For those of you just tuning in, I am currently lost in the great industrial hallways of Long Island City. Though, after two hours of meandering, I was starting to get a little tired and asked directions from one of the few human beings I had seen thus far. 21st Street (where I got off the train), he informed me, was about a mile away, exactly back in the direction I came. But did I follow these directions? Or did I get distracted by, say, the Guatemalan National Anthem emanating from a public park with a Caterpillar backhoe in the center?
When I got there (obviously I didn’t follow direction people, come-on) I found these guys :
About a hundred in all, they waited impatiently for their soccer season to start while the MC went through all the people to thank and all national anthems of the players. Mothers handed off babies to the uniformed husbands for snack runs. Stray soccer balls from the next generation of players veered between the lines. Nevertheless, the MC was adamant in his duties and in about twenty minutes I was getting a little antsy myself. But there was a novelty to consider: the “field” was a disused concrete basketball court. Besides, I had started chatting with the only other English speaker in the crowd – Doug, from Canada (he came up with the nomenclature). Apropos of last post about LIC re: yet more gentrification, Doug had a home renovation business and had just been with clients looking to upgrade their condo. Despite going through our abbreviated life stories, a few jokes, and wonderment at the soccer players’ dedication to the game given their playing surface, the MC was still going. Wait! He’s handing the mic off….no. More speeches. Doug and I went our separate ways with promises of FaceBook friendship. One thing I will mention before leaving this scene however – given the skill of the kids practicing while they waited for their fathers to start, in about ten years American soccer won’t be so import dependent. So keep practicing! There’s only 3 World Cups before you have to be ready!
Now, from my last visit a few years ago, I had a vague memory of what P.S. 1 looked like. Yes, yes I know. That structure and all the art that it holdeth should be emblazoned on my brain. However, not so much. But I was pretty sure this was it as I approached a enormous red-brick building in a sea of cement. The diligent security guard informed me, kind of – I had to go around to the front. This last hurdle jumped, I entered the rather prison-like courtyard,
one of my favorite parts of the museum. No really. It’s a mostly blank space void of visual stimulus before entering the world of over-stimulus. Moreover, you have a choice to walk on the gravel, or the sidewalk. The sidewalk may have been placed their for handicap access – but it still gives you the choice to interact with the gravel – which creates both texture and sound – or walk dolefully on the concrete. Brilliant.
Less brilliant was the sign in the front lobby informing me I couldn’t take pictures of the artwork. No matter. I decided to take pictures of things that were not art like this:
hoping to get in trouble so as to have more to write about. No such luck. The one security guard who did catch me, who shall remain nameless, gave me a momentary scolding and told me I’d have to get a press pass if I wanted to take photographs. But then, without my protesting even a little, he said, “Go ahead. Whatever.” But, I had already told him I was doing an “art project” about things in museums that were not art and didn’t want to blow my cover.
Unfortunately, about 75% of the museum was closed due to installation. So, I spent a lot of quality time in the video art room – a medium I wasn’t particularly keen on – until now – thanks to Rosum’s Universal Robots.
This guy is from a 1930s film adaptation of Czech science fiction writer, Karel Capek’s play about robots taking over the earth (among other things, like um, socialism). That, I assure you, has nothing on the video at PS 1. First of all, it’s not a play – it’s a ballet. A robot ballet with amazing robot costumes – think robot tutu – and sets built by the incredible Frederick Kiesler. I was mesmerized throughout. If anyone out there in cyberland knows were to get a copy of this cultural gem – let me know!
To conclude, I will just mention that I passed by the soccer game on my way back. They were just getting started.
Next New York City neighborhood: City Island. Where’s that?