churchyard teachings
Tuesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Pittsburgh! After an epic drive from NYC to the Paris of Appalachia, my pal Max and I were desirous of a hearty meal. Luckily, a previous trip here had revealed a good spot for dinner and beers, so we left the car in our rented AirBNB’s driveway and shlepped over to it. Burger, Yuengling, yum.
We were going to be spending the last week of the summer out here exploring the greater Pittsburgh Metropolitan Area, a process which I had begun back in June on my last trip to this “zone.” One is beginning to develop a geospatial awareness of this place, but a rudimentary one and I’m often lost about something as elementary as the cardinal directions. I’m also trying very, very hard – and often failing – to not look at everything through a NYC filter.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The place we were staying in was on Mount Washington, in one of the several charming but quite hilly neighborhoods found upon the prominence. I’ll often offer the phrase “pretty city of Pittsburgh” when describing this place. One thing I’ve learned, and this is entirely informed by my life long residency in the dystopian shithole of NYC, is that what looks like a nice neighborhood to me will often be considered a slum by the people who have spent their whole lives in the region. That’s the NYC filter rearing it’s ugly head again.
I don’t necessarily recognize the threats here, since I haven’t yet developed a sense of syntax for the local culture and can’t spot a hero or villain from 1,00 feet away like I can in NYC.
As an example of what I mean, an anecdote: since returning to Astoria from this excursion in late August, I noticed that a neighbor colloquially known as “Johnny the Junkie” seems to be experiencing one of his periodic downturns, and has been stealing the electric bikes used by the Deliverista guys to fund his hobbies. He’s been selling the purloined vehicles to a local e-bike shop through the back door, something I know because I’ve seen him pushing locked bikes in and walking out with a wad of cash. “Fortune teller Mitch” will describe the severe beating that Johnny will inevitably receive when the Deliveristas figure out who’s getting in the way of them earning a living. Prior witnessing of other applications of street justice by this group suggest that Johnny the Junkie will be beaten to within an inch of his life with bike chains that have steel locks deployed on them. Nice guy, Johnny is, except when he’s dope sick. He crashes and burns about once every 8-9 months, does a hospital stay, is sober and putting on weight for a few months and then…
That’s what I mean by “syntax” – understanding what’s happening just by looking, and knowing will likely happen, because the milieu is so long observed and familiar. I don’t possess this sort of societal prescience in any way for Pittsburgh yet, which means I’m in an extremely vulnerable position until I do.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The neighborhood which our Airbnb was in seemed to be fairly quiet and what I’d describe as “middle class.” Everybody had a car, it seemed, and the streets were very quiet after about 8 o’clock. The rented space we were staying in had a second story patio outfitted with outdoor furniture. On our way back to the space, after having eaten dinner, we stopped off at a shop and bought a couple of six packs of beer, some water, chips, pretzels and other comforts. We quaffed said comforts on the second story patio. My pal Max and I discussed our journey from NYC, and organized a fairly broad set of destinations for the next week.
The weather was good.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Saying all that, one of the interesting things about Pittsburgh is that due to the topography of the place, even if something wild and loud is happening less than a mile away (as the crow flies) from where you are, it’s still wildly distant because of the deep valleys and hills which separate the various neighborhoods from each other even in the center of the city.
The photo above was taken about a mile from the titular center of the City at Point State Park, depicting the front yard of the AirBNB we were rooming at, and all I could hear was the sound of crickets and cicadas.
Day one of the latest visit to the area played out thusly: Long drive, dinner, drinks. Time for bed, as we were going to be following my normal “away game” schedule of getting up early and out of the house by 8.
I favor a heavy breakfast while traveling, as it makes the pooping schedule a bit more predictable and thereby you don’t find yourself needing a toilet suddenly the next day. I’ve been told that you Goyem don’t think about such things, and that it’s “eminently Jewish” to worry about where and when you’re going to be when the food you just ate comes back out. Ever wonder how we Jews managed to survive having everybody wanting to kill us? Planning ahead, that’s how, and sweating the small stuff. What? You’re not going to have to go?
4,000 years of contemplation about the availability of clean bathrooms… all I’m gonna say on that.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
We encountered a foggy morning once we exited Mount Washington’s tree lined streets on the next morning, which was Sunday the 28th of August. We were going to be moving around on foot in the Downtown area for this particular day, so we left the car behind and used a ride share to get us to our first destination. A greasy spoon diner in a neighborhood called the South Side Flats was where we were heading, and where I ordered the “lumberjack” with eggs, bacon, potato, and a short stack of pancakes.
The good news is that by the time we returned to the rented rooms at the end of the day, we’d walked about the place for nearly 8 hours and I had fully earned the entirety of that meal.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The last series of posts from this area published here, at the start of the summer, proffered the fact that I had developed a desire to examine – in some granular detail – the Smithfield Street Bridge, in a photographic sense. Built on foundations laid down by John A Roebling for a predecessor span, this extant lenticular truss bridge over the Monongahela River was designed by Queensboro Bridge designer Gustav Lindenthal.
As you’ll see soon, when I declared that I was going to photograph this bridge, and every single rivet holding it up, it was no idle boast.
More tomorrow.
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supposed son
Monday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Another trip out to Pittsburgh began for a humble narrator on the 27th of August. This time around, getting there was accomplished by automobile, specifically in my pal Max’s late model Mercedes. We traded off the driving, and this was officially the first time I’ve ever driven a vehicle manufactured by the German automaker. Nice drive, have to admit. It was a 4 door sedan, and kind of a “dad car,” but being a fairly heavy vehicle it sat into the curves on the highway neatly and was pretty fun to drive.
There are two routes from “here” to “there,” a northern route which we took on the way to Pittsburgh and a southern one that uses the Pennsylvania Turnpike which we used to return to NYC. I found the latter route a tedious and annoying drive devoid of the sort of epic scenery that the northern route offers. Also, the northern route carried us through Altoona, which is a whole other story that I’ll tell once I’m living in Pennsylvania next year and I have time to get photos of it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Somewhere in New Jersey, we made a stop to gas up the vehicle and grab some supplies for the road – Gatorade and gum, basically. As it happens, this is probably one of the last “Sinclair” branded gas stations in the northeast that I’m aware of.
Sinclair is the oil company that created the popular image and concept of dinosaurs somehow being related to the formation of petroleum with a 1960’s-70’s branding effort. The “Dino” has long been their corporate icon. They sell branded gear, everything from Covid masks and water bottles to Dino toys.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The gas station still had one of the Sinclair Dino statues installed on its property. I was god damned bemused by this fact.
The actual geologic deposition of hydrocarbons in the ground isn’t dinosaur related, incidentally. Petroleum and gas are largely found in the dried up basins of prehistoric seabeds (organic matter deposited during several geologic periods that was compressed by the weight of water and agglutination of stone), and coal is found in areas that were heavily forested and flooded out during the Carboniferous. Of course, this is my understanding of the matter as a layman – if you are screaming out “He’s wrong” about the above statement, please share your knowledge with me.
We got back into the car, and zoomed off to the west. Highway speed limits in this section of the country are 70 mph. Saying that, while doing 70 in the right lane, cars and trucks were punching past us like we were standing still – and they were easily doing a 100 miles an hour in the passing lane. A semi tractor trailer doing 100 mph would likely need something close to a half mile of braking in order to come to a complete stop, using the tried and true formula of one vehicle length per every ten miles of speed for maintaining safe following distances on high speed roads, which is terrifying when you consider it.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
As described last week, the camera was set up with a high ISO speed normally reserved for low light work, a narrow aperture (f8 or f11) and shutter speeds as fast as 1/8000th of a second in order to freeze the action and subject as we shot past it. The photos you get along the way are fairly random, just like the ones gathered from an Amtrak window that I’ve offered in the past, and are “snap shots” rather than photographs.
The middle section of Pennsylvania is quite rural. Farm country, essentially. While my pal Max was driving, and I was randomly shooting photos of things we were passing at 70 mph, one was bending his ear about the folk tales of cryptid creatures that have been reported as dwelling in these woods. Pennsylvania’s got a lot of lore, as it turns out. There’s meant to ghosts of Civil War soldiers wandering about, Sasquatch, goblins who live in abandoned mines, Dogmen, and my personal favorite – the Squonk,
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Lovely countryside though. When I talk to people about the middle of the state, the word “Pennsyltucky” often arises, followed by Trump and then I’m warned that “Trump Supporters will shoot me on sight.” Propaganda, much? Really?
Just like there’s a New York State based socioeconomic and cultural difference between the urban quarters of NYC (and its surrounding suburbs) and Albany (and the immediate Capital region around it), versus the rest of New York State, so too is Pennsylvania divided along political and social fault lines which are geographically and economically distinct from each other.
My basic understanding of the matter is that whereas Philadelphia, Harrisburg, Scranton, and Pittsburgh dominate most of the population, politics, governance, and finances of the State, there’s a considerably different point of view and way of doing things at work in the rural areas. To use the political parlance of the current day, the Cities are bright blue counties, and the rural ones are scarlet red. To use an older metaphor, there’s City Mice and Country Mice.
Luckily, there’s a whole lot of purple in the borders between these theoretical polarities. I actually like a divided government. Keeps them honest. Look at what happened in NYC when De Blasio came in and everybody was member of the same club. That’s where corruption gets bred, amongst bedfellows. Say it out loud – TAMMANY.
There’s so much to learn.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Also, no comment on that “Obey” sign spotted in the middle of a farmer’s field somewhere in the middle of Pennsylvania, other than that I hope the farmer is making good money for hosting an advertising bill board on their property. The group who’s signage this is also buy signage in LIC along the Sunnyside Yards, but their ads in Queens are either anti-abortion or attestations of either the Christ’s omnipotence or his continued existence – one of their signs is seen in this shot, for instance. It seems that there are several religious groups who purchase and fill these billboards with such messaging, as explored in this piece at priceonomics.
Again – there is so much to learn…
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doglike things
Friday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
After a terrifying visit to a cautionary tale known as Hudson Yards, a quick ride on the 7 train carried me back to the gently rolling hills of Western Queens where a transfer at the Queensboro Plaza subway stop was actuated and I was soon on an N train heading towards almond eyed Astoria. This was from the end of my journeys on Sunday – August 21st – which were meant to include riding on a Fireboat, but which ended up in a staggered scuttle about the abominable Hudson Yards.
One was hoping to wander through a street festival or something lively in the way home through Astoria – a Detestation of some Abyssal Power, or a Celebration of a Lord or Lady of Light – but it was just another Sunday in the ancient village.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Notice was taken of this woman feeding a group of birds. The birds seemed to be arranging themselves into a geometric pattern, but logic dictates that it was just the pattern of the woman’s arcing throws of seed or bread that they were following. Still, one wonders, and more than wonders…
Once I caught a photo of a group of birds sitting upon a series of Astoria power lines, in a pattern which reminded me of musical notation. I sent it to a musician friend of mine for analysis. He refused to discuss the matter after viewing the image, instructing that I should never mention it again and advising that I destroy the image.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
On the 24th of August, a day trip to visit a friend in the pretty town of Hudson, New York was undertaken. It was a long drive and my photographic curiosities were stifled due to social obligation.
There used to be a whaling fleet who’s home base was here in Hudson. The financial benefits of this industrial activity explains how they could afford the expenses of building out the grandiose architecture from the 1840’s – 1880’s era which is still extant in the town, as said fleet often did business with Ambrose Kingsland in Greenpoint. The Newtown Creek tributary “Whale Creek” is so named because of Kingsland’s whale oil refinery, and the corollary industries of rope manufacture, blacksmithing, shipwrighting, and miscellaneous ship supply hugged the shores of Whale Creek in Greenpoint.
Staten Island artist John Noble actually painted Whale Creek during this era – here’s a link to the Noble Museum at Snug Harbor.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hudson is a very attractive town, and I wish that I had more time to explore. I also really wanted to get a shot of the old docks where the Newtown Creek bound whaling ships would launch from, but as mentioned above – this was a social visit and not a photo mission.
The shot above is from a park along the Hudson River that obviously used to be part of a barge to rail setup.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Saturday the 27th of August, and this shot was from something like 8 in the morning, captured while sitting in the passenger seat of a late model Mercedes on the George Washington Bridge.
The Mercedes belongs to my pal Max, and we were on the road heading west for a week long “away game.” I left the pinstripes at home, put on my gray uniform, and configured the camera to a very odd group of settings.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The ISO was set into the range I normally use for night time low light conditions, the aperture was set to either f8 or f11 depending on time of day and ambient light, and the shutter to 1/8000th of a second.
When you’re traveling in a late model Mercedes at about 70 miles per hour, westwards through Pennsylvania, you need to take steps to freeze the action for the camera.
More next week.
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nightmare spawning
Thursday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hudson Yards is an abomination. The Related Companies have been allowed to steal the sky, blotting the firmament out and privatizing it for those who can afford to pay their price.
This is unfortunately the future, and one of the models that NYC will be using for future development. As you’re reading this, the “powers that be” are at work on the area just east of this development. The Penn Hotel is being torn down, as Midtown Manhattan is underdeveloped, and the Political Estate’s sponsors are slavering for more.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
When you flush a toilet here, your bodily waste flows through underground pipes to a NYC DEP facility on 13th street and Avenue D, right in the middle of the projects. It’s then pumped under the East River to Greenpoint, where it’s processed along Newtown Creek. If there’s a summer blackout in Brooklyn or the Bronx, you can bet your bottom dollar that the lights will stay on at Hudson Yards.
If you spend any time interacting with the vampiric aspirations of big Real Estate, and speak against one of their projects, you will be called a “NIMBY” by one of their sock puppet “non profit” organizations that describe themselves as being “YIMBY’s.” NIMBY is an acronym for “Not in my back yard,” and YIMBY is “Yes in my back yard.” These YIMBY’s will accuse you of denying people – who haven’t been born yet – homes because of racism. Never will the hundreds of thousands of apartment units currently warehoused, and purposefully kept off the market, by their masters in the Real Estate industry with the intention of keeping their market prices on an always upward trajectory be mentioned.
Jared Kushner. Donald Trump. The Durst Organization. Larry Silverstein. The Tishmans and the Speyers. These are the sort of creatures who control the discourse over housing and development in NYC. The aspirant politicians are sponsored by these forces, and expected to do their bidding when appointed elected to office. Oddly, the most “Socialist” of the electeds also happen to be YIMBY’s. So are the hardline Republicans, the middle of the road Democrats – everybody in office seems to be bought off to one degree of another by Real Estate.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hudson Yards is an abomination. Ever wonder what it must be like to live in a building where you can’t open the window for some fresh air?
On the plus side, you don’t have to worry too much about getting rained on in the Hudson Yards area. There ain’t that much visible sky there to allow a cloud to piss down on you.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The only reason you can see the Empire State Building in the shot above is due to a NYC Dept. Of City Planning rule about “preserving sight lines.” The fellow who oversaw this project for City Planning was Vishaan Chakrabarti, who was the same guy that the NYC EDC hired to oversee the Sunnyside Yards proposal. Now… do you understand why I fought so hard and long against that one?
This is what was going to happen to Sunnyside and LIC if that project moved forward. If the Mayor overrules the Council member and Borough President on the Innovation Queens proposal, this is what Astoria is going to turn into in about 10 years. NIMBY my ass.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Given the huge input of $1.2 billion in public money, you’d imagine that the rents here were somewhat reasonable, huh? Well, if you’ve got $7,100 a month for a furnished one bedroom – you’re set. That’s $85,200 a year, which would have to come out of your post taxation paycheck. If you want to buy instead, their available condos start at $5.5 million and range up to a 4 bedroom, 5,000 sq ft. one on sale for $29.5 million.
Does this sound like an industrial sector which requires tax breaks that divert moneys away from the public sector?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hudson Yards is an abomination.
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damnable expressiveness
Wednesday
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Sunday the 21st, I was supposed to go the City and take a ride on a Fireboat. Unfortunately, said Fireboat snapped a cable leading to the rudder and the trip was cancelled.
Given that I was in the high West 20’s, I decided to take a longish walk around the Hudson Yards development before heading back home to Astoria via the 7 train.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hudson Yards is an abomination. Everybody associated with the planning and design of this project deserves to go to hell. I’ll give the construction workers a pass, as they just do what their told.
I’ve often described Hudson Yards as looking like the debris of a space station which broke up in orbit and randomly embedded itself in the ground during a crash landing on the west side of Manhattan. Inelegantly designed mirror box rhombuses, these structures blot out the sky and cry out “look at my valuation.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hudson Yards is an abomination, as the project diverted moneys meant for public housing away from their intended target and towards itself with the complicit approval of City Hall and the Dept. of City Planning. $1.2 Billion of it. One point two billion dollars.
Saying that they improved the area with the money meant for the projects, the Hudson Yards team at The Related Companies convey and virtue signal their largesse. Yes, compared to the abandoned buildings and gangs of drug dealers and hookers which used to populate the area between 8th Avenue and the West Side Highway in the 20’s and 30’s, they’ve improved things.
Like the Romans would when declaring a victory.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
These vampires also created a street scape which is unwelcoming and cold.
This isn’t New York. This is what people from Atlanta, or Los Angeles, or Disneyworld think New York is. Public space here isn’t truly public, it’s privately held and that means that they can set the rules for the sidewalks. They have the right to impinge your speech, tell you to move on after sitting there too long, and set behavioral rules barring otherwise noisome but legal habits like smoking or break dancing or sleeping on a park bench. Your NYC streets are officially now their Hudson Yards development zone public/private partnership streets. Technically speaking, I’m not allowed to publish the photos you’re looking at of these buildings without first getting their permission, as it violates their copyright.
Want to know what form fascism will take in a blue state?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
While scuttling about Hudson Yards, I found a long staircase leading up to a skyway walk. Roughly three stories, I’d venture. Connected to a Whole Foods outpost and a series of coffee shops and boutiques, this walkway continues on to one of their encapsulated malls through a glassine maze. These mall spaces are not part of the street grid, and are set up in a manner that divorces you from geospatial awareness of the surrounding area – which just happens to be Hells Kitchen.
These buildings, and this entire project, are built around the “super block” concepts underlying the debauched intellectual legacies of the French Cryptofascist Le Corbusier. Adherents to Le Corbusier’s ideas included Robert Moses, and if you’ve ever wondered how and why what happened to the Bronx happened, it was Le Corbusier as channeled by Moses and his apparatus.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Hudson Yards is sterilized, but not stylized. It’s anonymous, reducing the citizenry down to stock art cutouts existing on some architectural rendering. It separates the social classes from interaction, except as clerk and customer. It eliminates the messy exigency of life on the New York streets. It’s inhuman in scale, like Speer’s designs for post WW2 Nazi Berlin, but there’s no pageantry on offer.
Hudson Yards is an abomination.
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The Newtown Pentacle 