ILLUSTRATIONS#6

TITLE
CONTENTS

ABSTRACT
EPIGRAPH
INTRODUCTION
METHOD
ILLUSTRATIONS

(1) Pleasures

(2) Opportunities

(7) Ambivalence
DISCUSSION
APPENDIX
REFERENCES

Write us.

ILLUSTRATIONS

(6) Respite

Don't care if it's Chinatown or on Riverside....

I'm in a New York State of Mind.

-- Billy Joel (1975), "New York State of Mind"

From a more balanced perspective, even while many informants experienced New York as a source of stress or even distress, others viewed it more charitably as a place that does offer respite from the trials and tribulations that it creates. These more serene informants focused on special locations -- havens, retreats, places of refuge -- that they have found where they or others can go to seek peace, calmness, tranquility, or safety.

Some such bastions of relief are found in the home itself, as in one man's account of a cozy apartment that shields its inhabitants from the dangers outside (PHOTO 6A):

New York offers a multitude of living spaces; I've never seen two apartments with exactly the same layout, and the fun of visiting someone new is seeing what strange, novel arrangement of rooms -- and shapes of rooms -- that particular building offers. Many New York apartments are "old," and those are the ones which say "New York" to me: wood floors scarred by generations of high heels & furniture being slid around, layers of thick white paint rounding the sharp edges, built-in frames on the walls for pictures. This is a cozy New York apartment corner, with the rocker and the lamp; and in the background the bars of the window gate serve as a reminder of another New York, outside.

Other tranquil spots occur close to home, as in the following three appreciations of scenes found in Riverside Park near Columbia University -- first, a bench for resting at Grant's Tomb on the edge of the Park (PHOTO 6B); second, some trees that lead into the Park itself; and third, a small flower garden wherein friends of the Park attempt to stave off the forces of chaos.

"Man sleeping on a bench, basking in sunlight, in front of Grant's Tomb, next to a marginally busy street." New York, at its best, is a city filled with quiet cozy places. The juxtaposition of these quaint "beautiful in their own right places" to the busy impersonal magnitude make New York what it is. "Man sleeping on bench" represents how in some ways New York's almost incomprehensible size makes the little things seem more wonderful than they would in any other city. The fact that the bench, next to a small park, in front of [an] intimidating monument, happens to be located just a [few] feet away from a busy street [is] testament to the fact that people acknowledge small pleasures. For me New York's appeal and magnificence and infinite possibility come on the finding of these little sacred places. It's about creating personal rituals in a place where it's very hard to "get away from it all." Although the man on the bench appears to be homeless any 70o day spent napping under soft sunlight is an opportunity to be thankful for. Just as spending afternoons mulling through the bins in used record stores or book shops is my sacred retreat. Finding hidden treasures within such an omnipotent city is well worth the sacrifices we make to live here.

Initially, I struggled over this project. Having just moved to New York last year, there are a myriad series of images which represent the city -- Central Park, the Empire State Building, Times Square, and the Statue of Liberty.

Yet, these images are what a tourist thinks of New York. Now that I actually live here, I have the same need to escape as everyone else who lives with the hustle and bustle.

My favorite image of the city occurs when I walk through College Walk looking at the trees on my way to Riverside Park. My picture is the trees at 116th and Broadway [actually, Riverside Drive] where I enter the park to run four times a week. The park is my haven from the craziness of the city. It is also the place where I witness the seasons changing. So, I'd have to say the park is my favorite place in the city where I reflect on my life here.

"A 3-D Photo of a Lamp Post with the Ninety-first Street Flower Garden in the Background." From Bloemendaal (which is, "Valley of the Tulips," in Dutch) in the days of New Amsterdam to Bloomingdale at the re-christening by the English, the Upper-West Side has been a place to find respite from [the] city. This is what I find here and this is why I am quite happy to live here. Here in "my neighborhood." Here in my first Manhattan destination fourteen years ago. Here where I've watched eleven years of my life slip by; not un-enjoyably! Here, just off Riverside Drive, in this neighborhood that has become a part of who I am, I can look around at so many things that top the list of "What New York Means to Me."

Other informants must travel farther from home to reach their special places of refuge. In this direction, one woman gains restorative energy from the experience of watching the roller-bladers in Central Park (PHOTO 6E):

New York -- diversity, explosive energy, beauty, and challenge. My photo reflects all of these elements. Whenever the city gets the best of me, I pick myself up and park myself in front of the skating loop in Central Park. The vitality that emanates from this group of people seeps into my pores. In my younger years, I would join them as they danced 'round and 'round that circle, disco booming from the portable stereo. Now, I just play the observer, entranced by the scene before me. I never fail to walk away feeling better than when I arrived, once again reminded of the transformational power of a simple experience.

Another informant attains serenity by visiting a boat pond that -- by virtue of the childhood memories it evokes -- creates a feeling of special contentment to make his trip worthwhile (PHOTO 6F):

Sometimes when I'm feeling a bit down or I sense that I need a change from my current routine, I head to a certain spot in the city. Just inside the East 72nd St. entrance to Central Park lies a place that brings me back to my childhood and always puts a smile on my face. It is the pond where kids of all ages race their electronic boats. Whether you own your own model or rent one from the accompanying sailboat shop, the scene comes alive on almost every weekend afternoon between Spring and Fall. When I was there a couple of Sundays ago, a father and his 2 twin daughters were lost in the joy of controlling their boats, and it seem[ed] dad was enjoying himself as much as the kids. In another segment of the pond, two older gentlemen were enjoying [the] afternoon away. New York often gets characterized for its violence and racial discord on one hand, the glitz of being the entertainment-theatre-restaurant capital of the world on the other. For me, it's a little slice of Central Park where a special serenity exists like no place I've ever seen.

Almost paradoxically to those of us who live in terror of taxicab rides, a final respite-seeking informant described her distress as a diffuse but threatening sense of uncertainty. As described in her vignette, this feeling surrounds her in the City and proves so uncomfortable that she actually nominated the yellow cab as a place to find refuge:

BACK OF A NEW YORK CAB. The experience of living in a new city is typified by uncertainty. The uncertainty of location: "Where am I?" and "How do I get to where I want To?" And the uncertainty arising from lack of familiarity: "Is that safe for me?" These uncertainties lend attraction to the roving yellow comfort zones on wheels.

The experience of New York is akin to a prolonged visit to a ... film set and this encourages behaviour characteristic of the film characters: rushing out into the street with arm raised and leaping into the back of a yellow cab before fading out into the next scene.

Speaking of "fading out into the next scene," this informant's photograph failed to turn out -- presumably because she shot it at such close range, too near to whatever it is that she finds so comforting in the back seat of a taxi.