I liked this so much, I bought it. Wendy Klemperer‘s Calling Elk, plasma-cut steel, approx. 20 x 20 x 1/8th, 2008. (Sorry about the strange cropping at the nose.)
Archive for the 'Art Culture Politics' Category
Tags: Staten Island
On Wednesday, I offered up a little slice of heaven in New York City, a NY-state protected piece of Staten Island. Sadly, though, a lot of Staten Island has been turned into hell, another slab of the undifferentiated suburban sprawl that has trashed so much of the rest of the US, through mis-guided development, greed, ignorance and stupidity, and, last but not least, political collusion and corruption. (Not to mention federal and private banking policies that red-lined our own form of suburban apartheid.) My Virgil through the rings of the developers’ underworld of SI was David Burg of WildMetro, an advocacy organization for metropolitan nature. (All opinions here are my own, although David is no slacker when it comes to opinions.) We looked at the Bloomfield lowlands south of the Goethals Bridge, part of a big 676-acre track that had been slated for the obscenity of a NASCAR racing complex, but is now supposed to be filled and re-developed for industrial uses. This area boarders salt marsh, Old Creek, and the Arthur Kill, and is a prime candidate for flooding — Hurricane Sandy debris had to be removed from the site — necessitating massive infill to raise the level 10-20 feet. It’s supposed to be a “marine port and logistics center.” Near where I live in Brooklyn, the existing port facilities go largely unused.
Among other things unused: the centers of many Staten Island towns and villages, hollowed out by the local malls. When the developers and their paid agents the politicos scream “jobs, jobs, jobs!” as the basis for their profit-taking from the commonweal of nature, they mean temporary construction jobs and low-wage service jobs in the big box stores, a smokescreen to prevent you from seeing where other jobs could and should be encouraged. So another mall is going up across the street from the mall on Veterans Road West. The city is spending millions to plant a million trees, while, meanwhile, millions of trees are being chopped into wood chips, as in this pile on an 11-acre site scraped of life. This is a fenced-in thicket between the box store’s parking lot (most of this kind of development is blacktop, parking spaces, flat expanses of nothing in a brute landscape) and road. It’s a parody of a “nature preserve,” in which the last of the very rare Torrey’s Mountain Mint, elegized here by my friend Marielle Anzelone, grows. It’s like a Guantanamo for flowers, noted David. The caged plants are symbolic of an entire meadow and surrounding forest habitat lost, the remnants slowly being choked with vines. It isn’t just in Africa where preserves barely hold onto species. Another habitat island: some unusual Blackjack Oak (Quercus marilandica). The only place this species is found in New York State is here on Staten Island. There are some protected stands in the nearby Clay Pits Pond State Park, along with the tree’s near-twin Post Oak, (they are barrens-siblings), but this thicket was just there, in no-person’s zone, hence vulnerable to so many whims.
Someone told me recently my posts were getting heavy lately with reports of invertebrate numbers crashing, Passenger Pigeons passing, bees, bats, monarchs etc. But that’s the reality of our times, and our responsibility. Still, let let me end here on a bit of optimism:Salt marsh. Green Herons. Fiddler crabs. Blue crabs. Right next to the Arthur Kill.
Tags: birding, birds
One hundred years ago today, Martha died of old age in Cincinnati. She was 29 years old and had been raised since birth in captivity. She never reproduced.Martha was the last of her species, the Passenger Pigeons (Ectopistes migratorius). Of course, by the time of her demise, the species was already functionally extinct in the wild. She was the coda, the famous last one perching. From billions to one to none in a century. Just thirty years previously, hunters were killing 50,000 Passenger Pigeons a day at one of the last big breeding sites, in Michigan. And further back, in 1813 Kentucky, J.J. Audubon and company famously saw them darken the sky for three days running. There were more Passenger Pigeons, it has been estimated, then there are now birds of all migratory species in North America. But isn’t there something wrong with those numbers? They don’t seem right: how could that kind of population be sustained? It probably couldn’t have, and may very well have been a result of the radical transformation of the colonial American landscape in the first place. European settlers quickly reduced the pigeon’s competitors — mice, squirrel, turkey, deer, etc., and of course the local humans — for mast — acorns, beechnuts, chestnuts, walnuts, etc. — setting the stage for an astonishing boom. The inevitable bust, however, was driven to extremity by a combination of forest clearance and unparalleled slaughter. The photo above is from late in the game, the late 1880s, after a slaughter for this cheap source of protein.
So when you remember this lonely caged pigeon today, think of the whole continent, the whole world, behind her. That’s what is gone.
Noticing a pattern? These citizen-science projects are concerned with dwindling numbers of particular insects, micro-studies in population decline and disappearance. Start putting them together and you realize that the recent study in Science which found a 45% drop in invertebrate populations over the last four decades, is the bigger picture. The reasons: habitat loss, climate change, invasive disruption, and wholesale application of poisons (insecticides). The article cited makes the point that there is much we don’t know about these animals and their long evolutionary place in the world, although we have some ideas. They are fundamental to life on earth. I loathe the term “ecological services” since it suggests that nature is akin to the capitalist system, which it isn’t, but the ecological reality of insects is that they are key to pollination, waste-disposal, soil health, and the populations of amphibians/reptiles, birds, and mammals that eat them.
But few of them are cute, furry, or have adorable scrunchy faces that make people squeal in excitement. You’re unlikely to find a YouTube of a wasp hugging a roach. These are problems: if you don’t know about them (or hardly even notice them), and don’t care about them, then you’re unlikely to do anything about their disappearance. For instance, nobody likes flies. But you don’t have to like something to appreciate the part they play in the world. This is a Flesh Fly (Sarcophaga pernix), damned right off by both its common and scientific names. Yet without the likes of this creature, we’d be up to our necks in much slower rotting carcasses and shit.
I’ll be leading these tours in the next few weeks:
August 27 and Sept 4, 9pm: Prospect Park ~ Night Listening with Brooklyn Brainery. Join us as we listen to the night. Register at the link. $5 (Updated: 8/27 is full, but there are still spots for 9/4.)
September 3rd, 6pm: Brooklyn Bridge Park ~ Bugs and Blooms. RSVP at link.
Ridgewood Reservoir is a unique natural area in a city starved of them. The reservoir basins were drained, abandoned, and fenced decades ago, and, as it will, nature moved in. The powers that be generally frown on such things, instead of fostering them. Here’s a petition I urge you to read and sign to prevent these sunken gardens from being developed.
Sunday, September 21st is the People’s Climate March here in NYC. Your grandchildren will be expecting you to have been there.
Today is Open House New York‘s Art Deco Scavenger Hunt, which I’m taking part in, so I wanted to share with you some of the city’s Art Deco wonders because many were inspired by the natural world. These first three photos from the Barclay-Vesey Building, designed by Ralph Walker for the New York Telephone Co.; the building today is utterly dwarfed by the neighboring WTC tower in height, but certainly not in terms of character, quirk, and decoration. “Art Deco” is a fairly loose term, but we tend to know it when we see it. The name is derived from the title of the 1925 L’Exposition internationale des arts décoratifs et industrials moderns in Paris; the tendency — it was never really a movement of manifesto and/or school — flowered between the two world wars. Jazz age streamlined, it is above all eclectic, incorporating cubist and medieval aspects, the machine age and the iconography of ancient civilizations; such crafts as stone-carving and metal-working with high steel and advanced, for the day, communications. Some have called it modern classical; it was definitely not Modernism, the “International Style” of white boxes, which triumphed in the long run. Above is a detail of the original RCA Victor building at Lexington & 51st; subtly chamfered at the corners so that its narrow tower is actually eight-sided, this brick high-rise miraculously complements the church it towers over, the peak to its foothills; its spire-top, with its geometric lightning bolts and stylized faces with flame-like halos, is I think, a match for the Chrysler’s stainless steel rays as the most exciting in the city.
Virtually every building today is an interchangeable glass box or rectangle. That shit is cheap, after all, and that’s what counts to the tiny minds in charge, cost/revenue per sq. ft. But when you look at New York City’s skyscrapers, which buildings stand out? Which ones ones do you love? Sure, I like the Lever Building, most particularly its (open) secret brick spine, and, across the street, the Seagram’s Building has its moments, but I love the Chrysler Building, and 70 Pine St (originally Cities Service), and 20 Exchange (originally City Bank-Farmer’ Trust). There is no exuberance or joie de vie in a shiny, reflective glass slab on a grid of steel. There is no detail for the human eye, the human imagination, to grasp ahold of. Often, there is nothing human at all in these cold, corporate command and control towers, and their offshoots, the blank apartment towers.The bronze frieze above the ground floor of the Chanin Building tells a loopy story of evolution on the three exposed sides: 42nd, Lexington, and 41st Sts.But keep looking up, because the forth floor has this band of lush foliage running around it. The Chanins were developers, no doubt as ruthless swine as their contemporary manifestations; but compare their face to the world with Donald Trump’s brute gracelessness. The Chanin lobby is also amazing, as are many of the lobbies is in these buildings. (Sadly, the lock-down state prevents many of them from being open to the public). One lobby that is still open is the Chryster’s Building. Imagine going up in those elevators ever day! The Chanin is diagonal the intersection from the Chyrsler’s stainless steel raptor and winged hubcap gargoyles, making this intersection the veritable Art Deco heart of the city.I don’t need a building to reflect the sky when I can look at the sky. Consider the moral, philosophical, political distinctions between the cold and the warm, between the individual and the group, between citizen and corporation.