The Newtown Pentacle

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Posts Tagged ‘queens

where goeth

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Prognostication is a specialty.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

One considers himself able to not just look backward into history, but forward as well. I can make a reasonably good bet about a few subjects I know a bit about, and that have some historical context which instructs and informs. As an example of my thought process in this dimension, when I board a train or a plane I tend not to check the time too often while onboard. “Are we there yet” indicates that you didn’t think your journey through. You’ll know when you’re there, since the thing you’re riding in will stop and it’s operators will tell you to leave. Intervals are absolute, it seems, and you’re often disappointed if you don’t acknowledge that some things take time.

There are few, if any, moving sidewalks. No personal jet packs, or highways weaving around skyscrapers twenty stories up, and there is not a geodesic dome covering NYC. This is the 21st century, and none of that stuff exists in our daily lives, despite the promises of futurists from times gone by. We do possess computers, in our phones, that we can talk to, however. That’s pretty cool, but this ain’t the future we were supposed to get. Instead it’s kind of a pedantic and boring one, but, there you are. As the aphorism offers – wherever you go, there you are.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Self driving vehicles got you worried? The futurists and engineers haven’t really figured that out for trains that operate on tracks yet, or for cargo ships guided by actual satellites, so my guess is that whereas the driverless car is certainly a fascinating experiment – it ain’t happening quite yet. As soon as it does, though, porn will be shot in them while the car is driving down highways and the AI is pretending it doesn’t know what’s happening inside the passenger cabin. That’s two prognostications for the price of one, right there.

Additionally, even if some form of ultra clean “Star Trek” style energy production technology were to emerge tomorrow, we’d still be using petroleum for fuel for at least another century. I know this because we’re still using coal and gas, which are centuries old technologies. There’s a technological concept called “installed base,” which governs such matters. In layman terms, you ain’t changing the furnace in your basement out until you have to, and the old Buick still runs pretty good. Saying that, I’m all for lurching blindly forward and declaring one of our futile and very American “wars” on Climate Change. The one on drugs worked out great, right? What could go wrong?

I’d recommend creating a non variable zoning regulation instead, demanding all new construction include a green roof, for our cities. Activation of the 4H club and the various Scouting organizations in pursuance of tree planting along highways in rural areas would also be a plus. Reforestation seems to part of the answer, but it’s probably best to ask the farmers what they’d do. The religious zealots? Tell ’em that God wants ‘Murica to recreate Eden, and they’ll burn litterers on the stake.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Warfare is the cheap harlot of history, with its pageant and tragedy. It’s also the substance of what most of “the powers that be” would want you to build the shelves of your mental bookcase with. Even the Real Estate guys use it, selling “pre war” apartments at significant markups. “Pre War”? Which war? Are we never not at war in the United States? There’s a cognitive dissidence often encountered which somehow equates the far more important cultural, economic, and industrial history of the nation state as being encapsulated by “eras” defined either by conflict or the coarse and often bellicose personalities of various politicians and their regimes. It wasn’t the “Reagan era,” or the “Vietnam era” that you should be building those shelves out of.

Can you imagine what the historians of the future will call our time? They’ll focus in on foreign war and bombastic politics (both of which provide an excess of documentation, making the job of piecing together a narrative easy) but I think they’ll miss the particular mood of our time. That weird “us” versus “them” mentality which needs to be torn out of the body politic root and stem. As mentioned at the start, one often looks backwards to understand the tyranny of the now.

Americans aren’t much different from the Ancient Egyptians, or more recently the citizenry of the late Roman Republic. Like the Egyptians, we’re obsessed with death and honor, deeply superstitious, and willing to tolerate a lot of nonsense in the name of not offending the gods, and we also have a well founded belief that we can beat the snot out of anyone who messes with us. The Egyptians weren’t all that different from the late in the game Republic of Rome, but the Romans are a bit more familiar in outlook. They saw warfare as a business opportunity, just like us. I read about Rome a lot. There’s a lot to read.

The “blues and the greens” of Constantinople come to mind, but that’s really just a political analogy that sits nicely into our left/right narrative. Instead, I’m thinking about Caesar, and how the Liberators had absolutely no plan whatsoever in place to rule after those twenty seven stabbings in the Senate House happened. If you’re going to kill Caesar, you should have a really good plan for a post Caesar future. If you don’t, the Republic you were trying to save from a tyrant just might collapse, and give rise to a penultimate tyrant.

Interpret that last prognostication as you may. A smart auger leaves things a bit vague.


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In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.

Written by Mitch Waxman

May 29, 2019 at 11:00 am

who wouldst

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Happy Memorial Day, y’all.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Spotted these stout iron doors and old timey giant padlock here in Astoria one recent evening on my way home from a thing. The thing in question was a Community Board meeting revolving around noise and “quality of life” complaints leveled against a couple of bars on my side of the neighborhood so although I’m not officially a member of that particular committee I showed up to see what’s what and learn how that particular process works. Turns out that like everything else governmental, it’s fairly pedantic and there’s a well worn procedural pathway from “A” to “B.”

Another well worn pathway, one that I scuttle along, is where I encountered this lock and iron door combo, which seemed newly installed.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Another night, another meeting, this time in Greenpoint for some Newtown Creek business. My path home found me dragging the carcass down Norman Avenue, where this grocery store’s outdoor shelving caught my eye.

The meeting in question offered an analysis of all the sites along the Queens side of the Newtown Creek (and a few in Brooklyn) that are currently under the administration of the NYS DEC. Luckily, my calendar for the coming week is fairly open for serendipity and doing things that I actually want to do. What that means is that the weather will likely be unpredictable, since God hates me.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Yet another occasion which I was obliged to attend recently found one marching through the still industrial side of Long Island City, and along the bulkheads of the Dutch Kills tributary of the fabulous Newtown Creek – where this shot was recorded.

Back tomorrow with more things I’ve seen in places I’ve gone.


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Buy a book!

In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.

Written by Mitch Waxman

May 27, 2019 at 11:30 am

cyclopean vaulting

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Another, in a seemingly infinite number of, Tuesday has arrived.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Yesterday I mentioned my distaste for Western style men’s Formal Wear, i.e. a suit and tie. One refers to this setup as “Ritual Garb,” and my problem with it is one of practicality and comfort versus the dubious esthetic appeal it offers for some. One normally favors utilitarian clothing, and I have a stated preference for military surplus items as they offer both a plethora of pockets which have button or velcro closures, and are constructed of fabrics chosen for their rugged and tear resistant nature. Given the life I lead, and the places which I constantly find myself carrying the camera to, it’s a considered decision and I frankly don’t care about “how it looks.” That filthy black raincoat of mine has gotten me through several scraps due to its ruggose construction.

Pants or shorts wise, I’ve generally got six pockets to work with. Cash, a couple of sheets of paper kitchen towels (which come in handy as both snot rags and as absorbent wipes), a lens cloth singularly used for my spectacles, and a leather man pocket tool. Six.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

The sweatshirt is where I really pack in the pockets, with a whopping 28 of them. I’ve long favored the Scott E Vest sweatshirt when I’m on camera duty. It’s got an internal zippered pocket for my phone that leads to sewn in wire traps for the headphones, secure pockets for metrocard and wallet, a springy stretch thingamabob for my keys that’s anchored into another pocket. You wouldn’t believe the amount of crap I can carry in this thing. When you’re a photographer, there’s all sorts of little bits and bobs you find yourself shlepping around. Knowing they’re secure and won’t fall – say, into Newtown Creek – when I’m dancing about is a real time saver and one less thing that gets in the way while out shooting. During hot weather, one favors a guayabera, or cuban style, shirt. The Cubans seem to have an understanding of both the need for pockets and the atmospherics in hot and humid climes.

So, what, I’m giving fashion advice now? Not at all.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Over the last decade, one of the questions people have asked me over and over is how I do what I do. Camera equipment, lens kit, and operational technique has been offered over the years in a somewhat staccato fashion. The same care which goes into the curation of the photographic tool box is also applied to everything touching me. My “every day carry” or EDC involves nearly fifty individual items (inside camera bag, on my person, etc.) which all have the potential of failing on me or getting lost when I’m in the middle or nowhere or on a boat or something. If the camera itself gets screwed up, well… there you are. The only thing you can really prepare for is staying organized.

Saying that; I’ve got an extra set of shoelaces with me at all times, a plastic garbage bag or two for waterproofing my bag in case it starts raining, a flashlight, a set of allen keys, etc. All told, it’s about ten and half pounds of crap I have on me when I leave the house fully kitted up. This really isn’t that much, photography wise, and it’s taken me a while (and a bunch of cash) to whittle it down to that number. My current tripod alone took two entire pounds off my back, which is what has made it possible for me to do all the night stuff in the last year and change.

The shots in today’s post weren’t tripod shots, as you probably surmised by how grainy they are. Instead, they were handheld shots with the lens wide open at f1.8.


“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle

Buy a book!

In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.

Written by Mitch Waxman

May 21, 2019 at 11:00 am

godless sound

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Well, it’s Monday again, ain’t it?

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Recent endeavor found one marching home from Brooklyn’s Greenpoint, via LIC’s Blissville section, to the gently rolling hills of Astoria here in the Borough of Queens. The connective tissue, as it were, between the two boroughs for this particular perambulatory pursuit takes concrete form in the shape of the JJ Byrne Memorial Bridge – a double bascule drawbridge spanning the notorious Newtown Creek, which is known colloquially as the Greenpoint Avenue Bridge. Having fully armed myself before leaving HQ with photographic ephemera and tools, some time was spent in pursuit of recording the scene.

To wit, the shots above and below.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

One has been attempting to pull off a thirty second long exposure of the scene visible from the center of the bridge for months and months, at the center spot where the cyclopean roadway bascules meet, but have been constantly frustrated by the abundance of heavy traffic crossing the bridge. Even the passing of a normal automotive sedan will cause ruinous vibrations to transmit into the camera, blurring the shot, whereas the quaking cavitations offered up by the passage of a heavy truck or city bus over the bridge have more than once caused my hand to grasp my top heavy tripod in order to vouchsafe against it falling over. What I’ve gleaned from this experience is that you cannot find a thirty second interval in which traffic is not passing over this bridge, other than when it opens to provide passage east or west for maritime traffic.

That’s goofy.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

On another night last week, one was involved in a different endeavor in the financial district if Lower Manhattan when one of the many bands of precipitation which have been painting the City in recent weeks erupted. This event was one of the two or three times a year when you might observe a humble narrator wearing ritual garb. “Ritual Garb” is what I call a suit and tie. I often wish that our society favored feathered headdresses or Maori style piercings, as western formal wear is stupid. It’s composed of easily damaged fabrics, uncomfortable to wear, unsuitable for any sort of actual work or activity other than standing still or sitting down, involves wearing shoes that provide zero ankle support, and you’ve literally got a noose tied around your neck. Also, secure pockets are not part of the equation.

I like a good (velcro sealed or buttonable) secure pocket. Actually I like a whole lot of them.


“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle

Buy a book!

In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.

Written by Mitch Waxman

May 20, 2019 at 11:00 am

stricken flesh

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My foot hurts.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Lately, it feels like I’ve been exposed to ionizing radiation at some point in the recent past, as everything hurts. Part of getting older, I suppose. I’d worry more about it if the various aches and pains were more chronic and didn’t move around. One day it’s the knee, the next it’s a foot on the other leg, another it’s a weird knot in my neck which came out of nowhere. I’ve come to refer to this phenomena as my “pain squirrel” since everyday it seems to take up residence on a different branch of my personal Yggdrasil or world tree. Regular talking folk would just say “body,” but I ain’t regular.

What can I tell you, I spent most of my life burning the candle at both ends. If a situation required it, I’d use my body as a wrecking ball. It’s taken a toll, and the bill is coming due these days. All this recent rain has made me suspect that arthritis might be the culprit behind some of the various aches and pains, but it wouldn’t surprise if I woke up one morning and found that some part of me had turned to a form of goo under the blanket.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

Ideally, I’d like to house my brain, after the bodily gooification is complete, in some sort of robotic housing. On envisions a robust fluid filled jar for the brain, with electrical connections allowing me to control a mobile chassis. Said apparatus would have modular attachment sites for devices to interact with the world outside the jar. Given that I view the human body as little more than a chassis for carrying around the brain as it is, this scenario would be a bit less nightmarish for me than it would be for others. What I’d miss would be the feeling of sunlight on my face, as I wouldn’t have a face. A software algorithm could simulate any of life’s pleasures by pumping the appropriate dopamine solution into the jar anyway.

Yes, I sometimes fantasize about becoming a cyborg. Sue me.

– photo by Mitch Waxman

If my mobile brain chassis was constructed properly, I’d be able to crawl up walls, or even activate an amphibious modality and become a boat. I’ve never understood the science fictional trope of the robot man trying to return to being human. People already react to me like I’m some sort of monster, and I’m barely transhuman as it is. The camera is always hanging off of me, but that doesn’t count. I’m talking brain in jar, mounted in a poly alloy battle chassis powered by the particle decay of some sort of radioactive isotope, not rapidly aging idiot wandering around Queens. I look forward to the day when my biggest problem would be a patina of oxidation. Come to think of it, my biggest problem would actually be torch bearing mobs of peasants chasing me around since they’d perceive me as a monster, but that’s the sort of thing that already happens to me occasionally. Ask me about the time that a group of old Greek ladies saw me taking a pic of St. Irene’s here in Astoria when you see me.

In the meantime, the pain squirrel is lodged squarely in my left foot today, but I’ve got to walk over to a Greenpoint tonight for a Superfund meeting so it’s best to just suck it up and take a tylenol. That’s the burning the candle at both ends thing again, I guess.


“follow” me on Twitter- @newtownpentacle

Buy a book!

In the Shadows at Newtown Creek,” an 88 page softcover 8.5×11 magazine format photo book by Mitch Waxman, is now on sale at blurb.com for $30.