Archive for the ‘Pickman’ Category
old and exalted
A night time trip to Greenwood Cemetery with the Obscura Society, part two.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As discussed in yesterday’s post, an opportunity to join up with Atlas Obscura’s excursion to the Stephen Whitney monument at Greenwood Cemetery in Brooklyn presented itself. As is my habit, a profusion of photographs were captured while in the cemetery, which was encased in a foggy environment with little to no artificial light beyond that produced by the handheld lanterns and candles set out by the Obscura Society.
from wikipedia
Stephen Whitney (1776–1860) was one of the wealthiest merchants in New York City in the first half of the 19th century. His fortune was considered second only to that of John Jacob Astor. As a prominent citizen of the rapidly growing city, he helped to build some of its institutions, including the Merchants’ Exchange Building, the first permanent home of the New York stock exchange.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
At the Whitney monument itself, a refreshment was offered, and Allison Meier finished up her narration releasing the crowd to heterogeneous mingling. Your humble narrator had grown chill from the humid November night, but nevertheless continued to exploit this rare opportunity to visit with the tomb legions and night gaunts with the cemetery gates locked behind me.
from 1853’s Rules and regulations of the Green-wood cemetery; with a catalogue of proprietors, courtesy archive.org
” A correct idea, expressed in marble, may be very beautiful, so long as it is unique ; but by too frequent imitation, and in too close proximity with its original, it may destroy the charm of the first, and ultimately raise feelings in the beholder the reverse of those desired.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Stephen Whitney was the second richest man in New York City, and this is the monument he built to himself. He married into the Suydam family, a lineage of note dating back to that primeval era of the Dutch decadence when New York was called New Amsterdam.
from 1898’s Hendrick Rycken, the progenitor of the Suydam family in America. A monograph, courtesy archive.org
Hendrick Rycken had been preceded by other members of his family. The Annals of Newtown, page 301, reads : “When New Netherland invited the virtuous and the daring to seek a home in her wilds, several of the Rikers joined the adventurers coming hither. These were Abraham, Gysbert, Rynier, and Hendrick Rycken, the last of whom came out a few years after the others, and was the ancestor of the Suydam family, his sons assuming that name.” Hence the Riker genealogy is the same as that of the Suydams ; and the heraldry, the noble German ancestry extending back to the eleventh century ; these ancestors’ participation in the First Crusade, as ofificers in the army of Walter the Penniless, are equally their pride and glory.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The timed event was over, and the crew from Atlas Obscura needed to ferry the excursion participants back to the locked gates of Greenwood. I offered to stick around and “watch the stuff” while they did so, allowing a humble narrator a little “alone time.” I set up the tripod and got down to it, as I was alone in Greenwood for a spell.
from nytimes.com
At noon, yesterday, Mr. STEPHEN WHITNEY, one of the oldest and wealthiest of our citizens, died at his residence in Bowling-green. Some of his intimate friends state that he was but 70 years of age, while others affirm that he had completed his 80th year. He entered business, in this City, at an early period of his life, and has always been considered strictly upright in his dealings, but at the same time close and sharp in effecting bargains. These characteristics laid the foundation for a fortune which has accumulated of late years, until it is estimated at the enormous amount of $8,000,000.
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formal studies
A night time trip to Greenwood Cemetery with the Obscura Society, part one.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As mentioned in prior postings, your humble narrator has been in a bit of rut of late, so when the Atlas Obscura crew announced an opportunity for nocturnal exploration of Greenwood Cemetery over in Brooklyn was at hand, one jumped at the chance and leapt upon a Q train which would carry me to the Gowanus Heights.
from wikipedia
Green-Wood Cemetery was founded in 1838 as a rural cemetery in Kings County, New York. It was granted National Historic Landmark status in 2006 by the U.S. Department of the Interior.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The event was conducted by Alison Meier and Megan Roberts of the Atlas crew, and involved stopping at several notable or exalted mausolea and monuments while moving inexorably towards the grandiose structure on Ocean Hill which caps those catacombs housing the mortal remains of the Whitney family.
from wikipedia
Stephen Whitney (1776–1860) was one of the wealthiest merchants in New York City in the first half of the 19th century. His fortune was considered second only to that of John Jacob Astor. As a prominent citizen of the rapidly growing city, he helped to build some of its institutions, including the Merchants’ Exchange Building, the first permanent home of the New York stock exchange.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A full moon certainly hung somewhere beyond the occluded sky, but a tenebrous fog had set in. Palpable darkness and flickering illumination lent an air of dread purpose to this perambulation of the notable polyandrion of New York. The fog, which did not smell of salt or wholesome sea, drove the airborne humidity levels up to 90% and higher, causing your humble narrator to perspire both precipitously and persistently. The chill temperatures worked with that moisture absorbed by my clothing, from both atmosphere and bodily secretion, to slowly drain all the energy reserves one such as myself can hope to claim.
from wikipedia
Fear is an emotion induced by a perceived threat which causes entities to quickly pull far away from it and usually hide. It is a basic survival mechanism occurring in response to a specific stimulus, such as pain or the threat of danger. In short, fear is the ability to recognize danger leading to an urge to confront it or flee from it (also known as the fight-or-flight response) but in extreme cases of fear (horror and terror) a freeze or paralysis response is possible.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Allison Meier led the group, narrating in the orange light of hand held lanterns, occasionally producing an electric flashlight for the purpose of illuminating this significant thing or that important monument. I will mention that the shot above was from sometime between 8:30 and 11 P.M., in November, as are all the shots in this series of posts. It was dark, as in “tenebrous dark”, and any ambient light extant was being swallowed up by the fog. Tripod shots weren’t really possible on the walk, and flash was out of the question because of the aforementioned fog.
from wikipedia
Necrophobia is a specific phobia which is the irrational fear of dead things (e.g., corpses) as well as things associated with death (e.g., coffins, tombstones). Necrophobia is derived from Greek nekros (νεκρός) for “corpse” and -phob- from the Greek phobos (φόβος) for “fear.” With all types of emotions, obsession with death becomes evident in both fascination and objectification.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
After a breath taking (literally, Greenwoood is very hilly) walk, the group finally arrived at the Whitney Mausoleum, which was ablaze with the light of candles. So then, at that moment, was the Obscura Society adjured to enter the crypt.
from wikipedia
A mausoleum is an external free-standing building constructed as a monument enclosing the interment space or burial chamber of a deceased person or people. A monument without the interment is a cenotaph. A mausoleum may be considered a type of tomb or the tomb may be considered to be within the mausoleum. A Christian mausoleum sometimes includes a chapel.
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not conjecture
Preternatural darkness and solemnitude, that’s the ticket.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Under assault from all quarters, condemned to waiting for everyone else to finish eating before I might scoop up discarded scraps from beneath the master’s table, go I. Seldom considered except as an after thought, your humble narrator is nevertheless always watching from the depth of shadow, day and night alike- staring out through a monocular lens. If most knew what I’ve met lurking out here, in the night, they would stoutly lock their windows and doors. Shadowed groups of anonymous men huddle in doorways, whispering to each other in languages which were ancient in the Americas in the uncounted millennia before Columbus, lit only by sodium lamps on high.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A wandering mendicant, clad in a filthy black raincoat and armored in a skin of calcified scar tissue, the cold waste offers naught but nepenthe to one such as myself. Industrial quarters, such as the ill fortuned section of Long Island City pictured in todays posting which are routinely transversed and travelled by this lonely pedestrian, offer nothing but opportunity when the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself is occluded by the earth. The sodium lamp illumination be damned, City Hall has declared, and all the street lamps will soon be replaced with newer and so called energy efficient ones. One worries about the impending arrival of these LED street lamps in NYC, and the sociological and psychological effects which the cold flicker and narrow wavelengths of light typically offered by such devices will have on the human hive.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It is a firm belief, dearly held, that it is possible to induce madness architecturally. If this statement strikes you as hyperbole, consider how the crypto fascist teachings of LeCorbusier led to the creation of the monolithic columns of the city housing projects and the cultural degradations suffered by those whom fate has entrapped within them. When all of NewYork is awash in LED light, with its peculiarly cool color and perceptual flickering bouncing to and from the mirror walls of condominium towers, what will their strange radiances do to the minds of those of us who dwell in the deep nocturne? Don’t worry about me, I like it dark and scary, and enjoy the expressions of madness and the exultation of chaos which the humans create.
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retreat directly
Lament, for fresh posts begin anew.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It’s my curse, I guess. Always an outsider, and asked to leave the room so that the grown ups can talk seriously. Not that another stodgy, labored, and somewhat boring conversation is actually something I’d like to participate in, mind you, but one grows tired of sitting in the cheap seats after awhile and the next person who tells me how shit I am is going to be very, very surprised at what I say back.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One does enjoy watching them gesture and display for each other, as they roil and rumble. Pack mentality rules both canine and primate behavior, presumptively, with both species weeding out their sick or weakened members. Nature of the beast, I guess.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Dispassionate is the way a humble narrator rolls, and my function is as an observer. Look at the lens, not at me, as I’m not here.
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no exit
Maritime Sunday leaves every thirty minutes.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The seldom considered Staten Island Ferry – the most popular tourist destination in New York City – transiting forth and back from St. George on… Staten Island… to the Whitehall terminal located on the island of Manhattan. This shot from the archives depicts the latter leg of the transit, and provides for the opportunity to offer a rousing Maritime Sunday “huzzah” to the crews that handle the job.
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The Newtown Pentacle 