THE MODERN, AND... CITY LIGHTS

Thursday, Dec. 21

We patched togther a not-too-successful breakfast in our hotel room, with a poor attempt at English breakfast tea made with a malfunctioning Nespresso machine and granola and yogurt from the supply provided, as always, in the lobby by the Roger Smith Hotel. Then set out for the walk to our first stop for the day at the Museum of Modern Art. Passing St. Pat’s, we stopped for a brief tour of the cathedral...

... before setting out north on Fifth Avenue...

... to admire the real American Christmas spirit in the sumptuously decorated shop windows, including a couple of beautiful, sparkling small scale dioramas at Tiffany’s...

... and, across the street at Bergdorf Goodman’s, their usual full-scale window extravaganzas...

Having paid our homage to ostentatious materialism, we turned back down Fifth to 53^rd Street and arrived at our original destination. Like the Met, MoMA had kindly provided me with guest tickets—particularly, but not exclusively, for a show that had caught my attention before leaving Los Angeles, “Charles White—Leonardo da Vinci, Curated by David Hammons.” Having spent nearly two years researching what I hoped would be a book on the African American artist, White—an old friend and colleague from my days as Dean at Otis Art Institute, I was imagining an exhibition featuring a comparison of drawings by each of these two master draftsmen, one time-honored in the annals of history and academia, the other undeservedly side-lined, in his day, by the great sweep of American mainstream art.

I was amazed—and frankly at first a little chagrined—to be greeted by something far different in the strange and fascinating display that Hammons had actually installed—though I should perhaps have expected something poetic and intellectually challenging from an artist whose own work has confronted us often with mystery and metaphorical conundrum. The large, low-lit gallery space was hung with only two images, placed directly across from each other on opposing walls—a tiny drawing of drapery by Leonardo and White’s very large “Black Pope”...

... in which the central figure is similarly draped in robes. A third wall was hung with arcanely detailed, large scale astrological readings of both artists, inviting the viewer to find points of comparison—and difference between the two. White’s, appropriately, was filled with the struggle and suffering with which he was confronted in his life as a black man in a culture not yet (and still not, today!) resolved in its own bleak, shameful history of slavery. Hammons slyly invites us into a deeply personal contemplation of a complexity of earthly issues involving race and religion as well as the influence of the stars.

We wandered on, from this exhibition, into the current installation of work from MoMA’s rich collection of 20^th century art. It was soon clear that the museum is making a conscious effort at diversity: the installation featured a good number of lesser know artists, including previously minimized or neglected women and artists from other than Western cultures (Iraq, Iran) alongside the regular canon of artists and art movements. Still predominant, though, unsurprisingly, was MoMA’s in depth collection of the work of the two big white guys, Picasso and Matisse.

Upstairs, on the 6^th floor, we found the exhibition “Items: Is Fashion Modern?” comprising, according to the museum’s description. “111 items of clothing and accessories...

... that have had a strong impact on the world in the 20th and 21st centuries—and continue to hold currency today. Among them are pieces as well-known and transformative as the Levi’s 501s, the Breton shirt, and the Little Black Dress, and as ancient and culturally charged as the sari, the pearl necklace, the kippah, and the keffiyeh.” An interesting show from the point of view of cultural history, even though not quite up my alley. We half-wondered whether any of Ellie’s stepmother’s gifts of high-fashion clothes to MoMA might be included, but did not find any.

Down the elevators to the lunch room on the first floor, where we enjoyed the company of a young mother and her very pretty daughter, along with a shared bowl of soup and salad. On the way back to the galleries we were intrigued to hear the sound of enthusiastic applause coming up from the lobby, and learned that its cause was a live performance by Patti Smith. Hurrying back down the stairs, we found a place not twenty feet from the famed performer, just in time to hear a plea for political activism from her daughter, followed by a spirited rendition of Smith’s iconic anthem, “People Have the Power”... a performance in which the audience was invited to participate, and did so, with gusto. Written many years ago—I suppose in the context of the Vietnam war—the song has sadly lost none of its burning relevance today. A great and unexpected treat.

After lunch, we tackled the big Steven Shore exhibition and Louise Bourgeois. I have to say that I was underwhelmed by the former’s conceptual photographic work—often, it seemed to me, a cataloging of relatively random images whose metaphorical and formal associations were pretty much left to the imagination of the viewer. The large landscape images, though, were quite beautiful in their exquisite detail of rocks, grasses, and so on, seen in the foreground of great panoramas of some of earth’s most lovely places. I respond, frankly, with greater emotional connection to the hands-on, heart-out work of an artist like Louise Bourgeois...

... whose intense and intimate explorations of herself—both her inner life and the biological of her physical body...

... are much closer to what I myself attempt as a writer. She tells me a great deal about what it means to be a woman, an insight a value as a man who would otherwise have only empathy to go on. She struggles with her self and lays out the result for all to see and share.

We left the Modern towards late afternoon, intending, originally, to find a cab across to our dinner date on Tenth Avenue. Good luck with that! We headed south on Fifth Avenue, battling immense and growing crowds as we approached the Rockefeller Center where the masses jammed together, to see not only the famous Christmas tree and watch the ice skating but also, across Fifth, to marvel over the spectacular light display on the façade of Saks department store...

The combination made forward progress almost impossible without the forceful use of shoulder and elbow, but we finally made it as far as 47^th Street, where we turned west and walked on through Times Square (another spectacular light show!) and across town to Tenth Street and our dinner destination at the MéMéditerranean restaurant.

We found Ellie’s nephew Danny and his wife, Rachel, waiting for us, and I drank a welcome glass of single malt as we waited for Sarah and Tim and our little grandson, Luka. They arrived soon enough, and we all enjoyed a wonderful family reunion over good Mediterranean cuisine...

From left: Sarah & Luka, Danny, Rachel, Ellie, Myself...

 It was a pleasure to spend a little time with Danny and Rachel, whom we had not seen since their wedding a couple of years ago. They were the first to leave, headed up to the Berkshires to spend the holiday there. The rest of us piled into an Uber and drove back across town to our hotel, where Luka joined us in our room for the night, while Sarah and Tim went out on the town…