Archive for 2010
Wednesday linkage
– photo by Mitch Waxman
So, it seems that the “In the Cold Waste” postings (1, 2, and 3) from last week stirred the fecal material a little bit when LIQcity and Queenscrap linked into them. If you’re inclined, check out the comment threads on their posts, my favorite one by far is from an anonymous commenter at LIQcity that said “The Newtown Pentacle person has to learn to write. I feel like Liberace or Elton John are his inspiration“.
If you want to hurt me, compare me to some latter day August Derleth, or call me an unlettered and revisionist neo-prudentialitarian with no scholarly legs to stand on- but Elton John? I’m just interested in stuff, some guy in a filthy black raincoat on the side of the road, nobody cares what I think but I still have the right to an opinion or two. Conversely, I can and will defend my opinions and admit when I’m wrong.
Maybe I do find the story of Liberace somewhat inspirational. I do prefer Elton’s vocals on “Pinball Wizard” from the movie album to the straight up Daltrey version.
– photo from wikipedia
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Discomforting and odd as it is, the theme music for most days is not Liberace or Elton John, it’s actually sides 2 & 3 of “The Wall“-
and speaking of England… Check out this post at BoingBoing about the “war on Photography” over in Britain.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Also, I haven’t mentioned the podcast bliss that is Dan Carlin, have I? If podcasting could win an Academy Award, Dan would own many little statues for his recent “Ostfront” episodes of the Hardcore History series, exploring the deep history of the War on the Eastern Front between Nazi and Soviet during World War 2 (proving the point that you never want to piss off a Russian in his house, those people are insane and cannot be beaten on their home turf).
Ostfront factoid: During a spell of severe weather which had destroyed a road, the Russians marched their German POW’s to a ditch and forced them to lie down in it- spaced out in regular intervals. The Soviets poured water into the ditch, allowing the russian winter to freeze the dead solid and build them a corduroy road out of their enemies. Don’t screw around with a Russian in his house. Crazy.
Carlin’s “Common Sense” show is the most cogent discussion of modern politics I’ve been able to find anywhere. Available through iTunes, Podcast Alley, and others, follow this link to dancarlin.com to check out the king of the hill and listen to some actual editorial journalism.
And just as a note, today, January 6, is Three kings Day.
Tales of Calvary 7
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I just can’t sit on this one anymore. After a spree of “all cemetery” postings in November and December, I decided to take a step back from the grave, but I just can’t stop myself…
Promises would be offered to you, lords and ladies of Newtown, not to spend too much time amongst the dead in these first days of the new year, but I’d probably break them.
Paper fades, buildings fall, but Calvary is eternal and undying. Dripping in its centuried silence and nitre choked glory, the emerald desolations of Calvary Cemetery offer a pastoral transit between tumultuous neighborhoods in the Newtown Pentacle, and that weird old man in the filthy black raincoat you might glimpse as you drive by is often your humble narrator.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On this particular day, a sunny Saturday (Thanksgiving weekend in 2009), I wasn’t transiting Calvary.
I had come here with a definite purpose, searching for the grave of a man who died in the early 30’s rumored to have been involved with the illegal smuggling of strange statuettes into the United States in the 1920’s from some impossibly remote pacific island. This man, a Massachusetts merchant named Gilman, was killed in a freak nocturnal accident, apparently by a bale of paper which had fallen out of some warehouse window along the Newtown Creek. His oddly deformed body was found by workmen the next morning, and the Coroner pronounced the death accidental. The victim was buried in Calvary’s public section as an act of charity, and under the assumption that Gilman was an Irish name. His belongings and personal valuables, made from some queer kind of gold sculpted into wild and heretical forms, were collected by a schooner captain whose three masted ship appeared unbidden at the Penny Bridge docks one night during an unnaturally thick fog. The Captain, a Massachusetts trader named Marsh, paid for a custom and eccentric grave marker to be erected for this Gilman fellow somewhere in Calvary. It remains elusive, but I shall find it- I found Al Smith!
As is often the case, my befuddled and inept investigations were swept wildly off course by a highly suggestible and credulous nature which makes me vulnerable to wild flights of shivering cowardice and shameful paranoia. Such timidity does not suit one who stands and stares into whatever abyss happens to be before him, and what I saw chilled me with its wild possibilities. It was Thanksgiving weekend, and Calvary was as quiet as… well… a tomb.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As seen in the above shots, the overgrown monument with its vine covered cupola intrigued and drew my attention. In accordance with usual methods, the object was photographed from many angles, and my path led me widdershins around it. As mentioned in the last paragraph, thanksgiving weekend had evinced a general evacuation of the area surrounding that bulkheaded duct of urban horror called the Newtown Creek, and like their counterparts in the spires of Manhattan it would seem that the workers of Calvary got off early on the previous Wednesday. Just dropped their shovels, as it were.
That’s when I saw it, said “oh. oh… no… just keep walking… don’t take any pictures of…”. Unfortunately, my finger was already depressing the button on my camera. I had lost all control, and still can’t stop myself from posting about it weeks later… I’m all ‘effed up.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In the interest of full disclosure, the names on the two grave markers are obscured as they were modern burials. If a grave is at least older than me, I feel fine about publishing a photo or talking about who it holds. If it’s an early 1900’s burial- fair game. (note: a cool thing happened recently- a sepulchral portrait, randomly chosen and published in the Mt. Zion series of postings, resulted in a certain Pentacle reader seeing his grandmother’s face for the first time) These interments, however, date from the early 1990’s and later. The context of this post demands some discretion, and censoring the names of the deceased whose graves are seen is definitely the right thing to do.
Now on to something you don’t normally see… and I am cognizant that the presentation of the following is vulgar and in very bad taste. I just can’t stop myself… Its like some alien thing is controlling me…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
There is a limited amount of time that one can tolerate solitary exposure to Calvary Cemetery, as the marble crown of Laurel Hill is a sort of psychic Chernobyl. It preys upon you- this place- in subtle ways, and comes at you in a manner not unlike the gradual stupefaction brought on by liquor. On New Year’s Eve, someone offered me three plots here for free, and withdrew the offer when I explained what a gravesite in Old Calvary is actually worth. Coincidence? hmmm… The place has noticed me, and it is trying to draw me further in…
Like ionizing radiation, whose damage to healthy living flesh is calculated by a multiplex of intensity and duration, whatever it is that lurks in the aether of Calvary is invisible, insidious, and real. Looking into an open grave like this, in this place, carries the comparable psychic risks of unshielded exposure to the thermonuclear eye of god itself.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
What I can’t do, is use my favorite catch phrase. The “who can guess…” one. Horrors too horrible for the graves holding lurk into the abyss, and loathsomeness waits below, but…
That’s what I was thinking as I passed out, again, in a dead faint. Luckily I fell backwards.
Catherine Turecamo at HellsGate, and camera news
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Technical upgrades have occurred here in Pentacle HQ. A new DSLR, which was quite unaffordable, has been purchased from the unknowable levantines at BH Photo. The trusty Canon G10, in use since its issuance in late 2008, is off to Canon for warranty service owing to the defects that have appeared on its lens. Said scratches seem to originate from the mechanical action of the external housing which are meant to protect the lens element. These scratches have, after shooting some 17,000 exposures in the last year, become quite noticeable and are getting in the way. The G10 will return to Newtown Pentacle service upon repair, and is highly recommended to all for its versatile nature, manual shooting modes, ability to save in RAW format, and crisp lens- although it falls apart in low light and is useless at high ISO speeds. The flash is also pathetic.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Deciding to take the plunge into the DSLR world, our lady of the Pentacle and myself worked out a budget, and research on what was available in my price point began. Things narrowed to the Nikon D90 and Canon Rebel T1i (or 500D). The Nikon is wielded by a buddy of mine to great effect, and offers the promise of a “full size” sensor. The Nikon ecosystem of accessory lenses and other bits is also a little less expensive than commensurate equipment in the Canon range. The Canon, however, matches the 15 megapixel spec of the G10 (also a Canon) and also offers an operating system that seemed a bit more organic to me. I use a Mac, always have, and have quit jobs that forced me to use a windows PC in the past. Organic matters to me, which is why a Sony camera was never considered. (imho Sony makes the best Hardware-Everything, and the worst software-Everything).
– photo by Mitch Waxman
So, having spent a ton of money I don’t have, the plunge was taken on the Canon T1i and a couple of decent lenses. Of course, this is after “the season” for photography in New York, which is actually most of the time- just not in December and January. Harsh shadow and blown highlights, overcast skies and leaden water- trademarks of the winter sun here in the Newtown Pentacle- the angle and frequency of the light is all wrong except in the early morning and late afternoon. Photography types term this as “golden hour”, which somehow sounds “dirty” to me.
So, on one of the few sunny days enjoyed of late, your humble narrator pulled the filthy black raincoat off its hook and scuttled forth to find what I could find. Hells Gate is always a good choice for experimenting with a new gizmo. Astoria Park is just about as safe these days as you can expect to be when out in public, and there’s always something interesting going on. I shot these with the “long lens”, which is fancy way of saying telephoto.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
That’s the Catherine Turecamo, a 1972 vintage 199 ton 3,200 HP tugboat, operated by the Moran towing company. It was built at the Main Iron Works in Louisiana as the MIss Lynn.
from morantug.com
Moran Towing Corporation has provided tugboat services to the Port of New York since 1860. The company began with Michael Moran’s purchase of-one-half interest in a tugboat. In the years since, the fleet with the white M logo on its stacks has become the largest in the port,and on the U.S. East and Gulf Coasts. The port of New York-New Jersey provides access to the most concentrated and affluent consumer market in the world. Its facilities include terminals operated by the Port Authority of NY & NJ and privately operated terminals. Over 16 million tons of cargo pass through the port on an annual basis, transported aboard various types of ships, including container ships, tankers and barges. The New York division also services the Port of Albany, located 145 miles up the Hudson River from New York City. Albany is a hub for commercial trade in its region, due to its proximity to the New York State Barge Canal and its excellent inland transportation network.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The new camera was a little awkward to handle at first, and I was self conscious of it as well. This was a big “honking” camera, weighing four times what my familiar “rangefinder-sized” G10 did. I practiced tracking the tugboat with it, zooming in and out and so on. I think the shots came out alright- if you click through to the photo’s Flickr page and check out its larger incarnations- you’ll see some real detail in them. This is one of the places where the higher megapixel count of the Canon matters to me, and justified buying into its franchise.
Trust me on this one, I’m an advertising retoucher photoshop guy by day, and resolution matters. A lot.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’m only a couple of thousand shots in, a month later. Its been a busy month somehow, with holiday obligation and hiding in my warm burrow awaiting spring. Meanwhile, I’ll be learning how to use this new gizmo.
Incidentally, on the subject of gizmos, anyone out there have anything to say on geotagging? Leave me a comment or contact me, if you do.
Gangster town
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’m hooked on a few basic cable crime “reality shows” at the moment, as I sit out the “dark and cold” season. My favorite of these entertainments, so far, is the lurid charm of “Mobsters“. Cheaply produced by overseas staff, the show presents a basic reportage of the New York organized crime story- as told by federeal prosecutors for an international audience. A topical and shallow montage of the “official” story is what TV shows such as “best of breed” “Mobsters” present, as it were or as I’ve termed it- Mobster-Porn.
What I find interesting about the storytelling technique of these shows are the usage of long tracking shots featuring Astoria which underpin the narrative. The shot above, for instance, is similar to one of the mobster-porn standbys. Usually this is used to demonstrate an ethnic neighborhood, a tracking shot interspersed with depression era stock footage of the lower east side, which birthed the racketeer focused on in a particular week’s episode.
Ironically, this is one of the nicest blocks in all of Astoria, a nearly suburban lane which abuts Astoria Park.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In the past, I’ve mentioned that Newtown Pentacle HQ is housed in a Matthews Model Flat “new model tenement” apartment. The particular block I live on is the setting of much of “A Bronx Tale“- Sonny’s Bar (in reality a Karate Studio) is on the corner, as is the apartment house Robert DeNiro was meant to live in. The church seen in the film is St. Joseph’s and the funeral home is across the street from it on 30th avenue. The school attended by the kids in the film is a block away as well. Area delis and restaurants proudly sport pictures of the great actor stuffing their wares into himself and exhibiting his trademark grin.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Of course the hollywood angle in using Astoria for its location shoots is that the older housing stock and relict buildings of the ancient village are reminiscent of what Manhattan once looked like. The radical theory of Urban Renewal practiced in the 20th century, which has only just gotten around to Long Island City and North Brooklyn using the alias “up-zoning”, wiped out the old “New York” in Manhattan.
Ironically, many of the Racketeers showcased by “Mobsters” made the predominance of their fortunes in enterprises that were directly related to this Urban Renewal. Gambling was their primary source of income before the politicians offered up lucrative construction and carting work in the 50’s, especially a certain racket called “the numbers”. Ahh, the good old days…
Fascination with the “outlaw” archetype is buried deeply in the psyche of westerners, but trust me when I say that to be in the presence of such characters is actually not very much fun. Its a little scary hanging out with people for whom killing other people is “just another day at the office”. It’s not just the mobsters that make me nervous, of course, off-duty cops and soldiers also make me uneasy. I’m no warrior.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The effect of this media imagery on the kids of the ancient village is profound. Admittedly, their major cultural influences in the decadent 21st century emanate from the violent gang cultures of the 1990’s, but maturing in an age which delights in youtube cruelty and televised urban warfare has had risible effects on the latest New Yorkers.
Of course, they aren’t acting like real gangsters, just emulating things that they see on TV- acting like actors acting like gangsters. A lot of blood gets spilled in this kabuki, but that’s all it really is, as the old rackets don’t pay as well as they used to and the new ones have a high mortality rate. Crime went official back in the 70’s, anyway, when Lotto was invented and the politicians muscled their way into the numbers. The government will be getting into the “new rackets” soon enough- organ brokering and drug legalization come to mind.
Modern New Yorkers know who runs the modern numbers racket, because the citizenry is always forced to pay “mob tax” in gangstertown, no matter who collects it. There’s only two warring crime families left these days, and they’re headquartered at executive palaces in Albany- not sipping espresso in some outer borough Salumeria.
The Newtown Pentacle 