Archive for the ‘Queens Plaza’ Category
uncouth syllables
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The dark months of the winter offer few opportunities for me to go out shooting, as the times when “the light is good” are limited to an hour or two in the morning (I’m a late riser) and a similar interval in the mid afternoon. Luckily, during one of these narrow moments recently, I found myself in Long Island City in an area which I refer to as “the Fedora District”.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The trick with light during the winter all comes down to the angle of the sun. The sky flung monoliths and tall slabs of masonry which distinguish New York City are illuminated in a harsh fashion during the winter months, resulting in deep shadow adjoining light blasted highlights. At the end and beginning of the day, however, the sun hangs low in the sky and provides long and cooly colored shadows interacting with bright and often orange illumination.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Miserably dim nevertheless, the sun appears bright to the human eye, but photographic pursuits betray its dimness. Sacrifices in image fidelity and the presence of visible grain brought on by high ISO settings annoy me, and the aforementioned darkness coupled with an omnipresent atmospheric haze force me to avoid the long depth of field and detailed clarity which I normally attempt to capture, so I focus in on the near rather than the far during the winter.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’m one of those people who carries a camera everywhere I go, a practice which causes no end of annoyance to those whom I encounter on a daily basis. An obstacle which has been very difficult to overcome, now conquered, is the violation of the social normative which one encounters when whipping out “the rig” and clicking away in the midst of the vast human hive.
There are some, often members of various branches of law enforcement, who perceive my interest in recording the daily round as an act of aggression and suspicious at best.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The thing is, and allow me to wax a bit more rhapsodically than usual here, is that Long Island City as we know it today will be inextricably altered (as it already has been) within the next decade and that time grows short to record and document the transition. Will the future know about the gruff beauty of the place, or the delicate interplay of reflected sunlight upon centuries old wood, as they wander about an antiseptic landscape of glass and steel?
When the Sapphire Megalith is a relict, and the ever watching thing that dwells at its apex has grown senile and blind, will anyone remember what this place once was?
chilly depths
– photo by Mitch Waxman
One of my little hobbies involves the recording of manhole covers, the large iron discs which act as a removable hatch for access tunnels to the stygian world of infrastructure that underlies the streets of New York City. Often, the cover will betray the age of the street, indicate the company or municipal organ that installed it, and provide some subtext to the relict building stock adjoins them.
This post isn’t about manholes, however, it’s about a beautiful bit of street art recently observed in the Dutch Kills neighborhood nearby the legend choked Queens Plaza.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This bit of graffiti surpasses the normal tags and scrawled affirmations common to the so called art form, due to its masterful draftsmanship and painterly quality. My own background in commercial illustration makes me a bit of snob when it comes to drawing, and this more than passes my rigid and stoic standards.
Owing allegiance more to Arisman than to Bode, this is no “cheech wizard smoking a doobie”.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Check out the wonderful contour line drawing in the elephant, and the gorgeous use of highlight and tone in the face. Nice, nice work. Whoever the artist(s) is, they have a wonderful touch. This sort of thing is normally the province of Ms. Heather at NY-Shitty, as Newtown Pentacle seldom focuses on street art, and perhaps she might be able to identify the artist.
Normally, presentation of graffitis is only engendered when it is enigmatic or curious, suggests the hidden occult, or is a blatant example of time and opportunity available at a transportation center.
forgotten hands
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On another one of the long marches across the concrete desolations of Western Queens, it occurred to me that I should pay more attention to the steel fingers of the Great Machine than has been formerly applied. This is a problematic notion, of course, as we live in the age of terror- and taking pictures of transportation infrastructure is largely frowned upon by governmental institutions such as the NYPD for understandable and prosaic reasons.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Part of my outlandish sense of entitlement, imagined largesse, and pompous self importance demands that I do not allow such entities to inhibit my activities.
I’m happy to be questioned by the gendarme whenever they might approach me with queries as to identity and purpose. Law demands that a citizen must carry some form of identification, otherwise the police may detain you with the intention of assessing your identity (for a limited period of time), which is something I always comply with. No such law allows law enforcement to demand that you show them what you’re shooting (they need a warrant for this kind of search), explain why you’re shooting it (that’s what you tell a judge), or to delete images from your camera- or so I am told by those versed in the finer points of law.
If you are in a place which is “in public”, you can feel free to do whatever you want with your camera, within certain limitations (defined around the commercial use of likenesses and editorial implications implied thereof). If on private property, however, the owner or its representatives can ask you to vacate the locale and you must comply with their wishes or be charged with trespassing (however these private entities are similarly restricted in not forcing you to display, delete, or otherwise explain yourself to them).
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Of course, this is an ideal presentation of encounters between photographers and those who wish that the only cameras which existed were those monitoring the citizenry for criminal transgression and evidentiary collection.
Often, one will experience an encounter with a rookie cop, unusually aggressive private security guard, or criminal who does not hold to this liberal interpretation of constitutionally guaranteed free speech. Refer to the recent controversies surrounding the Occupy Wall Street protests, and the widely rebuffed handling of mainstream press photographers by the NYPD for an example of how things can go wildly wrong in the real world.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Once, whilst capturing an image of the charming St. Irene’s Church here in Astoria, an angry chorus of Greek women took it upon themselves to brand me a terrorist and chased me for several blocks- all the while hurling Hellenic invective. Many of them curled their hands into balls and stuck their thumbs out between middle and ring fingers, and one of them called me “A Bin Laden”.
That’s when I turned around and confronted the group asking “Wouldn’t a Terrorist have a car?”.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Regardless of risk and the malign attentions of both private and public security, your humble narrator is nevertheless highly motivated to capture and record the magnificent transportation infrastructure which forms the fingers of the Great Machine. I’m sure that they won’t let me take the DSLR into central booking with me, but as I’ve never been accused of anything but driving too fast on the Taconic Parkway and Pennsylvania Turnpike by law enforcement, it sure will be interesting standing in front of a judge.
And by the way, Happy Festivus.
flopping animals
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On the day of the New York City Marathon, which I was unable to photograph this year due to a variety of personal reasons, an effort was made to find some time to walk through the largely deserted Queens Plaza and get some shots of the place on the one day of the year it isn’t teeming with vehicular traffic. This got me thinking about Queens, and some of the people I’ve met walking along the streets here.
Showing up, I believe, is a substantial part of life. Attendance counts.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
A few folks over at another blog have decided to ride me down for the announcement of the Blissville Oil Spill the other day. A fairly typical case of “killing the messenger”, the best name I’ve been called – so far- is “Pompous Coward”. That’s up there with a name granted me by a coworker many years ago when I worked at Ogilvy Interactive – “Feckless Quisling”.
Seriously, here’s the link, these are actually kind of funny.
I would also point out that it has always been Newtown Pentacle policy to discourage people from eating whatever animals they might find along Newtown Creek or at Chernobyl.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
What kind of struck me though, was that not a single one of those commenters reacted to the Blissville Spill itself, which brought me back to thinking about the people I’ve met walking around these streets with a camera. What a grand bunch- cops and firemen, politicians and gangsters, city planners and urban explorers, environmentalists and industrialists, moms and dads. The one common thread in all of Queens seems to be that there is no common thread, except for a sure sense that someone else is getting a bigger piece of the pie than you are and that you are honor bound to knock anyone who is demanding attention- even if they are telling you that your house is burning.
That’s kind of a crossroads, ain’t it?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Allow me, in these closing weeks of 2011, to affirm and refute certain things. First, the various “groups” which I’ve become affiliated with aren’t paying me a dime. I’m receiving no money from government or private sources to produce this blog, and when you may see ads appear at the bottom of a page- that’s WordPress (the Webhost), not me inserting them. Accordingly, I am betrothed to no particular ideology or didactic political world view, and instead operate in the manner of what the Japanese would call a Ronin. I believe it is better to talk than argue, as the latter is something I do only with family members.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Several of my little mottoes rule my actions, and betray my morality. “What would Superman do”, “Do what you say, and say what you do”, “It’s not good, nor bad, it just is”. Also- “Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one”, and “Fish, cut bait, or get out the way” are rather influential in governing my days. I bristle at the accusations others make about my motivations, which betray their own corruption. As a statement of principal, understand that I have no agenda or hidden motive, and that I am what and who I seem to be- someone in love with the oft overlooked and obfuscated story of Queens.
mighty temples
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The neo gothic handiwork of architect Morrell Smith is hard to miss as one moves about Queens Plaza, and it is known to all as the former Bank of Manhattan Tower. Formerly the tallest structure in the borough of Queens at 14 stories (roughly 210 feet), the 1927 vintage building has since been dwarfed by the Citibank Megalith at Court Square. Smith was a noted architect of the early 20th century and had his hands in more than one landmarked structure in Queens (and Manhattan), and his projects also included the notable Jamaica Savings Bank which is found further east.
Crenellated, its spire carries a clock.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Personal observation has revealed that these clocks are seldom if ever accurate, and often they do not match up with each other. My understanding, gleaned from municipal and real estate industrial complex propaganda, is that the hidden mechanisms which drive these clocks are undergoing some sort of restoration as is the rest of the building- although specific detail remains elusive. The building itself is another one of the “black holes” in the historical record which distinguish western Queens- a noteworthy structure erected to serve a high profile company sited in a prominent location which is nevertheless relegated to an architectural footnote because its location is outside of Manhattan.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Your humble narrator acknowledges that, as always, whenever the subject of Queens Plaza and it’s locale comes up one must refer to the hierophants at the Greater Astoria Historical Society– however- one does not wish to stand on the shoulders of others forever and I have resisted making inquiries with them about the place. Unfortunately, independent research has offered little surcease to my curiosity about the clock tower or offered the deeper story and meaning of this building. Rumors of late 20th century bacchanals and Astorian apocrypha about certain rites conducted in its lofty heights during the thunder crazed nights of the the second world war era notwithstanding, there is a dearth of information available for me to share with you about the place. An open call is therefore made to you, Lords and Ladies of Newtown, for any information which might serve to inform your fellow citizenry on this enigmatic structure.
The Newtown Pentacle 