For December’s Children
A spooky, copacetic time has arrived in the Northeast. “In the cool of the evening, everythin’ is gettin’ kind of groovy.” The golden light of early twilight baths city streets. Fallen leaves tumble in a breeze. It’s officially jacket weather.
With cold weather approaching and traditional yearly celebrations at your door, life can feel overwhelming. Time for a panic attack? Try not to grab a handful of drugs from the medicine cabinet. Mental health experts agree, pop psychology trigger warnings cause anxiety. Everything’s a conundrum these days. Please don’t say “It is what it is.”
One might need to take a breather after dinner. Time to put on that sweater you like. I wasn’t aware my closet hosted MothFest this past summer, until I discovered a mountain of cashmere dust on the floor. An old sweatshirt will have to do for now.
Making a list is what a professional, paid organizer does. Keep that for Santa. Just brace yourself for the annual potluck media masturbation that covers everything you need to know. Aren’t there other ways to look at things? Try splashy layouts having fun with nutty, small-fry stories written by children about locations you’ll never visit, packed with buzzwords you don’t know.
For “Yesterday I got so old” in between days inspiration, you might turn to television. Name a current series where New York residential apartment life is depicted? The opening credits for Murders in the Building are tidy. An appealing piece of opening animation features a New Yorker style cover illustration coming to life. A bird’s eye view of the façade, courtyard, and gate of the Arconia apartment building are all visible. You get a peek at the main characters going about their everyday lives. Laura Perez, an artist, created the credits for the show, which flow seamlessly with Siddhartha Khosla’s theme music. Each episode’s title sequence contains a secret hint.
Memory recalls the crime drama Naked City (1958-1963) that ended with the sign-off “There are eight million stories in the naked city. This has been one of them.” Someone out there must be counting; according to Movie Insider, New York City as a setting has appeared in over 1074 movies.
Despite the tenacity, luxury real estate developers remain ravenous and preoccupied with meeting the demands of Manhattan’s royalty and rich finance brothers in their post-recovery endeavors. Still, empty storefronts suggest commercial vacancy rates remain high.
In a year filled with numerous significant events so far, one moment stands out in my mind. The tragic incident involved Maxwell Azzarello; a troubled demonstrator rambling about a totalitarian con, took his own life by pouring lighter fluid and setting himself ablaze in Collect Pond Park. On April 19th, I was in the vicinity of the crowded Manhattan Criminal Courthouse. Observing Azzarello’s burnt corpse being placed in an ambulance was the most unsettling event I witnessed this year. I reacted viscerally, not prepared to see his charred remains. The tragedy highlights the realities of public protests and our need for appropriate mental health crisis treatment.
More class struggles on a lighter note. Do hyper-privileged blond “hands-off” parents look even blonder when they’re stressed-out? City sidewalks are now commonly mistaken for speedways by kids who may not know the difference between a backyard and a street. Flying by on e-scooters, packs of screaming children pour out of apartment buildings. Following closely on an e-bike, a blonde trophy mom sports Gucci sunglasses. She looked distressed.
Another pointless art vandalization kicked off gallery season—the defacing of Vincent van Gogh’s Sunflowers—this time with yellow soup. Meanwhile in downtown Manhattan, many galleries once located in Chelsea, have returned to Tribeca. Creative teams are back in action, painting walls white and hanging pieces. I feel for one staff employee who reminds me of silent film actress Theda Bara. Sitting at a gallery front desk all day long is a demanding job, occasionally they field lost tourist questions. “Where’s Canal Street?” No wonder they’re always in a bad mood.
And to my surprise on a street in Soho—an exquisite recent Alex Katz painting—pale trees against a light background. The canvas was being transported outside his studio onto a truck specializing in handling and shipping fine art; Katz is one of the few artists (a working 97-year-old) who remains in the neighborhood.
The status of Collect Pond Park has reverted back to its original state: dirty pigeons, the homeless hanging out and trial jurors on a break. The park’s background is now larger. In the footprints of the now-demolished old jail, a wide expanse of clear blue sky. A faint stain on the concrete serves as a reminder, it’s where Maxwell Azzarello was engulfed in flames.