some new clothes as well as a unicorn tote bag from Urban Outfitters. Got some good deals. Much to my dismay, I discovered a tall mocha latte from Starbucks in NYC costs upward near the $5 mark. I was pissed off. And I felt really bad for the hard-working corporate laymen who really need their coffee in the morning and can't get it due to inner city financial rape. We wandered around a good part of the afternoon lost. We ended up somewhere smack dab in the New York University campus in the middle of class changing, and somehow, through sheer dumb luck, found our way back to the subway. That night, Kaitie and I bought Broadway "Rent" tickets for half-price via TKTS on Times Square, and treated ourselves to two hours of Broadway theater glory! Our seats were excellent for what we paid for them, and the show was absolutely fan-tabulous! It was one of those awe-inspiring, jaw-dropping shows that was every-bit of deserving of the standing ovation it received. I had received the soundtrack for Christmas, but listening to it had put me in a bad mood. I wasn't quite sure what to think about it because my theater teacher in high school had mixed emotions about it, but now there's no doubt in my mind: "Rent" rocks. Now all that's in my head these days is songs from the musical that were especially powerful like "You're What You Own." Friday: A couple of us went to the Frick Collection, and that was a much more feasible art museum (unlike the Met...) filled with works that suited my tastes to a tee. Frick was one of those turn of the century tycoons who built a mini-palace on Madison Avenue and filled it with peaceful artwork that made him happy. I have to say, I agree to his choices. One of my favorites was an old self-portrait-- really famous-- of Rembrandt and a lovely portrait of a woman in blue from the 1700s. Wonderful, wonderful pieces, I highly recommend the joint. After the Frick, it was back to the Met to finish up what we didn't see. Unfortunately, we still didn't get through the place. Interestingly enough, out of the thousands and thousands of pieces that museum has on display, it's estimated that what they have out for the public is only 10% of what they really own. Can you believe that? You can only wonder what they have stored in the vaults. That night, we began to pack up for our long journey through miles of road and Pennsylvanian fog home. Some guy came up to us on the streets and asked if we had need for fake IDs. That was amusing. All in all, it was an awesome trip. I'd do it again in a heart beat. The best thing of all, though, was that I got my artistic mojo back, and I am truly ready to become an artist.
A Bit of History ~ And Onward! L'Amour Toujours! - August 08, 2005 |
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