Archive for January 2014
rusty impediments
Your motive is loco, man.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
So few places to go, no one to see. The gray frigidity has me down, lords and ladies, and it is not impossible that over the last few weeks, I’ve watched everything on Netflix- including a couple of episodes of “Power Rangers Jungle Fury.” Playing with the cords on my hoodie, counting the floor tiles, bored. That’s me. Cabin Fever, I think they call it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Been reading lots of good stuff, including a marathon exploration of the dissimilar topics of leprosy and the genetic consequences of multi generational incest- both of which led to the Hapsburgs. None of this relates one little bit to the history of Newtown Creek nor Queens, which actually has been my intention. Little projects like mine tend to drag you down a long drill hole, and you become so focused that you lose sight of the bigger picture… which somehow includes leprosy and incest.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Its cheerier reading than I normally do during this time of year, when my google searches have historically included “stages of putrefaction of cadaver” and “common practices of yeast distillation in 19th century america.” Hey, a guy gets curious about things. Its better to know something, well… some things… than to remain willfully ignorant about unpleasantries.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
Project Firebox 102
An ongoing catalog of New York’s endangered Fireboxes.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Perpetual darkness is the lot of this lonely firebox, found over on the outskirts of Woodside. Apartment monoliths on one side, highways on the other, it seems to be in a delitorious state of repair as evinced by the way its alarm handle is deployed. Better days await us all, my friends, better days spent gamboling about in the sunny corridors of Queens.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
tossed and tattered
A cool vantage at the foot of the Maspeth Plateau.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One of the neat things about Western Queens is all about its declination and altitude. The terminal moraine of Long Island sets itself up starting over in Maspeth near Mt. Olivette cemetery, and a surprising rise in the level of the land becomes apparent. I’m particularly sensitive to such phenomena having grown up in a section of Brooklyn called “Flatlands” which is right next door to “Flatbush” and several communities whose names end in basin, island, or beach. That’s the south eastern flood plain, Astoria and Hunters Point are the north western- its Maspeth and Middle Village which are the start of the high ground. That’s why the Dutch came here first.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
These hillocks are bordered in modernity, unfortunately, by highways such as the Long Island Expressway – which swallowed up the otherwise wholesome Borden Avenue’s historic right of way. There is a pedestrian bridge which will carry one over the highway, which is where today’s shots were captured. When I was up there, I found a Bernie hole.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Bernie Ente was, amongst other things, a photographer who lived pretty close to this spot in Maspeth. Bernie was always annoyed by fences that obscured his shots, and would sometimes open a hole just big enough to stick a lens through. There’s still a few of his holes found in the industrial fencelines around Newtown Creek, some of which I’ve shared with others, and some I keep to myself.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This is the view from the Bernie Hole over the Long Island Expressway. I think I might come back here with a tripod sometime, when a dramatic sky presents itself. Of course, if you want some strange looks and accusing stares thrown your way, walk around Maspeth at night with a dslr. I swear, a cadre of old ladies followed me from Maurice all the way to Middle Village the other night, convinced that I held some instrument of gleaming death within my camera bag.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
wisely advised
Another year gone and deeper in debt.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Repent! is something which one has always wanted to shout at strangers, whilst wearing a sandwich board that proclaims dire future times and the arrival of an era of tribulation. A declaration of steadfast faith is what that would be, and I don’t really believe in anything except Superman, so my argument for repentance would hardly be convincing unless it involved Braniac. These are all imaginary characters, of course, so my supposition is silly.
Looking out my Astoria apartment’s window on Christmas Eve, this imaginary character was observed moving casually down the avenue towards the subway. Perhaps steadfast faith in not believing in anything is as silly as believing in Father Christmas or Braniac, especially when one of them walks past your house?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The little break enjoyed over the last couple of weeks has been refreshing, if fattening.
Ribald Christmas gatherings and feasts have been attended, and all met have been basted with cheery sentiment and seasonally appropriate call and response exchanges (merry christmas, happy new year, kwazy kwaanza etc.). Fear that my disingenuous lack of holiday spirit was apparent to all manifests in me, but what can one such as myself say to such accusation, other than stating that I do not – in fact – care?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Not too much of interest passed before me, at least that was worth photographing.
This giant pile of blood appeared in my path just last week, across the street from Doughboy Park in Woodside. Could have been a bloody nose, I suppose. Stab, maybe? I’ll get the boys in forensics on it when they’re back next week.
Speaking of Doughboy Park, (I’m talking to you George the Atheist) weren’t they supposed to repaint that day glow green stuff which appeared here last year?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I have no information on the blood, other than it tasted like Type A and whoever spilled it really needs to cut down on the fried food. The flavor profile was quite salty/fatty, and it smelled like freedom fries, but the stuff had a nice mouth feel to it.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
elder world
Another archive shot, one of my faves.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
That’s the New York Paving Company down there, in DUGABO (Down Under the Greenpoint Avenue Bridge Onramp), in Blissville, Queens. The Newtown Creek, loquaciously, lurks in its ancient bed of silt and clay as it has always been wont to do.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
The Newtown Pentacle 