Posts Tagged ‘New York City’
scented waters
Solitude and the solemnity of my beloved Creek.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
It has officially been three weeks since I laid eyes upon Newtown Creek and it is official, I miss her. The sense of desolating isolation, the abandonment of hope, the loneliness of it all. Often have I wished that there were more people who could appreciate her for what she is, but most of those who encounter the Newtown Creek have an immediate desire to somehow alter her. Me, I try to appreciate her for what she is and leave behind only a set of footprints.
from wikipedia
A loner is a person who avoids or does not actively seek human interaction or prefers to be alone. There are many reasons for solitude, intentional or otherwise, and “loner” does not imply a specific cause. Intentional reasons include spiritual and religious considerations or personal philosophies. Unintentional reasons involve temperament, being highly sensitive, having more extreme forms of shyness, or various mental disorders, being introverted or prefer quiet over commotion.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Most of these people are carpetbaggers from out of state think tanks, Albany bureaucrats, or do gooder types who moved to hipster Brooklyn in order to catechize the unwashed. They’re not bad folks, in fact they’re well intentioned, but seriously- leave the old girl to herself. She’s got enough problems with the Feds crawling over the place, and neither of us like too much in the way of company.
from wikipedia
Loneliness is a complex and usually unpleasant emotional response to isolation or lack of companionship. Loneliness typically includes anxious feelings about a lack of connectedness or communality with other beings, both in the present and extending into the future. As such, loneliness can be felt even when surrounded by other people. The causes of loneliness are varied and include social, mental or emotional factors.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Most New Yorkers couldn’t find her on a map of the 5 boroughs, despite Newtown Creek’s position at the center of it. She’s like some ancestral specter, lurking at the flickering edges of a candle’s light, and only seen by those who truly wish to. Disregard her story, and her dangers, at your own peril, for until you accept what she is and what’s happened here over the centuries…
from wikipedia
The encounter with the shadow plays a central part in the process of individuation. Jung considered that ‘the course of individuation…exhibits a certain formal regularity. Its signposts and milestones are various archetypal symbols’ marking its stages; and of these ‘the first stage leads to the experience of the SHADOW’. If ‘the breakdown of the persona constitutes the typical Jungian moment both in therapy and in development’, it is this which opens the road to the shadow within, coming about when ‘Beneath the surface a person is suffering from a deadly boredom that makes everything seem meaningless and empty … as if the initial encounter with the Self casts a dark shadow ahead of time’. Jung considered as a perennial danger in life that ‘the more consciousness gains in clarity, the more monarchic becomes its content…the king constantly needs the renewal that begins with a descent into his own darkness’ — his shadow – which the ‘dissolution of the persona’ sets in motion.
“The shadow personifies everything that the subject refuses to acknowledge about himself” and represents “a tight passage, a narrow door, whose painful constriction no one is spared who goes down to the deep well”. If and when ‘an individual makes an attempt to see his shadow, he becomes aware of (and often ashamed of) those qualities and impulses he denies in himself but can plainly see in others — such things as egotism, mental laziness, and sloppiness; unreal fantasies, schemes, and plots; carelessness and cowardice; inordinate love of money and possessions — …[a] painful and lengthy work of self-education”.
The dissolution of the persona and the launch of the individuation process also brings with it ‘the danger of falling victim to the shadow … the black shadow which everybody carries with him, the inferior and therefore hidden aspect of the personality’ — of a merger with the shadow.
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regarding life
Color please, bright and saturated, tall glass with lots of ice.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
This interminably frigid period has brought an abundance of dark gray into the sky, or so I am told. An unavoidable consequence of such atmospheric phenomena, one such as myself is possessed of the need to witness and be exposed to color. Bright, saturated, vibrant color. Accordingly, I’ve reached into the archives for today’s post. What’s more colorful or cheery than Mt. Zion Cemetery, after all?
– photo by Mitch Waxman
Another shot in Queens, this time of the estimable Kosciuszko Bridge immersed in the emanations of the burning thermonuclear eye of god itself in the westerly sky. Spanning the antiloquacious depths of the Newtown Creek, the great steel monster will meet its end at the hands of state officials and municipal contractors quite soon, or so they tell me. One grows older by the minute, as does this bridge.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
I’ve always loved this lucky shot. Right place at the right time, a passing squall of thunderstorms had produced a phenomena known as Mammacular Clouds. I happened to be in town for a friends birthday and spotted the otherworldly lighting at work around the Chrysler Building. This is what it really looked like. Could use some of that kind of light in January.
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cold and cramping
Lurid shimmerings of pale light, that’s what I’m about.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The hours one spends marching about Queens are severely impinged upon by weather during the winter months, a fact injurious to both health and morale. A humble narrator attempts to fill the empty hours productively, but there is little solace for one such as myself in hours spent in the office. Perhaps relocating to a warmer climate is in order? That would mean that New York City had finally beaten me, and that a life long grudge match had been lost.
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The various medications which my staff of doctors prescribe to manage those ailments which bedevil and weaken my material form have a certain downside – inducing a particular fragility to my homeostasis when the temperature dips down. Simply said, cold weather such as that which the City is experiencing is actually painful. Vital ichors run away from the extremities, and one begins to experience the sense of being in a long dark tunnel which terminates in a distant but brightly lit aperture. I call that aperture “April.”
– photo by Mitch Waxman
The hard reality of this, I’m only a quadragenarian after all, has made me truly love to see the oil companies delivering the fuel that stokes all the furnaces and boilers. I propose a new secular holiday, one which celebrates the constancy and efforts of the oil truck man, without whom we’d all surely freeze to death. Brr.
“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle
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
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
The Newtown Pentacle 