Archive for the ‘Long Island City’ Category
Massive NYC 2009 Marathon Photo set
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The 2009 NYC Marathon came hurtling through Long Island City just this past Sunday, which was November the First- which is also the celebrated anniversary of the abdication of the last Sultan of the House of Osman, and World Vegan Day. A fairly detailed posting about the 2008 Marathon which has lots of history on the race and running, as well as discussion of the Physical Culture movement, can be accessed here.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Arriving early, a conspiritor and I nonchalantly greeted the small army of affable NYPD personnel, and mounted the Pulaski Bridge. At around 9am, the disabled competitors came barreling through. I can’t really think of what to call these devices. Wheelchair just doesn’t do technology like this justice. Affably, the NYPD then asked us to clear off the bridge.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I followed the course as the Marathon runners blasted along. For me, the real show is always the sideline, but I shot a lot of pictures of the competitors between 9 and 12:30 in Long Island City.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
If you’re a 2009 NYC marathon runner, looking for photos you might be in, click here to reach a huge set at flickr with the full range of shots.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
All along the route, bands were playing. This kid with the Tuba was in a school band that just finished playing “Play that funky music, white boy”.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hard rock bands also lined the route- these iconic minstrels were staked out directly across the street from the Citibank Megalith. The runners, toward the ever shadowed cobbles of sin pitted Queens Plaza, were Manhattan bound.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
In a Dark… room
Oh the pain… developing the photos shot at the 2009 NY Marathon hurts…
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I got there early, and actually managed to shoot not only the disabled competitors, but was in position when the “head of the snake” first came through LIC.
Head of the Pack, 2009 men’s Marathon- photo by Mitch Waxman
I’ll have the whole batch ready by tomorrow. As well, knowledgeable friends have weighed in on our Halloween posting, and I’ll be posting their input later on tonight.
Head of the Pack, 2009 women’s Marathon – photo by Mitch Waxman
They’ll all be dropping into this set at flickr, over the course of the next 24 hours. You also won’t believe some of what I saw at Calvary, later in the afternoon.
Open Sesame, Pulaski, Says A Me
Just as a note, this is the 100th post at Newtown Pentacle.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The burning thermonuclear eye of the Newtown sun burst through the occluding clouds of a murky sky, as I crossed the Pulaski Bridge. With the objective of Queens in sight, barriers suddenly sprang into action, and alarm bells rang. The motive engines of the Pulaski began grinding in those deep pilings sunken on both sides of that vexing mystery called the Newtown Creek, and the roadway of the Bascule bridge rose… ominously.
Newtown Pentacle did a fairly thorough posting on the Pulaski Bridge a while back called DUPBO, check it out here.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The basso horn of an unidentified tug drew the attentions of that small group of obstructed pedestrians and unlucky cyclists which I found myself a part of. In the central lanes of the bridge, angry drivers changed automotive gears from drive to park. Some switched off their engine ignitions and muttered obscene phrases in a great variety of tongues.
A bascule drawbridge of paralell counterweight design, the Pulaski Bridge was overseen by New York City Commissioner of Public Works Frederick Zurmuhlen, and the general contractor was the Horn Construction Company, with steel and expertise supplied by Bethlehem Steel. It opened in September of 1954 at a cost of $9,664,446.25- a reconstruction of the bridge in 1994 cost $40 million. It carries six lanes of vehicular traffic, and is a primary link between north Brooklyn and western Queens.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Clumsily, I climbed atop the roadway barrier, in an attempt to gain a better vantage. Normally, this would be a death defying balancing act, as traffic would be hurtling out of Long Island City at many times the posted speed limit. Even so, the mere 3 and one half foot elevation was enough to set off my timid side of nature, and vertigo nearly claimed me.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This lone tugboat, which I cannot identify, is heading up the creek empty. This would suggest its coming to pick up a barge, but your guess is as good as mine.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The inner works of the bridge as it extends to its euclidean apex. The stresses inflicted on the superstructure of this bridge by such actions are beyond my meager ability to calculate, as tons of steel move effortlessly into position and into a shaky balance.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The tug passed by, as I could tell by the action of my ears, but was occluded visually by the bridge’s roadway. The struggles of its engines as they churned those hatefully gelatin waters of the Newtown Creek caused vibrations which shuddered out as they traveled against the raised members of the Pulaski Bridge.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Overcome by the unique harmonic and its drug-like effects upon my overly sensitive equilibrium, I missed the Tug’s passage by seconds (in the center of the above shot), due to both a bungled manipulation and inexpert handling of camera settings.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Bells rang out again, and the Pulaski bridge transformed itself back into a vehicular roadway, and the steel wall of Long Island City appeared.
Proof and Postulates
Elevated Subway Tracks leaving Queens Plaza, with Queensborough offramp in background- from 23rd street, LIC – photo by Mitch Waxman
One day in August of 2009, a time when the rainy and cool weather that had typified the early summer was finally ended, and under the burning thermonuclear gaze of god itself – which once again stared down upon the Newtown Pentacle unoccluded- I decided to take a little walk down to LIC.
Given the star born waves of heat observed as they shimmered up from the pavement- on my journey from splendor filled Astoria- I opted to navigate down 23rd street and take advantage of the shade as provided by an elevated track tenanted by the 7 line subway, which springs about the area and hurtles noisomely overhead.
Citibank Megalith from 23rd street, LIC – photo by Mitch Waxman
This street is “behind the curtain” down in Long Island City, and I refer to it in my notes as “the fedora district”. The latter nomenclature is purely my own whimsy, as it looks just like a relict set piece from some 1930’s movie, and in that cinematic era- men wore hats (fedoras in particular). 23rd street is festooned, appropriately, with security cameras and other devices whose function it is to vouchsafe both the subway tracks and… the megalith… from the attentions of anarchists, vandals, and foreign elements who have all sworn expiation and vengeance upon the multinational financial institution residing in the megalith, whose activities they will describe as being some sort of rapacious pillaging of the developing world.
The megalith with its dark lord- a blood drinking juggernaut thing that does not think… or breathe… but which stares down, in the manner of a predator, upon the world of men- with its unblinking and flame shrouded eye– will be discussed in later posts.
I would rather direct you to Heidi Neilson’s “LIC sundial” project, which has caught my fancy and which I believe to be quite a clever bit of thinking.
Warehouse Operation 23rd street – photo by Mitch Waxman
An industrial stretch, 23rd street is home to many warehouse and small factory operations. A theater group maintains a space nearby, and there are multiple Taxi depots along its length, taking advantage of its proximity to the “back door” onramps of the Queensboro bridge which leverage a drivers trip into Manhattan down to mere minutes. Silvercup studios is nearby, as well as a few vocational schools which are operated by local trade unions. Its a fairly deserted area from a pedestrian vantage, but considerable amounts of vehicular traffic are often observed. Not too long ago, these buildings housed elephantine examples of industry. In modernity, they have been divided up for the industrial mice who formerly scurried about on the streets and habitated back alleys.
23rd street, Project Firebox 7838 – photo by Mitch Waxman
Glimpses of the megalopolis beyond the river can be had along 23rd street, but I’ve always found it to be a difficult exposure to pull off. Perhaps, someday, as I develop technical acumen and acquire more sophisticated equipment… but my shortcomings are often the result of my own nature. Drawn to the esoteric and bizarre, since the first postings here at Newtown Pentacle- a common gnomen and meme espoused by your humble narrator has been “who can guess, what it is, that may be hidden down there?”.
Also, in detail choked and exasperatingly phrased paragraphs, you’ve been subjected to the haunting revelation that the ground in New York is “not actually the ground”, but the roof of a vast structure which is anywhere between 15 and 30 feet from the actual surface.
Construction site at confluence of 23rd street, 45th road, and Jackson Avenue – at the 45th rd. Courthouse stop on the 7 elevated subway station – photo by Mitch Waxman
This is one of the ancient places. Along Jackson Avenue, a block from the rail- less than a mile from Newtown Creek- a couple of blocks from the courthouse- 4 blocks from the Queensboro bridge.
Construction site at confluence of 23rd street, 45th road, and Jackson Avenue – at the 45th rd. Courthouse stop on the 7 elevated subway station – photo by Mitch Waxman
Hazy, and somewhat enigmatic- the facts of this project seem to stem from two municipal endeavors. One is a track replacement being conducted by the MTA for the elevated subway, the other is some sort of combined sewer replacement and sidewalk widening project being shepherded by the Queens Borough President’s office and the DOB. For my purposes though, this project serves as a cutaway diagram for the underworld of Long Island City.
Construction site at confluence of 23rd street, 45th road, and Jackson Avenue – at the 45th rd. Courthouse stop on the 7 elevated subway station – photo by Mitch Waxman
Several large building projects are underway in nearby Queens Plaza, and the second avenue subway extension combined with the East Side Access LIRR project are furiously moving forward. If all goes according to plan, a new LIRR station will be sited at the Skillman Avenue/Queens Boulevard intersection at the Sunnyside Railyard. The large hotels that have been springing up in Dutch Kills and Queens Plaza are symptomatic anticipations of the future presence of tens of thousands of commuters and tourists in the area. Unfortunately, all of these projects face Manhattan and ignore that rust choked loam of the good earth here in Queens.
The picture below, I think, is the best illustration of one of those central postulates which governs the logic by which the Newtown Pentacle operates- once more- Who can guess, what it is, that may be hidden down there? Click the photo to go to flickr, and click the all sizes button, to zoom into the image and explore the underworld.
Construction site at confluence of 23rd street, 45th road, and Jackson Avenue – at the 45th rd. Courthouse stop on the 7 elevated subway station – photo by Mitch Waxman
Anecdote-
I used to live in Manhattan. A building I resided in was the Whitehall Hotel, where once the NY Giants maintained rooms close to the legendary Polo Grounds. One of my many college jobs was as a third shift doorman at this place, which secured a generous arrangement with the owner on leasing an apartment there years later, and on one occasion I was asked to go find the superintendant of the building who was down in one of the sub-basements. Now, the oil room resovoir in this place was (1980’s) a noxious brick pit with an open surface, loosely covered with ill fitting and rusty hinged iron plates. Said petroleum, when hatches had been thrown back, collected a varied assortment of vermin which had been trapped in the sticky fuel. Forming a sort of upper west side Labrea Tar Pit, there were several chambers below it- allowing egress to oil valves, pumps, and ancient sewer connections. This was 5 flights down below the lobby.
Slime dripping timbers were visible in the lowest level, which the Super – an affable southerner, navy man, and former pugilist named Cappy (who had come to New York in the 1950’s as part of that well commented-upon 20th century migration enacted by African American southerners to the cities of the industrialized north) – said the visible timbers were but a section of those piles that had been driven down during construction of the enormous structure in the early part of the century. In his syrupy and pleasant patois, Cappy told me to put my head close to the wood and listen, and to my astonishment, the sound of tidal action could be heard. Cappy reported this as being the sound of the nearby Hudson, and mentioned that a river or stream ran under Broadway to this day. This Broadway water was no small nuisance for him, causing flooding during snowmelt and storms.
Maspeth? Laurel Hill? Where am I?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The angles found between neighborhoods are perilous and enigmatic, here in the Newtown Pentacle. Denigrated and given over to commercial interests, these areas which are neither here nor there- tick nor tock- exist outside of the normal rules that govern the more wholesome and presentable villages that surround them. Just to the south and east lies storied Maspeth, due south is centuried Greenpoint and colonial East Williamsburg, north is venerable Sunnyside and luminant Astoria.
The hill one climbs- the shot above is looking up said hill, and the one below is its counterpoint– was called Laurel in those days when august titans like Neziah Bliss strode the earth with omnipotent confidence in the future. So close to the Newtown Creek’s industrial heartland and Calvary Cemetery, one gains an impression of an undefinable sickness hanging about every malformed plant and pollution streaked brick. Hints of its former glory can be detected by observing an ornate cornice of finely carved masonry, or in proud cast iron logotypes found in rusted pilasters, atavistically claiming a structure for a long bankrupt company or proud individual proprietor.
There is a colour about the place. A queer iridescence, neither black nor white, which is the same sort of colour found in the Newtown Creek. It is not a terrestrial colour, the colour… is like something from outer space.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
43rd street continues its murderous and poorly graded ascent over the sickly hill, its sidewalk and street scribed with automotive fluids and petroleum residues. At the bottom of the hill is where copper was burnt out of its ore matrix using powerful acids for over a century. In previous explorative descriptions of the larger context of this place, I described a pathway around and into Calvary Cemetery and beyond. This exploration intersects with that one, and with another describing the Maspeth Plank Road.
This colour, it pollutes, and it has a smell- something metallic- like the sensation of licking a battery.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Late, too late, had I set out for my journey through this place. The barking of hungry dogs and the scurrying of small things which, for the sake of my sanity, we’ll call rats- could be heard from behind the gates and within the very walls of the shuttered properties. I realized that, immersed as I was in my historical musings, I was completely alone on this street- there was no traffic. Always nervous and possessed of a weak psychological constitution which makes me prone to paranoid fantasy and physical cowardice, I decided to seek out the safety of companions and quicken my steps.
The effusive colour of the place, stronger now as I ascended Laurel Hill, was playing on my nerves. In my mind, I felt a growing warmth which was puzzlingly dry- and somehow cold as well- a disorienting and very bad idea forming in my mind. The colour.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Seeking a guidepost, the obsequious spires of Manhattan could be seen rising over Calvary. With the BQE onramp for the Kosciuzko Bridge thrumming- in rythmic sense impacts- as vehicular traffic pulsed over the rough hewn and pitted slabs of masonry from which the road surface of that busy highway carried by the bridge is built, I had a moment of clarity and somewhat regained my senses. The odd colour, it was visibly not present over -or in- Calvary, whose plants and trees sway accordingly to the direction of the wind, not against it. A fever overtook my thoughts and I feared one of my “episodes” was beginning.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Resting for a moment by a garbage bin whose inner sounds filled me with a malevolent premonition, I noticed that people actually do live here. Lovely, well cared for, and huge houses can be witnessed on 43rd street.
A testament to the character and resiliency of Newtownicans- these holdouts of a time when hard men and ironclad women bit into life with shining teeth, live in the middle of an area reviled and shunned by most. This is at most 2-3,000 feet from either Phelps Dodge and Calvary, and within shooting distance of an industrial waterfront fallen on hard times. Only those who move into the new housing units proposed for Hunters Point will be able to boast of living closer to the bulkheads of the Newtown Creek.
Except for this guy.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
At the summit of the hill, whose attainment by a physical specimen as poor as myself is a breathless experience, a highway cloverleaf cuts 43rd street off at 54th avenue- and the road offers a right hand turn that continues to climb higher. Especially prevalent here, the colour adorns the illegally dumped truck and automobile tires and variegated forms of construction debris that accompany all dead end streets in western Queens. Squamous little bushes adorn the curblines, and potholes mark the asphalt. In those cavities, cobble stones are illuminated by the merciless Newtown sun, revealing an earlier world which our modernity increasingly seems to be a cheaply wrought imitation of.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Following the erratic and illogically sharp curve of the 54th ave., which matches the arc of the highway that has precedent right of way- and cuts this area off from the surrounding communities- the colour persisted.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Be sure to look all around you here. Spectacular views of Manhattan are to the west, and you are standing pretty close to the top of the hill.
At this elevation, we are actually looking right over Long Island CIty and the Newtown Creek which are close to or at sea level.
I have always lived in terror of some seismic event or industrial accident disturbing the vast deposits of the subaqueous Methane Clathrates in the New York Bight. This potential petrochemical replacement for oil is so plentiful in the waters surrounding New York State that many energy companies are exploring methods of economically harvesting it. The Saudi Arabia of these undersea “ice which burns”, incidentally, just happens to be the northeast coast of North America. Were there to be a sudden upwelling of these frozen gases, it would trigger a tsunami wave that would flood New York City’s lowlands in a way that would dwarf… well- it has happened in the past.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Relict building stock abounds, but remain occupied. I attempted conversation with an area resident found on a different block, a skeletal man in his early 40’s, but noticed that the colour seemed to be dancing around in his eyes and his complexion was wan and jaundiced. I asked him- Is this Maspeth, or Laurel Hill? In a nervous whisper, he informed me that he didn’t know- then glanced over his shoulder into a house- and asked me if I knew that he knew that I know that he knows that I know that he knows I was a cop.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I said “yes”, and moved along. I’m not a cop.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Everything I saw here was eaten away at by that damned dry cold hot colour- a queerly iridescent patina so familiar to those inveterate observers of the Newtown Creek and its environs.
Who can guess what this home of former style and antiquarian taste saw- its joyous weddings and births, the tragedy of its funerals and disease. How many families welcomed their sons home from war, or sent their daughters off to college from this place? What heroic immigrant struggle played out between the clapboard walls? And when did this colour begin to manifest itself here, and why?
I cannot believe it just fell from the sky one night.
Whatever happened here, its all gone. Lost to time and dissolution and the tyranny of the silent tomb. Like so much of our Newtown history, these tales will be unremarked and forgotten.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Still looking for Greenpoint, Williamsburg, Bushwick, Maspeth, Astoria, LIC, Elmhurst, Newtown Ghost Stories- by the way- Halloween is coming. Send anything you’d like to share to me privately through this address. I’ll contact you back and we’ll arrange details, you’re as anonymous as you’d like to be. Developing a multi witness one right now, which folks in the 40’s along 34th avenue and Broadway in Astoria have described. Have you seen “her”?
The Newtown Pentacle 