Weekend Frivolities: Tour de Bears, Real, Imagined, and Stuffed, of Central Park

Now that the winter solstice has passed quietly in the night (approx. 1:08 a.m. EST NYC), I continue to dream of hibernation. I have feasted on nuts and berries and slumped into carbohydrate narcolepsy, and I dare not disturb my slumber until the vernal equinox. But I cannot rest up here in the frosty north. Some rotund bearded guy keeps me awake at night, my obese compadre of El Norte, and the frozen tundra has started to melt under my den. I shall seek out then quieter caves and lazier company in Manhattan's Central Park.

Da Bears -
• Real live polar bears named Gus and Ida live in the Central Park Zoo.
• A Dancing Bear statue is near the Zoo.
• "The Bear Dance," a satirical painting by William Holbrook Beard (1825-1900) on a poster for the New-York Historical Society, is popular with young people. The painting is also known as "The Bears of Wall Street Celebrating a Drop in the Market." For more on this bearish subject visit the office of Bear Stearns at 383 Madison Avenue, or better yet, see Walking Off the Wall Street Bears on this website. Dancing bears, a street act in which real captured bears are made to perform, is a cruel tradition and should be universally condemned.
• The bears in the American Museum of Natural History include the Alaska brown bear, grizzly bear and polar bear dioramas.
• "Group of Bears" (1932, cast 1963), a statue on the south side of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, is by American modernist sculptor Paul Manship.
• The Art Bears inside The Met include Leonardo da Vinci's "A Bear Walking" and a Roman vessel in the shape of a bear made 200-400 AD. I'm sure there are more bears in there.

The Chicago Bears play the Green Bay Packers on Sunday, Dec. 23 at home on Soldier Field. 1 p.m. Check your local listings.

The name Arctic is derived from the Greek word meaning "bear." Antarctica means the polar opposite.

Walking Off the Big Bears (!) will go into hibernation December 25-30, 2007.

Those Fabulous Anarcho-Socialist Ashcan Artists, and A Walk to McSorley's

''Never think of beauty or use small brushes.'' - Robert Henri


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Three current exhibitions, two in New York and one in Wilmington, Delaware, highlight the work of the Ashcan artists, a cohesive group of artists active in the early decades of the twentieth century. Two of the exhibits, John Sloan's New York at the Museum of the City of New York and Seeing the City: John Sloan's New York at the Delaware Art Museum, focus on the prolific member of the circle whose drawings, illustrations and paintings of daily life in New York have become illustrative of the movement. His painting of the Carmine Street Theatre (1912) in Greenwich Village is thought to be the only painting that actually depicts an ashcan. The third exhibit at the New-York Historical Society, which I wrote about last week, includes all of the artists known as "The Eight" as well as those artists of similar artistic sensibilities such as George Bellows, Alfred Maurer, and Guy Pène Du Bois.

While the work of these artists to the modern viewer may come across now as nostalgic interpretations of an older New York, several saw themselves as a vanguard of revolutionary culture. Beginning with the debut exhibit at Macbeth Gallery in 1908 and culminating in 1913 with the Armory Show and Peterson Strike Pageant, the artists established working and personal relationships with the likes of the anarchist Emma Goldman and that most famous and authentic of all Trotskyites, Leon Trotsky. The exhibit at the New-York Historical Society pushes the bon vivant life and downplays the "reds."

Robert Henri, the group's mentor, and George Bellows taught at the Modern School, a school dedicated to anarchist principles. Sloan drew illustrations for The Masses and headed the publicity committee for the Paterson Strike Pageant. Not all members of The Eight embraced overt radical politics, and for most, the fervor was all over in a few years, but they weren't just social butterflies.

I've pulled together a self-guided stroll that stops at some of the important places for the Ashcan artists. The main purpose, however, is to wind up at the ancient McSorley's Old Ale House at 15 East 7th Street. McSorley's, a favorite Irish working class watering hole and the subject of five Sloan works, didn't admit women until 1970. "Twoud be a good place to sing "Fairytale of New York," I think, but not too loud. McSorley's rule is "Be Good or Be Gone."

See related post: The Pleasures of the Ashcan Artists

Image: John Sloan. "McSorley's Back Room." 1912, on display at Delaware Art Museum.

The Pogues' Shane MacGowan at 50: "Fairytale of New York"

After so many lessons, it's time for a carol.
Happy birthday to Irish singer-songwriter Shane MacGowan, born December 25, 1957, who will turn 50 on Christmas Day. He is currently touring Ireland with his reunited Pogues. Kirsty MacColl, who sings the duet with MacGowan on "Fairytale of New York" from 1987, died in a boat wreck off the coast of Cozumel in 2000. The song has legions of fans, with many claiming it as the best Christmas song ever written.



See a story about hard-drinking MacGowan's miraculous approach to 50 in The Guardian.

The Hot Tamales of Avenue A

Having grown up in Texas, I am accustomed to the tradition of Mexican tamales at Christmas time. So I decided to walk out the front door of my building in Nueva York and search for some. Labor-intensive in their making, these pockets of masa, lard and meat (pork, chicken, beef, etc.), hidden in corn husks, are best served steaming hot and accompanied by red and green salsa. I could have traveled to many far-flung neighborhoods of the city in search of the great hot tamale, but I don't like tamales well enough for them to require multiple forms of transportation.

After some internet research, I headed out to the upper reaches of the East Village to Zaragosa, a Mexican deli (215 Avenue A, between E. 13th and E. 14th St.), and hoped they had some tamales. I didn't even call first. I needed the walk anyway, as I had veered out of dietary guidelines with respect to daily gingerbread consumption. And, yes, they had some tamales that day, but just of the chicken variety. After I sat down and tried one, I brought home ten more hot chicken tamales for the colonel and company. The home-made tamales at Zaragosa are large and caliente, especially with their home-made green and red sauces. The owners are from the large city of Puebla, the birthplace of mole poblano.

The round-trip walk from Washington Square Park (not pretty right now with all the construction) to Zaragosa is about 2.5 miles. Winding my way through the streets I thought that parts of the East Village were funky enough to stand in for my memory of South Austin.

Image: Frida and tamales from Zaragosa in the East Village, now at home in Greenwich Village. By the way, I recommend the cookbook, Frida's Fiestas: Recipes and Reminiscences of Life with Frida Kahlo by Marie Pierre Colle and Guadalupe Rivera (Clarkson Potter, 1994), if only for the photos of Frida and Diego's kitchen.

On "Two Aesthetics"

When I discovered late Sunday evening that the celebrated American literary scholar Stanley Fish quoted my review of the New Museum's Unmonumental exhibition in a post for his New York Times blog, I was dumbfounded. I was shocked that Fish found me in the first place, little ole' me, and then I saw that he cited one of my more descriptive passages, one that I happen to like. OK, fine, even if he used the quote to stand in for our different aesthetics in regard to the New Museum. This is exciting, I thought, but I have other posts on my agenda. I'll ignore it and move on. Yet, as the days passed, something bothered me.

In Fish's post titled "Two Aesthetics," the blue-highlighted hyperlink that brought many visitors to the site earlier this week was the phrase "a description from a reviewer who loved it." That's the phrase that bothers me. Yes, the reviewer is me. But how does he know what I love? Did I draw big red hearts around my words? Did I hug one of the assemblages? I think not, and I would characterize my review as an "appreciation" rather than a love letter to the curators on the Bowery. Actually, I can see how some of my phrases such as "dirty dishes piled up in the sink" may have offended artists and museum personnel alike. Sorry. I also wrote of my concerns about future exhibitions.

When I visited Unmonumental, I had two questions in mind. First, would I be comfortable in the new space and inclined to visit the museum on a regular basis? Second, what did I think of the relationship of the New Museum to the surrounding Bowery? That was a big concern, as I had recently completed a series of posts related to the changes on the Bowery, ones in which I expressed fears of an art-led gentrification. I came away feeling somewhat relieved on both issues. I didn't enter the museum with a fixed set of aesthetic rules, and maybe I need to work on that. I'm sorry Fish "hated every moment in the museum" (his words, not mine). He criticizes the exhibit for its engagement in politics, but I must see the relationship of politics to art in a different way. I'll save that discussion for later.

I like to think I'm open to many art experiences, and studying contemporary visual culture as well as my peripatetic routine has enlarged my sense of the visual. I'm prepared to see beauty walking in everyday life and in my "favorite messy friend's place." If you asked me, though, what museum exhibition I really loved this year, more than just one I appreciated, I would answer without hesitation Georges Seurat: The Drawings at MoMA. I would draw big red hearts around it.

I have mixed personal feelings about Fish's citation of my review. On the one hand, I admire Stanley Fish's intellect, and I am flattered that he directed traffic here, even if he set me up as someone whose opinions on the New Museum stood in opposition to his own. As someone who devoted years of early adulthood to a graduate program in American Studies, the authority of Professor Fish looms large. I am also happy to introduce new readers to Walking Off the Big Apple, a site mixed with serious writing, practical advice, whimsical commentary, and sheer frivolity. I also would like to think, although I do not presume too much, that Fish and I could enjoy some of the same things. Given his discussion of The Fugitive, maybe we could find something on TV.

But when visitors arrived so suddenly this past Monday, courtesy of the link, I felt as if hundreds of people had burst through the front door of my home for a holiday open house, one I hadn't even planned, took a quick look around and then left. I didn't know quite how to respond. I think I hid in the pantry. Fortunately, there's not much to clean up, and I'm regaining my sense of balance. That's good, because I need my equilibrium in order to keep on walking.

Shopping in SoHo Without Euros

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I have completed most of my holiday shopping now, and efficiently I might add, finding everything I needed at two museum shops and the stores under the starry firmament of Grand Central Station.

As I live near SoHo and enjoy roaming its cobbled streets and glancing at its cast-iron facades, I thought I'd wrap up the holiday shopping there. I decided to play the poor rough street urchin and unfurl my fingerless gloves to see what a weakened dollar or two might bring home for holiday cheer. I have no Euros, sadly, and thus must look puppy-eyed and longing at the consumer sports of the visitors, thems in their fancy Marc Jacobs clothes.

So, yesterday, after straightening the flowers on my hat and rubbing the soot off my face, I bid farewell to the guv and mutts and took to the cobblestone streets south of Houston to search for affordable trinkets and plum pudding for me in-laws.

While I pressed my nose against the window pane of many a store I dared not enter, I visited several places for affordable gifts and warm places to get out of the cold and alight for some light refreshment.

I frequent these places at other times of the year, so what follows, in no particular order, is my personal itinerary for a typical day in SoHo. No clothing stores on this list, as I've already purchased those items elsewhere.

Vesuvio Bakery (160 Prince St.): always, always. Eggs, toast, bacon, and the waitress calls me "Bubbe." (Ed. Note, December 2008): Alas, now CLOSED.
Pearl River (477 Broadway) for strings of light, novelty lamps, sushi plates, lipstick cases.
MoMA Design Store (81 Spring St.): coffee cups, refrigerator magnets, pre-wrapped gifts, cute measuring tape.
Kate's Paperie (72 Spring St.): gift wrap, calendars.
Joe at Alessi (130 Greene St.): a hit of espresso, and a bag of Vienna Roast to take home.
Taschen (107 Greene St.): for Taschen books.
SoHo Park (62 Prince St.): my standard burger and brew break.
Vosges (132 Spring St.): RedFire chocolate bars.
Apple Store (103 Prince St.): for better earphones, and just to watch everyone else try out IPods. Walking Off the Big Apple is produced on a MacBook, by the way, the cool one in black.
Vintage NYC (482 Broome St.): a bottle of wine to take home and a glass at the wine bar.

"So, 'twas a good day, guv," I said when I returned home. "I ain't complainin'."

Washington Irving's Solitary Walk Through Christmas

"Stranger and sojourner as I am in the land,--though for me no social hearth may blaze, no hospitable roof throw open its doors, nor the warm grasp of friendship welcome me at the threshold,--yet I feel the influence of the season beaming into my soul from the happy looks of those around me." - Washington Irving

It's well known that New York native and storyteller Washington Irving made Christmas an important holiday in the United States, reworking Dutch folk tales of Saint Nicholas to invent the jolly, though obese, Santa Claus and publishing popular "sketches" of the time he spent Christmas in rural England with an aristocratic family.

A subtle and important aspect of Irving's writings about the holiday is how he approached a convivial family-oriented time of year as a homesick solitary man. The back story: The much loved and charming youngest child of a large New York merchant class family, Irving was pressed to study for the law though he loved literature and drawing. He and his brother Peter started writing the witty satirical history of New York, but he was left with finishing it when Peter was called away to England for the family business. During this time Washington fell in love with Matilda Hoffman, the 17-year-old daughter of a judge, and he put his literary career aside to join the judge's law practice to demonstrate his responsibility. Matilda soon took ill of consumption and died in April of 1809. Irving never married.

Irving left the United States in 1815 and remained overseas for the next seventeen years, with most of the time spent in England. There he wrote The Sketch Book of Geoffrey Crayon, Gent, the book that includes his most well-known stories, including the Christmas sketches.

In describing his experiences with the traditional English Christmas celebration, he admits to fighting what we would call seasonal affect disorder and the temptation to feel bitter about being all alone. He writes, "He who can turn churlishly away from contemplating the felicity of his fellow beings, and sit down darkling and repining in his loneliness when all around is joyful, may have his moments of strong excitement and selfish gratification, but he wants the genial and social sympathies which constitute the charm of a merry Christmas." You can tell he's been there.

So, in describing how he feels, he advocates letting the merry holiday contagion to reach those dark places inside. The important story is not that Washington Irving popularized the ideal of the family Christmas, but that he figured out also, as a single person, how to cope with it. We tend to forget that part in school.

Coming Up on Walking Off the Big Apple: SoHo Without Euros, Tour de Bears, Tamale Search, and A Walk to McSorley's

Let me review the busy week before I list the coming attractions. And what a busy week this was.
What are the life lessons learned since Monday?
A list:
• The New Museum likes to mix and match chairs and make visitors comfortable.
• The New Museum likes artwork by young people who find things.
• Museum membership includes not standing in line.
• The New Museum is New but not with respect to its sketching policy. Its sketching policy is eerily like MoMA's.
• Walkers and flâneurs require different gifts.
• Washington Square Park will survive, but I'm glad I took the pictures of the park in pristine snow the week before.
• Michele Asselin's photos of Mike Huckabee for the New York Times make him look hot.
• Robert Henri is a rock star.
• The We Are Ellis Island commercials make me cry.
• I want to recreate Art Ford's TV party in my own place.
• In an uncharacteristic act of website organization, I gathered all the printable maps in one place.
• Cookie cutters are for the cookie-cutter dependent.

Those are some powerful lessons. And come Monday, and for the many days after, look for the following posts:
• Shopping without Euros in SoHo, and A Ho-Ho NoHo Holiday on Ice
• Washington Irving's Solitary Walk Through Christmas
• Ashcan Artists Walk to McSorley's
• A Walking Tour de Bears in Central Park
• The New York Christmas Tamale Search
and many more lessons and carols.

Weekend Frivolities Holiday Baking Special: Freestyle Gingerbread

The image says it all. Rolling out dough for gingerbread cookies, I realized that the slab was nothing more than raw material for sculpture or a blank canvas on which I could apply paint. I looked at the cookie cutters on the counter and decided I didn't need them. It was time to get real.

It was time to get POP. So thinking about the most popular artist in the world, who is no longer with us, I pulled out a knife and started slicing through the dough. And then I thought, "What about my needs?," and so I made other shapes that spoke to my personal interests.

Decorating cookies is a fun artistic medium, especially with the edible gels and decorative frosting. The latter is nothing more than confectioners sugar, a little vanilla, a bit of beaten egg white, and food color. It's possible to make anything. I could bake an abstract expressionist collection, emphasizing the work of Franz Kline, or maybe just all Mark Rothkos. Those would be so beautiful. Or maybe I could do my own work and not be so derivative.

Anyone can do this. I used the recipes for both the gingerbread and the decorative frosting from The New York Times Cookbook by Craig Claiborne. The book is one of the best Southern cookbooks, in my opinion, because Claiborne was from Mississippi. Watch out, though, for the trans fat. I also tried a recipe for a healthier gingerbread that used egg substitute and light molasses, and though I didn't care for it as much, the sugary frosting canceled out its weaknesses.

Image: (in random order) Shoe, bananas, famous artist, cowgirl boots, flowers, portrait of Chinese leader, walking man, squirrel. Edible gels and decorative frosting on gingerbread. 2007.

List of Walking Off the Big Apple's Printable Maps

What follows is a list of links to Google maps I've created for Walking Off the Big Apple. These are all self-guided walking tours built around a theme and designed for visitors and residents alike. These interactive walking maps are meant to supplement many of the walks listed in the sidebar.

These are the routes that I've traveled and would recommend to others. I don't conduct walking tours myself, preferring to veer off chartered courses, but I like to think that people using these maps might bump into others at some point.

That reminds me. Once upon a time in graduate school, I took a course on Nathaniel Hawthorne and Edgar Allen Poe. I wrote a research paper comparing the two authors' use of urban imagery, and I argued that Hawthorne explores the street to comment on the individual's responsibility to society while Poe conceptualizes the city as a mental labyrinth. I'm looking at the paper now, as I've just fished it out of a trunk. I begin the paper with a speculation that the central character of Hawthorne's "Wakefield" brushed up against the voyeuristic figure of Poe's "The Man of the Crowd" in the streets of London of the 1820s.

While I find it a little daffy that I imagined a chance meeting between two fictional characters walking along the same street, I'm nevertheless pleased to discover that my interest in fictional urban geography started not this year in New York but years and years ago along "the Drag" in Austin.

As Cy Coleman sings, "Why try to change me now?"

Gramercy/Flatiron Stroll
The Bowery 2007
Garbo Walks
Chelsea & Far West Village Walk
Diane Arbus & Chelsea Hotel Walk
Art Supplies Walk
40 Bond to 40 Mercer

UPDATED: Many more walks since this posting. See sidebar of website or visit Walking Off the Big Apple's Google Map page.

Happy Hour You Tube Party with Art Ford and Cy Coleman

The following You Tube excerpt comes from a kinescope recording of an episode of Art Ford's Greenwich Village Party, an unscripted entertainment program that aired on local New York television in the late 1950s. The program featured Broadway composer Cy Coleman on Fridays. Here he sings, "Why Try to Change Me Now."

The Shame of Our Landmarks: The We Are Ellis Island Campaign

Joe Montana, the former star quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers and once the model of the American Man, is something of a surprise in his key turn as an advocate for the restoration of Ellis Island. But there he is, in a highly effective televised ad campaign titled We Are Ellis Island, wearing a Save Ellis Island T-shirt amid the structural decay of the island's endangered buildings. He talks, in a conversational tone of voice, about the loss of older family members and the need to remember history with his own family, and then he explains the historical function of several outlying buildings on the island and why we need to save them.

The campaign, sponsored by the Arrow shirt division of Phillips Van-Heusen, features several celebrities in addition to Montana, including Katharine McPhee, Elliot Gould, and Christian Slater. On the website, many more "All Americans" who are not as famous share their stories, and there's also a place to give money or pass along the information. I get a little teary-eyed when I see the televised commercials, and they've been running a lot during holiday prime time, but I think it has something to do with the soundtrack (lots of syncopated back and forth motions of violin bows), the digital photography, the aesthetics of decay, and the artistic approach to camera editing. Saving landmarks can tap into a powerful sentiment and tradition.

As a way of re-branding a shirt label, Phillips Van-Heusen has found an effective means of combining advertising with consciousness-raising. Several of the celebrities and the All Americans in the ad campaign, when they're not wearing the casual Save Ellis Island T-shirts, look tailored and well-dressed.

See the We Are Ellis Island website for more information.

Image: NY, NY. Immigrant's landing. Ellis Island. Date: between 1910 and 1920. Library of Congress, Prints and Photographs Division, Detroit Publishing Company Collection.

The Pleasures of the Ashcan Artists: An Exhibit at the New-York Historical Society

Many of the most famous paintings by members of the Ashcan artists, such as William Glackens' Hammerstein's Roof Garden and a pair of George Bellows' boxing paintings are currently on display in the exhibit Life's Pleasures: The Ashcan Artists' Brush with Leisure, 1895-1925 at the New-York Historical Society (170 Central Park West between 76th and 77th).

While visiting the exhibit this week I was happy to see collected in one place so many of the works that I knew. Studying the brush strokes and appreciating the scale of these paintings is, of course, only possible in person. Reproductions also tend to mislead when it comes to color.

The greatest pleasure was in seeing works that I didn't know as well, especially Robert Henri's pair of tall vertical portraits - Salome (1909) and Ruth St. Denis in the Peacock Dance (1919), and the exquisite Juliana Force at the Whitney Studio Club (1921) by Guy Pène du Bois.

The thematic approach of this exhibit focuses on the public pastimes afforded by developments in the urban environment at the dawn of the twentieth century. Grand boulevards, public parks, entertainment districts such as the notorious Tenderloin neighborhood, and critically important, the restaurant phenomenon, encouraged an electric spectacular of crowds, theatrical entertainment, and FLANEURS.

In addition to paintings and drawings, the exhibit features a few moving images, including Thomas Edison's entertaining Rube and Mandy at Coney Island from the collection of the Library of Congress. The film follows a tipsy couple as they make their way through the amusement park, riding cows and camels, shooting the chutes, and eating hotdogs. The short film includes fantastic views of Luna Park and "the Bowery" section of Coney Island. Many early films like this one may be viewed online at the LOC's American Memory site.

The exhibit, organized by the Detroit Institute of Arts, will continue through February 10.
A stroll from Madison Square Park to McSorley's, the subject of one of Sloan's paintings, would make an excellent Ashcan School walk. I'll get on that right away.

Image: Professor Wormwood's Monkey Theater, frame from Rube and Mandy at Coney Island by Thomas Edison. 1903. Collection of the Library of Congress. Professor Wormwood, eh?

See related posts: A Walk to McSorley's and John Butler Yeats (1839-1922): Painter, Father and Personal Trainer to the Stars

Capturing the Big Mo: Michele Asselin's Photographs of Mike Huckabee

The Huckabee Factor by Zev Chafets, the cover story of the upcoming issue of the New York Times Sunday Magazine and now available online, is accompanied by several images, including a couple of stunning photographs by Michele Asselin. Artful, composed, and aware, these are myth-making images. The former Arkansas governor's political star has risen sharply in recent days, a newsworthy fact that perhaps figured into the NYT's early release of the Huckabee feature story. These images could contribute even more to his Big Mo, but only if he doesn't get into too much trouble with some of his answers to Chafet's questions.

Asselin, a portrait photographer, has captured other celebs and politicians in the past, Hillary among them, but her black and white photographs of Huckabee for the Times, in their sophisticated way, may help translate the candidate (and what a cute name he has) for a big city audience. In one image, Huckabee is wearing a serious dark suit, seated alone in a typical reception space that takes up most of the frame, feet crossed out in front of him and with his hands touching, as if he's biding time for the shoot to be quickly over. He stares at the camera, maybe even glares. Asselin has composed the picture so that his shadow cast on the back wall takes on prescient meaning. It's all so noir.

The other image shows an informal smiling Huckabee, a bit awshucks, but handsome like a movie star, dominating the frame. Composed on a diagonal, Huckabee, now more casual wearing a clean white shirt, leans forward and glances shyly downward, almost giddy. He looks like he's so tickled that he'll fall down. Where the first image of Huckabee seems a little Elliot Ness, this portrait illustrates the buoyancy and affability that Chafets describes in the article.

I never thought of Mike Huckabee as glam, but I do now. I don't plan to vote for him, but he looks really good after losing so much weight.

Website for Michele Asselin, photographer here.

Farewell to Asymmetry: The Remaking of Washington Square Park has Begun

Yesterday, while walking through Washington Square Park, I heard the sound of an accordion playing a tune in a minor key. Romantic but mournful, the song sounded like the soundtrack of a European postwar movie. Rounding the statue of Garibaldi, I saw the musician playing this sad song, and then I saw them, the crews unloading the barricades for the long-delayed and much-litigated renovations of the park. I'm glad I had an appropriate soundtrack for that moment.

Washington Square Park is my park, as many New Yorkers have adopted a park as their own. It's where I walk my dogs, where I met my first friends (in the dog run, of course), and where I start my walks. It's where I've heard the best free music and where I took students first to learn about New York.

So for the sake of symmetry, the fountain will now be shifted to bring it more in alignment with the Washington Square Arch. The fountain will get new plumbing. Other renovations will follow over the next two or three years. It will be sad for me to see the park torn up like this. I hope the accordion player comes back.

Gifts for Walkers and for Flâneurs, The Distinction: A Pedometer Versus Champagne

WALKER: GPS device, pedometer, maps, compass, backpack, sports drink bottle, dog, journal, trail mix, down vest, heart rate monitor, MP3 player, walking shoes, pedicure kit, foot balm.

FLANEUR: champagne, walking cane, flask, pill box, expensive umbrella, hat, sherry, turtle, absinthe, carrying case for cards, passport case, small notebook from Venice, full length Italian cashmere overcoat, Chateau d'Yquem.

Image: Sketch of mannequins in an exhibit by students at F.I.T., 2006.

Thank You for Not Sketching: Sketching Policies of New York Museums

A time-honored practice in formal art training, sketching art objects in museums can enhance the artistic experience. It's important to know, though, that each museum establishes its own policy with respect to permitted sketching materials. While the Met allows several types of drawing utensils, the Cloisters branch is more restrictive. Most museums do not have a problem with someone sketching with a pencil in a small notebook, but when a person sets up camp, spreads out an oversize drawing pad on the museum's lovely floor and starts pulling dusty pastels out of their drawing bag, then the security guards take notice.

What follows is a smattering of sketching policies of some New York museums, collected from their respective websites. Once or twice I made the mistake of drawing with contraband art materials, and I did not enjoy the official conversations that ensued. Hey, kids, stay clean:

The Metropolitan Museum of Art

"Sketching with pencil, felt tip, ballpoint, crayon, pastel, and charcoal is permitted in all galleries of the Museum devoted to the permanent collection and in most special exhibitions."
"Please note that at The Cloisters, only sketching with pencil is permitted. All other materials are prohibited." (more details and info at the Met's website)

Guggenheim

"Pencils, sketchbooks, and notebooks are permitted. However, pens, paints, and easels are not permitted."

The Frick

"All visitors, including groups of art students, are permitted to sketch in the galleries of The Frick Collection on paper not to exceed 12 x 18 inches and with charcoal or lead pencils only. If individuals need to sharpen their pencils, they must use their own boxes to collect the shavings." (more details at the Frick's website)

Museum of Modern Art

"Sketching is permitted in the galleries (pencil only, no ink or paint) with sketchbooks no larger than 8 1/2 x 11 inches (21.6 x 27.9 cm). No easels, stools, or sketching while sitting on the floor is permitted. If galleries are crowded, guards may ask visitors to stop sketching or writing."

New Museum of Contemporary Art

"Sketching is permitted in the galleries (pencil only, no ink or paint) with sketchbooks no larger than 8 1/2 by 11 inches (21 1/2 x 28 centimeters). No easels, stools, or sketching while sitting on the floor is permitted. If galleries are crowded, guards may ask visitors to stop sketching or writing."

Hey! Wait! Isn't the New Museum's policy the same as MoMA's? Like, the same words, except for the calculation of centimeters? Interesting! MoMA's math is more precise, by the way.

I'll add to this list as necessary. See other posts related to drawing on this website.

Image: Notebook, 6 3/4 x 10 inches (17.1 x 25.4 cm) and pencil, within the legal limits of most museums.

What's In My Wallet: Museum Membership Cards

Even before I saw any art at the New Museum's new home on the Bowery, even before I knew that the café had red velvet cupcakes and the elevators were that shade of green, I joined as a member, finding it easy to sign up at the front desk.

After I visited the New Museum this past Saturday, I walked over to the MoMA Design Store in SoHo (81 Spring St.), encountering the store jam-packed with shoppers taking advantage, like me, of the member discount days. With 20% off the regular price, I was able to round up many unusual gifts for all the usual suspects.

As a frequent museum visitor, it's more cost effective for me to become a member. At MoMA, for example, if I shelled out $20 each time I visited the galleries over the course of a year, that would cost more than my annual membership. I also like to skip the lines and take advantage of discounts at the shops and cafés. With my Met membership, I can enjoy previews of special exhibitions and the beautiful quarterly Art Bulletin that arrives in the mail.

If this seems like a pitch to give a museum membership as a holiday gift, it is.

Image: Visitor entrance: New Museum, 235 Bowery.

Note: A list of New York museums open on Mondays is posted in the sidebar on this website.

Unmonumental at the New Museum: Just Like Your Favorite Messy Friend's Place (A Review)

Looking at the New Museum of Contemporary Art's inaugural Unmonumental exhibition is like visiting the crash pad of a favorite friend, the one that's creative and stays up all night and leaves dirty dishes piled up in the sink and doesn't have any real furniture and what's in their place came from the stuff people threw out on the sidewalk. They've taken their broken mattress and stuck a fluorescent light tube through it and artfully stacked their laundry in a huge tower of bungee cords. They've scotch-taped xeroxed pictures of their friends on the wall, and they sleep elsewhere.

Sarah Lucas, now 45 (impossible! when did THAT happen?), seems almost too famous for Unmonumental, because I immediately connected her bed object with her name and established career. Isa Genzken, born in 1948 and the oldest artist, represents the core handmade aesthetic of the exhibit with Elefant, her assemblage made of cloth, vacuum tubes, plastic, and paper. The rest seems the work of youthful anonymous sprites amok and bored in the fairy kingdom and with no discernible sense of place. I have no problem with this. The modern world is filled with too much waste and cast-off beauty, and assemblage, as well as collage, encourages innovation and repurposed associations.

Unmonumental serves to show off the New Museum because the visitor needs to move in and around the spaces, looking up at the lights and down to the cracked concrete floor and past the sculptures to glance at the Bowery rooftops. Two-dimensional artwork would kill the intent, and I indeed wonder how they're going to pull off any future exhibit that could include works on paper or canvas. They've been so bold in stating that sculptural assemblage is the art of our time, so how will they frame, so to speak, work that is not of this genre? What of the contemporary painter who seeks more to life than just gallery sales?

For the time being, the New Museum's '70s love for democratically Pop, un-Genius Art, rough-edged punk-inspired hand-me-downs, and dare I say it, feminist-informed and modestly-tempered collage aesthetics is alright by me. They've made a new home on the Bowery, and they've decided to crash there, as oppose to invade. Good for them.

See related post: Mixing and Matching at the New Museum on the Bowery: A Review

(NEW 12/20/07: My response to Stanley Fish's blog post.)

Mixing and Matching at the New Museum on the Bowery: A Review

During the rush of pack arts journalism that greeted the opening of the New Museum of Contemporary Art in the Bowery (235 Bowery) last weekend, I read all the reviews but decided to stay home until the initial frenzy died down. I wanted to get some distance, if only a week, between the opening marathon and my memory of the reviews. I wanted to experience the newness (as, indeed, all is branded there as "New") with judgments unburdened from the critical mass and to see, really, if I would enjoy myself.

The new building, designed by the Japanese architecture firm SANAA, feels both modern, with a touch of early modernism without the polemics, and postmodern, with plenty of playfulness without the irony. The museum offers several pleasures. The almost medieval staircase linking the galleries is so narrow that it's hard not to be intimate with people walking in the opposite direction, and I intend to use these steps in the future as my public stairmaster. The bathrooms are lined in colorful floral tile patterns. The elevators are the color of absinthe.

The New Museum is not large, a fact I found contributed to my comfort level as a veteran museum-goer. The layout and ambience of the first floor reminded me of Renzo Piano's contemporary addition to The Morgan Library & Museum, with the admissions area to the left of the front doors and the café space at the rear. The mix-and-match chairs of the New Museum's café contribute to the space's informality but also link the museum to the chair stores in the surrounding Bowery neighborhood. The New Food of the café offers large red velvet cupcakes at a reasonable price. Trendy, yes, but sheer comfort also.

Jerry Saltz, in his smart review for New York ("Little House on the Bowery," Dec. 3, 2007), argues that the museum's modest scale poses a problem for the museum's ambitions. I agree that the curators may find in these boxy white and well-lit spaces some challenges for future presentations, especially after the totally appropriate inaugural Unmonumental exhibition (more about that in an upcoming post). But maybe not. Maybe its time for art itself to shrink back to a more human scale after being so frighteningly large for so long. The limited space of an influential museum could help steer contemporary art in new directions. If I ran the museum, I would put in charge of a future exhibition whoever made the decision about the café chairs.

See related post: Unmonumental at the New Museum: Just Like Your Favorite Messy Friend's Place (A Review)

The Specter of Holiday Attributions, and The Nick and Nora Walk

I was all set to design a Christmas walk involving the wealthy Chelsea scholar and poet Clement Clarke Moore (1779-1863) when research led me to arguments that Moore did not write A Visit From St. Nicholas but had appropriated a poem authored by Major Henry Livingston, Jr. (1748-1828). My, my, my. This revelation upset me, because I was already bent out of shape after reading the NYT story of artist Richard Prince's appropriation of Jim Krantz's photography for the Marlboro ads. People should do their own work.

Now that I'm mad, WOTBA readers are saved from a Gramercy-to-Chelsea holiday walk, one that would have started at Pete's Tavern where O. Henry wrote The Gift of the Magi to the house where Clement Moore maybe didn't write A Visit from St. Nicholas.

Instead, I've quickly designed an uptown walk based on Dashiell Hammett's The Thin Man (1934), a sophisticated hardboiled tale set during Christmas in New York. This Nick and Nora Charles homage should possess just the right amount of tartness for an appropriate (but not appropriated) Walking Off the Big Apple walk. I pray that Hammett wrote it himself.

First, a quote from the woman who inspired the character of Nora Charles:

"When we were very broke, those first years in New York, Hammett got a modest advance from Knopf and began to write The Thin Man. He moved to what was jokingly called the Diplomat's Suite in a hotel run by our friend Nathanael West. It was a new hotel but Pep West and the depression had managed to run it down immediately and certainly Hammett's suite had never seen a diplomat because even the smallest Oriental could not have functioned well in the space."
- Lillian Hellman, from "Dashiell Hammett: A Memoir,"
The New York Review of Books, November 25, 1965 (link)

(Oh, well. Too late to give Hellman any sensitivity training.)

Walking Directions for the Nick and Nora Walk: Find your way to 330 East 56th Street, formerly The Sutton Hotel, managed by Nathaniel West in the early 1930s and where Hammett wrote The Thin Man. From there walk to the Upper East Side apartment building at 630 Park Ave. (the southwest corner at 66th St.). Lillian Hellman lived on the tenth floor from 1969 to 1984. Follow the walk with a dry martini at Bemelmans Bar at The Carlyle (35 E. 76th St.). If you don't want to go home yet, take a cab to Pete's Tavern where Ludwig Bemelmans wrote Madeline and O. Henry wrote The Gift of the Magi.

Link: The Upper East Side Book: Park Avenue, 630 Park Avenue. (The City Review) The essay at this site includes an upsetting rumor about another resident of the building, Dorothy Kilgallen, the gossip journalist and a frequent player on 'What's My Line?"
Link: Website maintained by a family member devoted to Henry Livingston, Jr.

Image: Holiday fun at the WOTBA residence.

Walking and Knitting At the Same Time, and News About Red Velvet Cakes

(Ed. update- The Point, the knitting cafe described below, closed in late April 2009.)

While I was walking across an intersection in the Village a few days ago, I passed a young woman who was walking and knitting at the same time. Not only was she in the process of knitting mittens, using the three-needle method, she also wore two other knitted mittens strung around her neck. It was obvious she had also knitted the cap on her head. She looked completely happy. When I reached the sidewalk, I turned around and just stared with amazement at the disappearing figure of this one-woman knitting machine.

I haven't a clue how to knit mittens, but I am getting professional help in all knitting matters by visiting The Point Knitting Cafe on Bedford Street. I can make my way through knitting a scarf all by myself, but starting and finishing a sweater on circular needles requires some hand-holding. I've brought home some beautiful yarn, a recommended book, new bamboo needles, and importantly some confidence that I can make a sweater before the year 2012.

Among the baked goods for sale at The Point, I've seen some delicious-looking red velvet cupcakes, the very mention of which, based on experience, should send this particular post soaring in popularity.

I think it's the name - red (power and passion) velvet (sexy tactile luxury) cupcakes (cute and edible) that drive people, mainly women, wild. Some chocolate is involved. Out of fun, I've just now gone over to Blogger and started a website titled Red Velvet Cakes. The whole process took five minutes. The blog has nothing on it yet, but I know it will be popular.

Back to knitting. The Edith Piaf biopic, La Vie En Rose, portrays the legendary petite chanteuse (played brilliantly by Marion Cotillard) as a fool for knitting, and I think she could probably walk, knit, and sing at the same time, even while high.

Image: The doorman didn't want me to leave the building the other day, because he thought I had too much dog hair on my jacket. I'm now knitting a scarf out of a textured tweedy wool that would naturally blend and incorporate the hairs of a terrier.

The Point Knitting Café (link)
La Vie En Rose (official movie site)

Walking to the Strand Bookstore

After writing the previous post and contemplating an alternative life as a recluse, I became despondent for three minutes and so had to leave the apartment to walk anywhere or somewhere. The somewhere turned out to be the Strand bookstore, a brilliant spontaneous choice, if I may say so myself, as I think the store is the center of civilized life below 14th St. (12th @ Broadway).

While browsing the Strand today, I understood better why I like to get out of the apartment in the first place and why I like to shop for books at a bookstore more than I do online. While I'm in a bookstore I'm able to scan the shelves for a particular book, but my eye frequently lands on some treasure that I would never have discovered otherwise. This is especially the case for used or out-of-print books. The same principal applies, of course, to browsing the shelves in the library. Online bookstores don't know me, and when their software sends up the "if you enjoy this, then you will like this other book also," I often think, "Hell, no."

After spending most of the time in the New York section, I picked up a used paperback copy of New York Days by Willie Morris, a book I wanted to find. Near the Morris book I saw a used copy of The Street Where the Heart Lies by Ludwig Bemelmans. The author and illustrator may have spent most of his life in New York, famously drawing and writing Madeline on the back side of menus at Pete's Tavern nearby, but the novel I found was about Paris and should have been properly filed under regular fiction. Life offline comes with charm and serendipity, but maybe this was also the doing of a cunning book store clerk, far wiser than consumer software, who knew someone like me would find it and take the book home.

Walking Off the Big Apple, or Not

To walk off the Big Apple, or not to walk off the Big Apple, that is the question, because I have the option of never leaving the apartment. After reading the Brookings study about walkable communities, I realized that contemporary life and technology have made it such that I never have to walk anywhere at all.

I could stay inside all the time, making my livelihood on the Internet and ordering groceries, pet food, new clothes, a treadmill, books, art supplies, and whatever else I need to sustain my existence. If I get lonely, my friends could come over and visit, although they would complain that I never went anywhere. The dogs certainly need to go outside, but I can hire pet walkers for that service.

I could build the WOTBA empire just by sitting at the dining room table, pounding away at the laptop and occasionally moving from room to room. I could just make up walks that I imagine and illustrate the walks with drawings.

For all the discussion of building walkable communities, we may want to engage in discussions about why walk or have communities in the first place. Health professionals may say that walking improves physical fitness, and urban planners and political theorists would argue that urban communities and public spaces improve the conditions of democracy.

I'm happy to let others put forth these health, moral, or political arguments. As a flâneuse, I just love to walk the streets that I share with others because strolling and observing life around me uplifts my joie de vivre. I like that. Plus, kung pao chicken doesn't taste the same at home.

Image and anecdote: A New York friend told me that when her phone broke, she turned to her partner and asked, "How are were going to EAT?!!"

Shakespeare, Always in New York

"How many goodly creatures are there here!" - Miranda, The Tempest (bonus points if you know the next line)

I always have it in mind to see every Shakespeare production in New York, because it seems like a goodly project, but it's nearly impossible to keep up with the Bard in New York City. I recently saw the Wooster Group's production of Hamlet (now closed) at the Public Theater. I thought their interpretation was brilliant in several passages but annoyingly distracting in others.

Cymbeline at Lincoln Center just opened to excellent reviews. (Vivian Beaumont)

Also playing: Richard III at Classic Stage Company (136 E. 13th St.) through Dec. 9.

For those who believe Christopher Marlowe wrote some of Shakespeare's plays, take notice that the Red Bull Theatre begins previews of Garland Wright's adaptation of Edward the Second beginning Dec. 11.

Gounod's Roméo et Juliette returns to the Metropolitan Opera on Dec. 8 at 8 p.m. Plácido Domingo conducts.

Also, the Shakespeare Garden in Central Park is open during regular park hours.

Image: WOTBA's photoshopped image of Shakespeare in front of City Hall.

Brookings Releases Study of Most Walkable Cities

Christopher B. Leinberger, a visiting fellow at the Brookings Institution, ranks the country's most walkable communities in a report released today. New York ranks 10th overall on the list of the 30 largest metropolitan areas, but the city has more walkable urban areas than other places, according to the study. The walkability factor was determined by counting the number of "regional-serving walkable urban places," meaning places with jobs, shops, and culture that attract people who don't live there.

Washington, D.C. is the overall leader, because the ranking is based on a per-capita basis. Our nation's capital is a lovely place to walk, I can attest, especially around the DuPont Circle neighborhood where the Brookings Institution is located.

Leinberger observes that young professionals are behind this desire, but other factors help with the creation of successful walkable communities. He cites the viability of a city's rail transit system as the most important element in creating these flaneur-friendly cities. A healthy economy and mixed-use development figure in the equation as well. No surprise here, but I'm encouraged by this type of advocacy.

I look forward to reading the study in more detail, especially the 21 places identified in the study as the most walkable in New York City.

Links:

Metropolitan areas ranked for walkability (CNN)

Footloose and Fancy Free: A Field Survey of Walkable Urban Places in the Top 30 U.S. Metropolitan Areas (Brookings)

See also The Option of Urbanism: Investing in a New American Dream by Christopher B. Leinberger (Island Press, November 2007)

Walking in Inclement Weather

New York is currently under a wind advisory, and I can attest that conditions are not ideal for a stroll in the park. I've been out walking anyway, just because I needed to get out, and I took the dogs with me, because they had their own reasons for getting out. The effort seemed thrilling for the first ten minutes, but then the walk turned frightful. The wind was gusting to 50 mph, and I thought my terrier was going to rise in the air like a Thanksgiving Day parade balloon. We turned around and walked home.

I like to walk every day, but when bad weather arrives, I find little pleasure in the alternative of walking on a treadmill in a gym. I'm a flâneur, not an athlete, and so I need the intellectual stimulation of the street more than I need to watch myself in the gym mirror walking nowhere and squirting water in my mouth from a sports drink bottle.

I don't like to let inclement weather stop me from walking, so I will bundle up in a parka that makes me look like the Michelin Man and then head out into the elements. Walking in inclement weather allows me to pursue my flâneur agenda, but I can actually burn more calories under rough conditions. After a walk in the snow or wind, I may feel exhausted, but at least I will have seen the windows on Fifth Avenue or the comforting fireplace at a cozy West Village café.

I'm not stupid, though. I always bring extra money for a cab.

Image: WOTBA upended at the intersection of Fifth Avenue and Washington Square North while walking in the brisk breeze blowing in from the west.

Holiday Gift Ideas for the Artists on Your List

The best gift that you can give an artist is free room and board for a year in a spacious loft studio with track lighting and a generous per diem for expenses.

Something free you can give an artist, and something that would be appreciated, is ATTENTION.

Another free idea is to set up a fan website for them and write reviews of their work.

People are inclined to give art supplies to artists, and no doubt many appreciate this gesture. I love it when the colonel buys me art supplies, because I like to just look at them.

True committed artists can get geeky about their materials, partial to certain types of charcoal or the brand of paint or the kind of found objects they need for their sculptural assemblages. If the artist is particular about materials, consider giving a gift certificate for purchases at the art supply store. The Back-to-School Art Supplies Walk on this site provides contact information for a few good New York stores.

Budding artists of younger ages may be easier to please. I enjoyed flipping through the MetKids catalogue for this year, and knowing that I am immature for my age, I wanted several items for myself.

Many artists also need something nice to wear to openings, because their paint-splattered work clothes are completely embarrassing.

Image: Evidence of a serious art supply addict. Somewhere in Greenwich Village. December 3, 2007.

Weekend Frivolities DIY Edition: Venetian Masks

The previous post on taking black-and-white photos in New York in the snow could be filed under Weekend Frivolities, in that it's about making holiday gifts, but I didn't think it crossed the Bridge of Idiocy enough to qualify for this feature.

I've been promising to demonstrate how to make Venetian masks, but I think they're too hard for me to explain. First of all, you need to make a clay sculpture that looks like something, maybe a terrier or a cat, mix up some plaster in batches and then pour it over the sculpture, wait till it hardens, pull the clay out of the mold, and then start cutting up pieces of paper for papier-maché. That's just for starters. It's a big mess. I've cried any times.

The best way to learn how to make beautiful masks in the authentic tradition is to fly into Marco Polo Airport, find a hotel in Venice for a few days and then walk the mysterious streets of the Dorsoduro until you accidentally find the Ca' Macana shop.

The former architecture students who founded Ca' Macana in the early 1980s played a role in the revival of the Carnival, an event that had nearly disappeared for a couple of centuries. The shop made the masks for Stanley Kubrick's sexy Eyes Wide Shut (1999). I bought the fox mask (at left) from them as well as their book that includes step-by-step instructions.

To understand the creative process of these well-crafted masks, the section of Ca' Macana's website about mask-making classes features an informative video.

I have a mask I want to make, one that will be a perfect accompaniment to the southern funeral fan that I demonstrated last weekend. I'm going to call it Artist's Mutt. I'll post a photo if it turns out OK.*

Image at top: A Venice "street," with the Bridge of Sighs in the background. When I took the photo, I was fascinated by the fellow standing on the bridge in the foreground, because I thought for sure it was the ghost of Marcello Mastroianni in Fellini's 8 1/2.

SEE ALSO the post Weekend Frivolities, Making a Mask for Halloween, Part One for complete instructions.

To see examples of my unusual Venetian masks -all with some sort of twist, look for the illustration accompanying the following post:
Then We Take Berlin: Berlin in Lights Festival

* I eventually made the Artist's Mutt mask for Halloween in October of 2008. See it here.

The Intrinsic Beauty of Gotham in the Falling Snow

I can usually sense when snow has started to fall overnight, because snow seems to suck any noise out of the air. The silence of last night, though punctured in the wee hours by shrills of the late night revelers, indicated that the first serious snow, the kind that sticks, had arrived.
New York looks fabulous dressed in the first coats of shimmering white, so photographers are encouraged to make haste before the pristine flakes turn to the familiar mushy mess.

Those looking to make gifts for the holidays can do no wrong with presents of images of New York covered in snow. Digitally remove all the color, and voila!, your own classic, no matter how mundane the particular shot. New York. Snow. Picture frame. You're done.

Images: Washington Square Park. December 2, 2007

Nancy Graves, Francesca Woodman, and Barbara Kruger in Midtown Galleries

Hallelujah, art sisters and brothers! Read on about three fine exhibits that are all within easy walking distance of one another.

• Nancy Graves
Bronze Sculpture of the 1980s
Ameringer Yohe Fine Art (20 West 57th Street)
Through December 22, 2007 and January 2-12, 2008

The sculptural assemblages in bronze made by Nancy Graves (1939-1995) in the 1980s are among her most critically acclaimed and important artworks. These brightly colored objects, all more than just the sum of their found object and familiar form parts - palm fronds, egg cartons, wheel spokes, tractor seats, etc., exude an inner dialogue, as if they are sentient beings capable of playing amongst themselves. Though heavy, they seem to defy gravity.

These sculptures could fit perfectly in the debut exhibit of The New Museum of Contemporary Art, but I'm afraid they would have the effect of making some of the new work by young artists seem derivative and so yesterday.

• Francesca Woodman
Marian Goodman Gallery (24 West 5th Street)
Through January 5, 2008

Francesca Woodman (1958-1981), a tragic suicide at the age of 22, created a body of work of exquisite sensibility during her brief life. Working in black and white, Woodman explored the relationship of the female form to the built and natural environment, often setting up relationships between the body and the exterior form. The gallery, which represents the estate, exhibits a gorgeous selection of these photographs. They're youthful, beautifully made, and heartbreaking.

• Barbara Kruger
Picture/readings: 1978
Mary Boone Gallery (745 Fifth Avenue)
Through December 22, 2007

In 1978, before creating the graphic black, white and red juxtaposition of words and images for which she is most known, Kruger (b. 1945) took photographs of vernacular dwellings in California and Florida and paired these images with imagined soliloquies. The point-of-view of the image is from the sidewalk, while the words reveal the interior life of the occupant. The series commands respect due to its masterful evocation of dualities - public and private, exterior and interior, male and female. Kruger writes powerfully well.
The feeling of the 1970s invoked in the images bears some resemblance to Stephen Shore's road trip images of the time (the subject of a dynamo exhibit at ICP that I saw twice), and I could picture him pulling into the driveway of these apartment houses. That said, I think Kruger, if she wanted, could kick Shore's butt.

The Post-Holiday Diet Starts Early and A Blank Chart O' Progress for December

Flipping over the pages of all my dog calendars to December (the golden retriever wearing Santa's hat, don't you know), and noting that it's still in the early stages of holiday merriment, I have decided this very morn' that I need to lose six pounds this month, come hell or high water, before the new year.

A little alarmed about the lingering effects of Thanksgiving, and, frankly, anxious about my walking future through sleet and snow and, thusly, the ability to make metaphorical the lessons of Gotham's streets, I have taken up the task once again of puritanical chart-making.

Walking for exercise and weight loss, the raison d'être of Walking Off the Big Apple in her infancy as a website, low, just these four-and-a-half months ago, eventually gave way, as loyal readers know, to discussions cultural, economical, and philosophical. Art reviews and descriptions of New York's neighborhoods, new and old, pushed out posts on walking off slabs of beef. Diatribes about Wall Street and the Bowery took precedent over late-night confessions in chat rooms devoted to the overweight. Flâneurie replaced Câlorie.

I blame it on Greta Garbo.

When the New Year arrives in a month, and with it the endless and tedious feature stories we're all forced to read on post-holiday weight loss, I want to be able to skip all that and move on to worthy commentaries with a lot of meat.

So, here I go. I'm happy to share my chart-making je-ne-sais-quoi with anyone who wants to play along. You want to be WOTBA's diet friend, oui ou non?

Image: the first 14 days of WOTBA's December game plan.

Holiday Books: Tony Duquette, Andy Goldsworthy, Eric Clapton, Edith Wharton

Image: One of the windows at Bergdorf Goodman (754 Fifth Ave) inspired by the fantastical work of the California-born designer Tony Duquette (1914-1999). The lavish book, Tony Duquette, by Wendy Goodman and Hutton Wilkinson is published by Abrams.

Readers who like Walking Off the Big Apple may also enjoy the following books published in 2007.

Books of art:

Enclosure by Andy Goldsworthy
On Ugliness by Umberto Eco, Alastair McEwen (translator)
A Life of Picasso: The Triumphant Years, 1917-1932 by John Richardson
A Lifetime of Secrets: A PostSecret Book by Frank Warren
The Writer's Brush: Paintings, Drawings, and Sculpture by Writers by Donald Friedman

Also:

Two books about cultural ideas - Modernism: The Lure of Heresy by Peter Gay and Birth of the Cool: California Art, Design, and Culture At Midcentury by Elizabeth Armstrong

Two autobiographies - Born Standing Up: A Comic's Life by Steve Martin and Clapton: The Autobiography by Eric Clapton

Two biographies - Edith Wharton by Hermione Lee and Matisse the Master: A Life of Henri Matisse: The Conquest of Colour, 1909-1954 by Hilary Spurling

And finally the novels and novellas I most want to read: Tree of Smoke: A Novel by Denis Johnson, Bridge of Sighs by Richard Russo, Suite Francaise (two novellas, one fictional, the other factual) by Irene Nemirovsky , and A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini.

Read the earlier post about classic New York and Texas novels here.

How Not to Blow Your Diet During the Holidays, Illustrated

At this time of year I read many articles about unnecessary holiday eating and drinking, the kind that adds pounds that never come off. I can easily visualize the quantitative portions of various holiday desserts and appetizers that I should not consume, but alcohol is sometimes hard to ration.

Here, as illustrated in the photo, I've set out three different size wine glasses and poured one serving, or 5 ounces, into each of the glasses. The amount of wine appears different from glass to glass, n'est-ce pas? I love the short stemless glass in front, but the 5 ounces appear small in there. In the tallest wine glass at back, one serving doesn't even fill half the glass. The wine glass on the right seems perfect for one serving. By the way, I bought this particular wine glass at a restaurant supply store in the Bowery that's going out of business.

One serving of wine equals 100-120 calories, so walking off one glass will require walking one mile.

What did I learn from this experiment? I learned that if I want to enjoy just one glass of wine for a holiday get-together, I need to choose the glass that looks like it will hold just one serving of wine.

Tickets Already Snapped Up For The New Museum Opening Marathon

Am I going to the opening of the New Museum of Contemporary Art on the Bowery this weekend? I wanted the answer to be "Hell, Yes!,"* but I've learned that all the time-allotted tickets for the Target-sponsored 30-hour opening marathon have officially been given out. According to the New Museum's website, it's possible that some tickets will be returned or unused, so you're free to show up and get lucky.

*Ugo Rondinone's sculptural rainbow, Hell, Yes! is currently installed on the front of the New Museum of Contemporary Art.

Image above: The New Museum of Contemporary Art as seen from behind an industrial mixer at a restaurant supply store across the street. WOTBA.

The Morning News: Curtains Up on Broadway and Stocks Soar

The Broadway Strike is Over: The Broadway stagehands and the League of American Theaters and Producers reached a compromise yesterday, ending the painful 19-day strike. (NYT story here.) On the other hand, the writers at CBS News look like they will take to the picket lines in December.

The Stock Market Soars: The American economy seems so pitiful that the Feds signaled that a further rate cut may be in order. (NYT story here.) Hence, the stock market posted a stunning one-day gain yesterday. Just because the market had a good day, however, doesn't mean that the American consumer had one. Consumer confidence is down, credit is harder to get, and home foreclosures are up 94% over a year ago. Sorry.

After a pipeline explosion overnight, oil prices went up, so that may make investors nervous. Traders figure that people will not spend as much on the holidays if they have to spend more cash on gas. I think people will still try to acquire items on their shopping lists, but they'll look for the cheapest price possible. The consumer economy is all about persuading the consumer that desire equals need. Do I want a new 24-inch IMac, just like the one at my friend's house? Of course! Do I need it? Er...uh...if I could see WOTBA that big on the screen, then surely I would be the most famous website witch in all of New York.

Walking Off the Wall Street Bears, now concluded as a special feature, can be viewed in its entirety in the Walks of Fame section in the sidebar.

Coming today: How Not to Blow Your Diet During the Holidays, Illustrated; New Books 2007, and Midtown Art Galleries.

Walking Off Gramercy/Flatiron With Canadian Women

View Larger Map

A couple of weeks ago I took a large group of charming, adventurous, and educated women from Vancouver, Canada (and its extended geographical area) on a walk through the Gramercy/Flatiron neighborhoods. I am just now writing up an account of our stroll, and I've worried that I would forget some of the details. This modest walk works just as well, I think, for individuals who are not women from British Columbia. It's fun, though, to walk around with Canadian women who stop and notice beautiful buildings, ask a lot of questions and take about a million digital photographs. See if you can go find some.

Members of a book club, these women have known one another for years and so could handle the pressure of cramming every major New York tourist attraction into five days, sleep four to a room and still manage to stay friends. This group trip, a kind of Extreme Girls Night Out, was organized by a New York-crazed woman who had discovered Walking Off the Big Apple during the preparations for the trip and then had forced the others to read it. ("Oh Canada, we stand on guard for thee!"). She wrote and asked if we could all meet and walk around, and I had to think about it because I don't give tours in real life. I decided I was honored enough by her letter and so would make an exception for her group.

We met on a bright Sunday afternoon at the Shake Shack in Madison Square Park, and there we all exchanged lively introductions. If you care, I wore a bright red coat, dark sunglasses and a black hat. Highlights of the walk included the Met Life Building, the New York Life Building, Gramercy Park, a high-end pet boutique, and the Block Beautiful on 19th St. Somewhere along in there members of the group spotted a gigantic parrot in the window of a townhouse, and it looked to us like it occupied its own room.

At the end of the stroll, I led the group into Pete's Tavern. I rushed toward the kindly host and explained that I had sixteen women behind me and we just needed to stand at the bar and drink. He said, "The bartender will take care of you." And so there we stayed for a round of drinks, and then another, with the tavern providing the perfect backdrop for our happy new mutual acquaintance and the promise to one day walk off Vancouver.

(Quick note: The interactive map above misspells Gramercy.)