Housing Crisis, Boston

My first thoughts were of Dorothy when I came across this sunflower yellow Quaker-style house askew in the Rose Kennedy Greenway in downtown Boston. Was there a dead Brahmin stuck underneath? Actually, all Oz allusions were accidental, according to Brooklyn artist Mark Reigelman. He created this art piece, "The Meeting House," from traditional building materials like Eastern white cedar and birch plywood to reference both the residential disruption caused by highway infrastructure projects and the healing qualities of communal civic structures.

As work and chores migrate to the web, I think places where people can gather and talk face to face and make progress as a community become even more appreciated. I've noticed that inviting lounges and shared worktables are super trendy, not just in expected places like hotel lobbies and coffee shops, but also in museums and even gyms. MoMA's new renovation, for example, adds 25-percent more public space, including a stunning second floor cafe and first floor lobby lounge. The stylish entrance space of my newly madeover Equinox gym fuses hotel lobby with high-tech workspace. Gym members give fingers and minds a workout while sitting at long shared work tables with electric outlets, rows of marble cafe tables or on stylish black upholstered chaise lounges. You could spend all day at the gym without breaking a sweat.

The irony is that people using these public work spaces often line up next to each other staring at glowing screens like toddlers in parallel play, communing without communicating. I call it public isolation. Perhaps if a large Meeting House landed in their midst they would put down their screens and talk to each other, which is why I think some people secretly love disasters. When you contrast Reigelman's colorful small house with the large impersonal glass skyscrapers in the distance, which one would you rather play in?

Banana Fish, MA

I've always had a bemused appreciation of carved radishes, pumpkins, watermelons and other spectacular examples of the celebrated Asian and European art of fruit carving. I mean, really, who doesn't love a watermelon turned into a samurai head? However, it's not often you run across a carved banana, and this abstract fruit art from Henrietta's Table in Cambridge, Massachusetts was my first encounter. First, I saw a deboned fish. Next, I saw a caterpillar. The longer I stared, the more it became a Rorschach banana with infinite possibilities.  A dinosaur backbone? A slightly gooey snake?  An intricate wooden block toy puzzle? What do you see? And, more radically, the next time you pick up a knife to cut your summer fruit, what could you make?

Followed, NYC

The minute you enter the vast dark space of "Hansel and Gretel" at the Park Avenue Armory, you have that creepy back-of-your-neck feeling that somebody or something is watching you. Indeed, somebody is. You are being surveilled by overhead night vision cameras and flying drones, and your image is being live-streamed not only to an exhibition room at the front of the Armory, but also to the Internet public here. Above, I'm taking a photo of myself surveilled taking a photo. My image is being captured from above in total darkness and projected in ghostly white onto the armory's floor.

The unsettling installation was conceived and designed by artist/activist Ai Weiwei and starchitects Jacques Herzog and Pierre de Meuron to raise questions about the amount of surveillance used not only in war, but in our public spaces. I saw the exhibit the morning after I saw a theater version of George Orwell's "1984" at the Hudson Theater. It was a double helping of art-induced paranoia, courtesy of Big Brother.

It made me wonder who else is watching us, and where? Alexa? Your iPhone? The hobbyist's drone outside your apartment window (yes, this really happened to a friend of mine). The bugged guest room of your host's art-filled glass house (in Elizabeth Strout's new novel, Anything is Possible)? Can we have dignity without privacy? Does spying erode empathy? Let's ask and answer these essential questions before anything becomes possible.

Salad Days, Florence

I'm always looking for ideas to change up my life in little ways. You never know when that one small change will have a domino effect that leads to the big Eureka! This clear globe of colorful mixed salad totally amused me. It was served at breakfast in our small Italian hotel. It reminded me of the little forest terrariums I used to create as a kid and also of those enticing gum ball-style machines with plastic balls containing surprise toys. Imagine if a ball with fresh greens had rolled out of the metal chute! This ingenious presentation made me stop, look and admire. Suddenly, breakfast salad seemed like a perfectly compelling idea. And it has ever since.

The March, USA

I was waffling on whether or not to make and wear a pink #Pussyhat to tomorrow's March NYC (the knit hats are meant to create a striking united visual statement and defiantly reclaim the term "pussy"). But who could resist the opportunity to learn a new craft, bond with fellow female artisans, and express solidarity one stitch at a time? I resolved my conflict over pink by finding this gorgeous ombré yarn, whose color is literally named "Dirty Hippie," and I learned how to crochet from a kind stranger in the store that sold me the yarn. Later today I ran across an ancient male musician in the natural foods store wearing a lavender knit cap that looked suspiciously like a pussyhat, ears and all.  "My God," I thought, "is he in a pussyhat?" He was the first guy I'd seen in one, though I'd seen several young women in pink ones on the streets. My question was answered when I overheard him talking to the guys behind the corner. "I'm wearing a pussyhat!" he said proudly. "It's for women."  The young guys behind the corner were simultaneously hysterical and skeptical. "He's telling the truth," I said, "and I've got mine in my purse!" I pulled it out and waved it at them. They were dumbstruck.  "Thank you," said the lavender hat wearer, "as they just know me as a crazy musician who makes up crazy stories." I'd love to know where he got his and whether he might have knit it himself. If I ever see him again I'll be sure to ask. 

Bar with a View, Grand Central

Shelves beg a million questions. On bookshelves, for example, better to arrange by height and width, by category, or even alphabetical? And what about bar shelves? Designers of the most beautiful hand-milled bars often leave the view of the shelves behind the bar to the whims of the bartender.

At Agern, a 110-seat Scandinavian restaurant tucked away inside a new (and beautifully) renovated space inside Grand Central Terminal, the thoughtful arrangement of glasses and bottles on backlit bar shelves masters this design dilemma. Though the restaurant is completely internal, the stunning jewel-like design creates a rectangular light "window"  with chevron-patterned glass panes behind the bar that opens up the space. The inviting array of artisan shapes and arty labels bring to mind a magical alchemist's shop. And while the general arrangement doesn't show a slavish devotion to height or width, it captivates precisely because the bottles are not uniform or mass-manufactured and the liquids inside them glow.

Also behind the bar are two of the most professional and friendly young bartenders working anywhere. Cheers to them! You can't help but admire how they work to maintain the view.

Under Construction, NYC

Construction peepholes are irresistible. For people like me, the chance to watch large machines at work as they dig and move dirt stops time cold. The view is never as surprising and disturbing as Marcel DuChamp's Étant Donnés at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, but I always think of that weird and mysterious artwork nonetheless whenever I stop to sneak a peek through a hole in the wall at a building site.

Pet Rocks, NYC

As the world's population shifts to cities, it's time to think about where to find nature. I've long felt that New York City's abundant great parks are what make the city livable: in other words, not the buildings and streets themselves but the green spaces between them. The lack of nature can make you so anxious and depressed that there is even a term, Nature Deficit Disorder (NDD), for children who don't get get outdoors enough. Meanwhile, the healing Japanese medicinal art of Shinrin Yoku,  forest bathing, holds that guided sensory walks in nature lead to increased feelings of well-being. 

But still, sidewalks can be harrowing places. New York City walking for the non-tourist is not a leisurely stroll but often a nerve-wracking competitive sport. Most streets do not have enough shade or trees, and there are few places to sit and take a break besides bus stop and mid-avenue benches in the middle of traffic. What a lovely surprise then to find this pop-up rock park on a way west Chelsea block.

A little rock sit was the perfect antidote for my pre-election stress and general urban ills. 

As I sat on the granite ledge, I  remembered the inspiring views from the peaks of New Hampshire's  Presidentials. The granite ledges felt very rooting and  took me out of the city's frenetic pace. The rock stop seemed to work well for the arty guys shown above too, even if they did continue checking their phones while they sat or leaned.

Here's what you can do with a city pet rock. You can take a lunch or coffee break with Vitamin N. You can think back to all the mountains you've ever climbed, the views you've enjoyed and the sunsets you've relished. Or you can just strike a pose and check your email. But even if you don't unplug completely, it's still way cooler than sitting on an ordinary wooden park bench. My vote is for big, beautiful slabs of granite all over the city.

Comic Relief, New York City

What with all the 2016 election craziness, the rampant bigotry and depressing news like this recent study of a surge in opioid poisonings of toddlers,  it's not hard to feel sometimes like an alien in your own beloved country. I literally can't believe my own eyes. So this futuristic big-headed mannequin, seen at Bloomingdale's New York, perfectly captured my November vibe right down to her big saucer glasses. After I played with the shot in Mobile Monet I had my "aha" moment: This is it! American life this election season feels like an out of control comic-book world where good and evil forces battle daily for domination.

Boo!

Is it possible for flowers to photo bomb? I could swear this very urban sunflower found growing on a city rooftop farm is saying "Boo"! I love how a foreground object changes scale and heightens impact. The applied chrome filter reminds me of the heightened realism in a David Lynch movie.  This sunflower is scary, but still a lot nicer looking than the the giant man-eating plant, Audrey II, in Little Shop of Horrors.

SEXY PumpkiN, Maine

Pumpkin designers are thinking out of the box. Is it because orange has become such a scary color in the 2016 election season? Or, like heirloom tomato and carrot growers, have they decided that colorful, misshapen, warty and hybrid is just a cooler way to grow. This season I've been surprised by the everywhereness of white, blue, peach, red and even super ugly pumpkins— anything but smooth and orange. I found ghostly white pumpkins with candles in a restaurant bathroom, I stumbled by a natural rainbow of pumpkins at my city fruit market, I read about autumn couleur heirloom pumpkins in The New York Times, and, when I went pumpkin picking in Maine, I walked right by a number of smooth-skinned Jacks to pick the quite voluptuous (and apparently tasty) Porcelain Beauty shown above. Thank God kids will no longer grow up thinking that pumpkins or even carrots (see my blog post, Purple Carrots, Black Dirt Region) can only be orange. Pumpkin diversity may not save the world, but it will definitely make it brighter. 

Update 3/21/19: Jenreviews.com sent me this step-by-step recipe for fresh whole wheat sage spaghetti with creamy pumpkin sauce you can make from fresh pumpkins. I never thought to pair pasta with pumpkins before!

Cafe Society, NYC

I've walked by this cafe thousands of times and never thought it seemed that authentically French. But after shooting it and applying Prisma's "Illegal Beauty" setting, I'll never look at it the same way again. Once when I was driving a very familiar route home I got lost in thought, and when I began to notice my surroundings again I had no idea where I was. Even though I'd driven that route twice a day for years, I was seeing the road as if for the very first time. I stayed calm and kept driving and a few minutes later found familiar signposts that re-oriented me. The point is that looking and seeing are not the same thing. Art confronts us with that all the time.

My Secret Garden

Maybe I'm late to this art party, but lately I've been having a hilarious time with apps like Pikazo, Lucid, Prisma, Waterlogged, and Mobile Monet that transform your ugly duckling photos into digital swans. I'm not patient enough for adult coloring books, one of the fastest growing segments of the publishing market, but I did once love Paint-by-Number kits. Now,  with the flick of a thumb and a side swipe, I become a museum quality digital painter. Above, look what happened to my mundane photo of arranged flowers with Prisma's "Mosaic" setting on it. Okay, I know it's cheating, but it sure costs less than an MFA.

Heart Coffee, Encinitas

Coffee has always been my drug of choice. At home, I brew my daily cup from the ridiculously dark and rich Rebel Blend from Portland, Maine micro roaster Coffee By Design and then drink it in a Nerd Nation mug from Stanford U. In cafes, I still get excited as a little kid if baristas top off my drink with art to go. The care they take reminds me of a mother's love. The symmetry of this heart-shaped flower on this cappuccino from a cafe in Encinitas, California, gave me a second buzz. On a patio table, it became true outsider art.

Them Apples, Reykjavik

Speaking of cool fruit (see my previous posts on Purple Carrots and Jumbo Blueberries), I was struck by the ability of this decaying green apple to paint a Cy Twombly-inspired line.  The apple was nailed to the wall along with other fruits and vegetables in the exhibit, "Kitchen Pieces," by German conceptual artist Karin Sander at i8 Gallery in Reykjavik (the exhibit closed September 24, 2016).  The veggies wilted under pressure, but this inspired apple took a strong painterly stand. I was pretty impressed by its confident use of positive and negative space, along with its bold improvisation in response to a wall environment. Critics of avant garde art like to dismiss things with "My kid could do that!" Now I might answer,  "But could your apple?"

Jumbo Blueberries, Family Tree Farms

Audiences know that if there is a gun in the first act, it has to go off in the third act. I took this photo of jumbo blueberries near a transparent push pin to show their super sizing (one-inch wide!) but realized I had also made a portrait of dramatic tension. It amazed me how juxtaposition of two common household objects easily suggests a plot. The blueberry's moist, tender skin looks so vulnerable near the tack's sharp steel point that your mind can't help connecting them in unfortunate ways. But, spoiler alert, the pin didn't kill those blueberries in the end. It was teeth that got them.

Purple Carrots, Black Dirt Region

Orange is the new purple. Or at least when it comes to carrots. I bought these beauties from the Black Dirt Region (spanning southern Orange County, NY to northern Sussex County, NJ) after a friend and I decided those convenient bags of machine-cut carrots had more in common with large pencil stubs than they did with vegetables. The funny thing is that purple carrots are actually the authentic carrot color (along with white), but Dutch growers decided in the 16th century to breed to orange.  Purple carrots are more nutritious, with 28 times the amount of antioxidants, according to the Carrot Museum website  and they also color coordinate well with my winking Blue Eyes granite countertop. They're quite amusing to scrape and hilarious to mash. Hey, do you think they grow better in Purple Rain?

Fish Out of Water, Stanford

Silicon Valley would definitely call Athanasius Kircher a disrupter.  The 17th-century intellectual's  weird inventions included a mechanical singing chicken, a vomiting machine and the original version of this stunning magnetic clock with a goldfish that points the time. My first thought upon stumbling across this magnificent clock in the Lane Reading Room inside Stanford's Green Library was that things do not generally end well for goldfish in college settings. But this little guy should last for eternity in artist Caroline Bouguereau's 2001 recreation of Kircher's missing prototype. To remake the clock, she learned both glass blowing and old-method copper-painting with garlic. Her working clock (which runs on electricity instead of hidden magnets, but no complaints) is so incredibly awesome I couldn't take my eyes off it. No matter how you see the globe–clock, mirror, goldfish bowl?–its design and execution make you reflect on the vast mysteries of time and space, and of course on the flipped reflection itself.

Farm Credits, Palo Alto

Let's face it, farm credits (as in menus, not government loans) have had their day. In his hilarious Vanity Fair article, "What Does Farm-to-Table Mean Anymore?" food journalist Corby Kummer debunked many of the pretensions behind the F2T trend last year, one of which is endless lists of artisanal food sources. Nonetheless, these breakfast menu credits at Mayfield Bakery and Cafe in Palo Alto made me smile. Perhaps inspired by the Corporation for Public Broadcasting's closing voiceovers ("made possible by viewers like you"), these gracious credits put the emphasis down on the farm.

Couch Surfing, Solana Beach

This photo gives new meaning to the term "sofa bed." There's no doubt that succulents have been trending for more than two years now, as this 2014 article in Vogue proves. But until I visited the garden of House Vintage in Solana Beach, CA, I'd never seen a planted succulent couch before. The garden of earthly and other delights sprang from the unfettered and quirky design imagination of Debi Beard, who owns Studio/House Vintage and also runs DIY paint classes from her surf town shop. Check out her youtube channel for more demonstrations of wacky things you can do to furniture. Says Debi, "creativity is a survival instinct."