Taking in Some Culture
Culture, culture, culture. I'm back from my whirlwind tour of Manhattan, New York. Parts of it, at least. Our friend Bill, a reader of this blog, some months ago had planned one of his opera trips to that city and he ended up with a bigger hotel room than he'd planned. Thus came the invitation for your humble blogger to join him for a few days of concentrated culture.
I was there from Saturday until yesterday, Wednesday afternoon. Travel by train between Washington, DC and Manhattan was remarkably civilized. It's been quite a number of years since I'd traveled by train in this country. Most of my train experience in the last few years–subways aside–was in Italy.
Our guesthouse was the Colonial House Inn, in Chelsea. It was comfortable, idiosyncratic, and conveniently located for us. The house is decorated with paintings by the former owner, Mel Cheren–not such a good idea in this case although it did contribute some personality. The house also has the distinction (and the plaque to prove it) of being the first permanent home of the Gay Men's Health Crisis. Nearby there were several restaurants that suited our taste on various days of our stay. The nearest subway stop was just around the corner and a block down the street.
Saturday was cold and rainy and windy, so we didn't manage much culture, except for Bill's going to the opera in the evening (Verdi's "Otello", at the Met). I suppose I had a little local culture since I made dinner out of two slices (of pizza, of course). I was in the mood for anchovies. "Have you got anything with anchovies?" I asked. My helpful pizza purveyor: "You want anchovies, I'll put anchovies on this slice right here!" He did. I don't think I've ever had so many anchovies on a single slice of pizza before. Yumm.
Sunday we went to the Whitney Museum of American Art. This was good and bad. The bad part was that they were in the midst of their "Whitney Biennial", a sort of invitational in which they asked 81 working artists to contribute pieces. The assembly rather resembled a flea market in which each artist had some booth space to fill as he or she saw fit. I looked at it all and laughed in a deprecating manner at most of it. I decided this was how we could tell we are old farts, laughing at contemporary art. The artists seemed so earnest, but their emphasis seemed to be on their "statements" about what their pieces were about, rather than invoking any sort of aesthetic response through the piece itself. Luckily for the artists, the Whitney provided the audio guide free; unluckily, it was too tedious to listen to after the first dozen or so.
The redeeming good at the Whitney was a small exhibit called "Chimneys and Towers: Charles Demuth's Late Paintings of Lancaster". This alone was worth the price of admission. Ken Johnson reviewed the show in the New York Times ("A Watercolorist Who Turned His Hand to Oils of Heroic Vision") and captured its spirit pretty well, calling the exhibit "gorgeous" and "tightly focused". Gorgeous without question, it was tightly focused because it occupied only two rooms on the hard-to-find mezzanine off the fifth floor. Here were just a few paintings, moderately sized oil paintings of factories and industrial-scapes in Lancaster (Pennsylvania), in a style that merges art deco and hints of cubism into something splendid. (And, I suspect Mr. Johnson gets the message right when he interprets all the phallic images in Demuth's paintings as the artist having some fun at his critic's expense.) Demuth (1883–1935) was a painter I've admired for some time, so I was very excited at the chance to see these paintings in person. It was quite a treat.
Bill went to see and hear "King Arthur" by Henry Purcell (NYTimes review), a presentation at the New York City Opera. I spent some more time at the Whitney checking that I hadn't missed something good in the Biennial show, went back to say goodbye to the Demuth paintings, and then headed off for some more distinctively New York culture: a hot dog lunch in Central Park.
It was a cool afternoon with an occasional breeze, but the sun was out and so it was comfortable to sit in the park for awhile and watch people and their dogs walk by. After a suitable interval, I met Bill at the Metropolitan Museum and we returned home for a brief rest.
That evening we had dinner at the Lasagna Ristorante, just down the street on 8th Avenue at 20th street. It was a very lively place and my food was excellent; I had a Caesar salad and the Chicken Arrabiato. The prices were surprisingly moderate, too. If you stop in, say hi to our waiter, Craig, who was cute, charming, and very good at his job.
Monday morning we started out with a quick trip downtown to see the Brooklyn Bridge, which still is quite something to see. (I'll have more to say about it in the future, I suspect, when I finally finish reading David McCullough's book on the subject.) We strolled out onto the bridge as far as the tower (Manhattan side) and looked around at the skyline. We had a lovely, if somewhat distant view, of the Chrysler Building. We also decided that the tall building near the bottom of the bridge approach must be the Woolworth Building, so we walked to it to be sure and, to be sure, there was discrete lettering over the door that said "Woolworth Building". I don't think I had realized just how much high-gothic filigree it had on it, but it was very pleasant to admire for awhile.
After that it obviously was time to head uptown and look for the Chrysler Building (photo source). We took the subway to Grand Central Station and looked at its great hall whose proportions I found quite appealing, then we went out the 42nd-street exit. Naturally I felt like tap-dancing, but forbearance triumphed.
It took us a bit to find the Chrysler Building–tall buildings are harder to spot when one is standing next to them–and we admired it for some time from the outside. (Three pages about the Chrysler Building: one, two, three; more photos, including some of the lobby) Such fabulous Art Deco design makes my heart beat faster for sure. Bill was clever enough to suggest going into the lobby, which turned out to be surprisingly intimate for such an imposing structure. The ceiling was low and covered with a mural (painted on canvas, as it turned out). The lamps, sconces, elevator doors, air-vent grilles–everything was most deliciously designed, streamlined and shiny.
We strolled through Rockefeller Center then had some lunch at a deli behind Radio City Music Hall. Finally headed off in the direction of the MOMA, which was our ultimate destination for the day. Along the way we made a brief visit to St. Thomas' Fifth Avenue, an Episcopal church.
Fortunately, the Museum of Modern Art was not having a Biennial exhibition, so we got to enjoy a good chunk of their permanent collection, which is all Modern art that is more familiar to me and which I quite enjoy seeing. It's always a delight to see all those paintings that are so familiar, but only from reproductions in books. I was particularly surprised by Picasso's "Three Musicians"–I never realized it was so large! (BTW, the color in the online MOMA reproduction is horrible. This Wikipedia photograph is more true to my impression of the colors.)
There was here also a special exhibition that made the trip worthwhile: "Lucian Freud: The Painter's Etchings". Freud is a fabulous portrait artist (even if his portraits are sometimes on the disturbing side). This show looked at his many etchings, which weren't familiar to me at all. They were very interesting, and comparisons were made to some of his paintings as they hung nearby, giving us the chance to see the paintings and remark on the different ways he treated his subjects in the different media. It added some breadth to my appreciation of Freud's body of work.
That evening I had a quiet evening reading while Bill went to see "Tristan und Isolde" at the Met. It was the opening night for this production. Unfortunately, the expected Tristan, Ben Heppner, was unable to perform and it seems that John MacMaster was not quite up to taking his place. (Admittedly there are very few tenors fully capable of stepping into the role at the last minute.) Yesterday morning we read a review in the New York Times that expressed similar sentiments.
Tuesday had a pretty focused agenda: The Cloisters. We took trains way uptown and finally got there after a pleasant walk through Fort Tryon park, where it's located. The Cloisters houses the medieval collection of the Metropolitan Museum. I'll talk more about it in the next Beard of the Week feature–watch this space!
We noticed that The Cloisters is serviced by the M4 bus, so we determined to take it back downtown after we finished. At least, we thought we'd go a ways then change to a train after some lunch, because the trip back to Chelsea would have take about 2.5 hours according to the posted schedule.
We got off the bus at 112th street and Broadway for two reasons: hunger overwhelmed us, and it was the cross-street where we could visit the Cathedral of St. John the Divine. First, we ate lunch at Tom's Restaurant (nice photo–apparently made famous by appearing in the "Seinfeld" television show; the Seinfeld connection did not escape us given the amount of Seinfeld paraphernalia on the walls). I had an eggplant hero, which hit the spot.
We spent some time at St. John the Divine. Most of the nave was closed off because of restoration work being done following a major fire in 2001, although it was still evident that the building was huge. Nevertheless, we thoroughly enjoyed the ambulatory around the apse and we stopped in at all of the Corona Chapels (so called since they form a sort of "crown" around the east end of the church) and wandered through the choir and chancel. Bill, who played the organ there once, finally located the door that one went through to climb up to the loft where the organ console was.
Then we made our way back home, because it was time for a brief rest before we both headed out together to that evening's Met performance of Benjamin Britten's "Peter Grimes". That was quite an exciting event (NYTimes review), so I think I'll write about it in another entry, lest this summary totally burst its bounds.
I should mention that we had lunch on Wednesday just before heading off for our train at the Moonstruck Diner, in Chelsea just a block away from our guesthouse. It provided an entirely authentic diner experience, probably because it has been an authentic diner for years although it's more recently remodeled. We noted it down as a place that could be another regular eating spot for the next time we stay in Chelsea.
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on Thursday, 13 March 2008 at 22.28
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Sounds like a wonderful trip. Your description brings back some memories, although I never walked out on the Brooklyn Bridge or actually went inside the Chrysler Bldg.
Your hotel has a nice homey look to it. When my family stayed in N.Y., it was usually at the Roosevelt, up around Fifth and 45th, I think (it's been a long while) or the Statler, down nearer to Times Square.
In warmer weather, the Gray Line around-the-island boat tour is very worthwhile. If I ever get back there, I hope to do that again, visit the Metropolitan Museum and the library across from St. Patrick's Cathedral.
There used to be a really good, moderate-price restaurant almost directly across from one of the Grand Central entrances, The Colony. Great omelets and waffles any time, with fast, pleasant service. I expect after all these years it's gone or maybe not the same, though.
BTW, Jeff, you are now officially the only other person I'm acquainted with who shares my occasional enjoyment of anchovy pizza. I salute your sophisticated taste.
on Thursday, 13 March 2008 at 22.44
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Going to look at the lobby of the Chrysler Building is, IMHO, arguably the best free activity in Manhattan. Don't miss it.
Here's my observation re:anchovies on pizza. Whenever I'm in a group of, say, 8 to 12 people who are planning to order 4 or 5 pizzas, I suggest anchovies. "Eeeeuw! Gross!!" is the universal reaction but, if I can find another 3 takers who grudgingly promise to eat a piece or two, we get one. The anchovy pizza is always the first to be totally consumed.
I am glad to hear that we both have such refined tastes.
on Friday, 14 March 2008 at 14.57
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I'd put walking out on the Brooklyn Bridge, (or, better, taking the subway to High Street/Brooklyn Bridge station in Brooklyn, and walking back across the bridge into Manhattan, as I did a few years ago) right up there with visiting the lobby of the Chrysler Building as one of the top free things to do in New York.
on Friday, 14 March 2008 at 15.47
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you went to Rockerfeller Center? and Radio City Music Hall? Did you see any Rockettes?
Enquiring Minds Need To Know
on Friday, 14 March 2008 at 15.49
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Well, there MAY have been Rockettes passing back and forth on the street in front of the deli window where we were sitting, but if there were, they weren't in costume. And even if they had been, women's legs aren't all that likely to catch our attention anyway, if you catch my drift.
on Friday, 14 March 2008 at 15.53
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tsk tsk, and you said you were there for a Kulchural Visite.
how can you NOT call the Rockettes a part of NYC Kulchur? Much more 'murrican than Peter Grimes
but then, you didn't even think the Rockettes existed any more. Sigh. these mordern kulchural illiterati.
on Friday, 14 March 2008 at 16.38
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I will point out two things:
1. Bill was my cultural guide to New York and I trusted his discretion on all cultural matters; and
2. I did have hot dogs in Central Park and two New York slices for dinner one night. More culture might have given me indigestion.
on Saturday, 15 March 2008 at 03.31
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"I did have hot dogs in Central Park . . ."
Nathan's, with everything but, God forbid, ketchup, I hope.
on Saturday, 15 March 2008 at 10.49
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Whether Nathan's I can't say for sure, but definitely no ketchup. Eeeuw!