About Me

Cancer, +15

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

I simply can’t let this February end without pausing to give Thanks. 15 years ago, in February, 2007, I was treated for cancer by the brilliant Dr. David Samadi and his team at Columbia Presbyterian Hospital.

He, and they, saved my life.

After diagnosis, I had five opinions as to what I should do. One doctor told me I had a 20% chance of getting through year 1 without needing additional treatment. I am now in Year 15 WITHOUT additional treatment! Suffice it to say I’m so lucky to be here. That thought follows me every single second of my life. 

There are no words worthy of the thanks & gratitude I feel to everyone involved in my treatment. What could possibly say “thank you” for BEING ALIVE?

As a writer, the only way I can begin to pay it back, I felt, was to put my experiences down on digital paper and publish them here in the hope that other newly diagnosed patients might find something of value to them in my experiences, or at least know that they aren’t alone. Unfortunately, so many have been down this road, and too many have died along it, that almost everyone knows someone for who’s been a cancer patient, and so most of our lives have been touched by it.

After surgery, I awoke slowly in the recovery room, where I would eventually lay for an hour and a half before anyone came over to me. As I recount in my piece, when I began to open my eyes, I saw something that looked like this doorway I shot in February, 2010. In my piece I ran the original version of this picture. The new version is much closer to how it really looked. The experience left me wondering if I was still alive. Part of me has lived that way since.

Since getting my life back on track, I decided to share my love & passion for Art here, for free, since 2015. In February, 2017, on the 10th Anniversary of my life being saved, I wrote about my entire experience with cancer- before, during & after, including the mistakes I made, in a piece called “Cancer Saved My Life,” which may be read here. In 2018, I interviewed Iranian Photographer, and fellow cancer patient- now cancer survivor, Shazhrzad Darafsheh in a piece here.

These past two years, in particular, have been very hard on everyone. I’ve spent them in virtual seclusion (minus 8 hours). I just dealt with a mysterious illness (not related to cancer or covid, as far as I know) that hospitalized me, sent me to the ER twice, and left me with another condition still to be addressed. I’m sure everyone has their covid difficulties stories. But no mind, I give thanks for every blessing I have, and thanks the first thing when I wake each morning. That’s IF I’m actually still alive.

I also remain thankful for every single person who’s taken the time to read these pieces. The support I’ve received & the friendships I’ve made because of NighthawkNYC are the reasons I’ve continued it.

A support bracket I made in late 2006.

This Post is dedicated to all those, and all those I know, who are my fellow cancer patients and cancer survivors. Sharing experiences helped me survive. I only hope mine may be of help to someone else. 

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “(The Angels Wanna Wear My) Red Shoes,” by Elvis Costello from My Aim Is True, 1977. Genius.com does a good job of explaining why I chose it. 

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded & ad-free for over 7 years, during which over 275 full length pieces have been published! If you’ve found it worthwhile, PLEASE donate to allow me to continue below. Thank you, Kenn.

You can also support it by buying Art, Art & Photography books, and Music from my collection! Books may be found here. Music here and here. 

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited. To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here. Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them. Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

A Year Without Art

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Part 1- A Hush All Over The World

Last call. Hudson River, 7:30pm, May 30, 2020. Immediately after I took this I had to hurry home to be off the streets before the 8pm curfew, the first time in my life I’ve lived under a curfew, let alone one during a pandemic. The scene, with the light going out, fits the reality of life at that moment.

It was exactly a year since I was able to see Art when I left The Met Breuer on March 8, 2020, for what turned out to be its last day ever, with the NYC covid shutdown commencing the following day, It was longer than I thought it would be that day, but much shorter than I thought it would be when we were in the heart of the shutdown with the City being the epicenter of one of the worst outbreaks of the virus to that point a few months later. Over 32,000 have died from covid in NYC alone as I write this. I count myself lucky not to be one.

Galleries on West 19th Street, June 4, 2020.

Since I started regularly going to see Art in 1980, this was the longest I hadn’t been able to do so in person.

Someone posted this captioned photo on a window of the shuttered Park Restaurant that summed up one aspect of life in NYC in the pandemic. Here I need to clear something up. In April, 2020, I posted a slideshow of a “deserted” NYC. Yes, the streets were empty- day and night. But that was largely because everyone was staying home- as they should have, and only going out for essential errands.

During that time, a time I spent entirely alone (450+ days, and counting), Art & PhotoBooks were my friends and family. They enabled me to keep seeing & exploring Art & Photography, and actually continue to discover Artists & Photographers. Of course, during the shutdown, the only way I could see books were in my library or by USPS delivery. 

I must digress here. 

The shadows half engulf the embattled  West 18th Street Post Office, May 29, 2020, during the height of the pandemic in NYC and during the height of the discussion about cutting the funding of the USPS. Yet, through it all, Manager Miss Lloyd and staff showed up almost every day and persevered throughout enabling people like me to get potentially life-saving supplies.

My debt to the Post Office goes much deeper. In a pandemic everything quickly disappears from store shelves. All I had was a bandana until the USPS was able to deliver some masks to me in July. Isopropyl Alcohol took a while longer to find, and I finally found some in a store after months of looking.

The new normal. The line for Trader Joe’s extends hundreds of feet down the street to the left and 100 feet in front. April 5, 2021.

Through it all, the staff at Trader Joe’s were positively heroic in keeping this community going, only closing for a couple days here and there when a team member got sick for extra cleaning. Completely uncharted ground for them, they quickly emerged as a role model business in terms of how they adapted and carried on, modifying and inventing procedures to keep their team and the public safe. 

ALL of these heroic essential workers deserve our highest thanks and gratitude. If and when this ends, there should be a parade for them down the Canyon of Heroes.

I don’t know what to say about the countless medical professionals who hung in there during the worst of times, especially those who treated me right in the middle of it for a non-covid related condition, and particularly those who lost their lives trying to help and save others. The tragic story of Dr. Lorna Breen, who worked for the hospital that saved my life in February, 2007, broke my heart when I heard about it. “It’s OK Not To Be OK” were words I took seriously. They are wise- to a point.

Only you can judge if you need real, professional, help, or not, when you are locked down, or overwhelmed, as Dr. Breen apparently was. As a victim of suicide, I can’t stress enough that while it is “OK Not To Be OK” for a while, if you continue to not be OK, reach out and get help- by phone, online, or in person. 

Outdoor dining in the middle of winter in a structure built right IN West 17th Street. February 20,2021. Yes, that structure, and many others, was built right in the street! I admire the creativity restaurants showed in staying open once they were allowed to, though it seemed too unsafe for me. Their creative mindset is an example for other businesses struggling to survive the pandemic.

Many of them did not. In April, the legendary Eisenberg’s Sandwich Shop, 174 Fiffh Avenue, closed after 92 years. I doubt the space was ever remodeled in that time allowing you to walk into the past anytime you went in. It was one of Anthony Bourdain Top Restaurants (#11) in NYC, and one of mine. Every time a place like this closes a part of NYC goes with it, probably never to be replaced. While, many high end galleries got SMA loans, which continues to mystify me, most small businesses did not.

Spending so much time on my own, what did I do besides read Art & PhotoBooks? I took pictures every single day, during excursions I timed when almost no one would be out. I did no writing, but a lot of thinking. I dipped my toe into the ocean of Instagram, though I am no fan of monopolistic social media as it is. It was a VERY strange feeling walking around without a list of Art shows to go see in my pocket. What to do? I just wandered aimlessly, and sure enough, I saw something new, surprising or shocking, which takes a lot after 30 years of living here.

Other than that, I have been silent. Still, much to my surprise, readership continues to climb, which I try to not think means that people like the site better without me, and I continue to hear from readers all over the world. As always, Thank You for reading my pieces. I hope this finds you & yours well where it finds you. 

Coming Attractions? This window on a shuttered multiplex movie theater usually features posters of what’s playing or coming. Now it serves to make me wonder what the future holds. February, 2021.

I’m a different man than I was when I left The Met Breuer on March 8, 2020. I had NO idea what I, NYC, or the world was in for in the coming weeks and months. Much still remains unknown. I’ve survived the worst of the covid pandemic in NYC (knocking hard on wood). Along the way, I’ve survived a number of unrelated crisis that were made exponentially more difficult because everything was closed here. Yet, I got through all of them with no help from anyone, except those mentioned above.

A covid testing facility in the Flatiron after hours.

As the vaccine took effect, I turned my sights to going to see Art, again. Yet, I say that with a certain amount of guilt. There are too many, many, many people in this country and around the world without access to the vaccine! And, there’s little to no information as to when they might get it. The pandemic has been horribly managed virtually everywhere in the world. If the distribution of the vaccine continues to be as badly managed, any recovery will also be delayed. At the cost of how many more lives?

A woman about to be vaccinated. The Javitz Convention Center has been put to good public use since covid hit. First as a US Army Temporary Hospital last year, and now as a mass vax site. I was vaccinated here twice, the first time I’d set foot in the place since it opened in 1986. If you’re on the fence about getting it? For the record I had absolutely NO SIDE EFFECTS either time. None. Zero. Not even a sore arm. Two weeks after Pfizer shot #2 it was fully effective I was told by the Registered Nurse who gave it to me.

And, I’ve yet to hear anyone mention something else very important- It’s almost MIRACULOUS that a covid vaccine has been developed in a year!

Look at the history of pandemics and scourges. 2021 marks FORTY years since the CDC first officially reported what would be called AIDS, there is STILL no HIV vaccine! William Shakespeare lived his entire life under the threat of the plague, which devastated London no less than 3 times during his lifetime. The plague was a scourge that lasted from 1350 to well into the 1800s! So, WE ARE INCREDIBLY LUCKY a vaccine was found so quickly. I shutter to think what 1, 2, 3 more years without a vaccine would have looked like.

Why I digressed…

Art, unless you make it yourself, is a luxury, “important” only once the main necessities of life and well-being have been covered. As I ventured back to see Art I had everything I’ve said thus far, and everything I’ve been through this past year, on my mind. 

Part 2- Temperature Check

The Met’s famous main entrance, gated, during the 5 months it was closed, unprecedented in my lifetime, May 21, 2020.

Going to The Met or MoMA now (April, 2021) is a very, very strange experience.

MoMA, Main Lobby Entrance, April 29, 2021. Even 5 minutes before closing I NEVER saw it like this. This is usually crowded with people and staff. It’s daytime! Note the sun streaming in from the famous Sculpture Garden directly behind me.

They were both almost entirely empty on weekdays when I’ve been there. In some ways, it’s a dream for me. I can have almost any gallery I want completely to myself.

The Met’s Roofdeck, April 22, 2021. Looking around, I felt that perhaps I wasn’t supposed to be here? But, there is a guard way off on the left.

The only exceptions were The Met’s dual blockbuster shows- Goya’s Graphic Imagination and Alice Neel: People Come First. The times I went I waited 15 minutes to get in to each show.

April 22, 2021. This terrific show opened in early February, when virtually no one had been vaccinated and closed on May 2nd as more were just beginning to be. Very unfortunate timing for a great and timely show of work too rarely seen in this depth & breath due to their fragility.

On subsequent visits I asked people in the front of the line how long they waited and they also responded 15 minutes. The lines are due to The Met’s safety procedures and not letting the galleries get too crowded so visitors can maintain distance. Once inside, I thought they were “comfortably” occupied with ample distance. The lines are interesting because the Goya show was about to end on May 2nd, which generally would cause lines to get in, pre-pandemic, but the Alice Neel show had only opened on March 22nd. That means expect longer lines to see it as the summer progresses. Both shows will live on and continue to be discussed. I am disappointed The Met did not extend the Goya show, or schedule it to open later in the year, so more people could see it as more are vaccinated. Alice Neel: People Come First is a landmark show, perhaps the most important Painting show in NYC since Kerry James Marshall: Mastry because it demonstrates how contemporary Alice Neel remains- as a woman, an Artist/mother and as a thinker and activist. Her position in the canon of great Artists of the 20th century had been established by the regular shows her work has increasingly received over time, including the Whitney Retrospective on the centennial of her birth in 2000, and most recently, Alice Neel, Uptown at Zwirner in 2017, which I covered. 

The boarded up Hauser & Wirth Gallery, an SMA Loan grantee, on West 22nd Street behind Joseph Beuys columnar basalt stone, June 4, 2020. Public Art, like the Beuys seen here, was not boarded up.

Elsewhere around town, most galleries seem to be open for business, those that are left that is, each with their own terms. The carnage that has devastated small business has not spared the smaller galleries. A walk down West 26th Street showed that perhaps 50% of galleries are gone (It could be higher since some entire multi floor buildings were devoted to galleries and I have not gone into them to do a headcount). Among the survivors, some will let you right in. Some with an appointment only. Some are requiring info for contact tracing and/or temperature checks, all are requiring masks and distancing. That’s from reading signs on the doors as I walk past. I’ve only been to a few gallery shows. From the email I get, the number of shows is drastically lower than it was. It should be said that the summer is always slow(er) here so perhaps galleries are getting ready to be more active post-Labor Day. I also haven’t been able to get a sense of Art world employment and the current status of the many who were laid off or furloughed during the shutdown. 

Never say Never is just one lesson of 2020.

As for the Art market, I have noticed some softening in asking prices around town, though of course that depends on who and what we’re talking about1. Is this a buying op, or a harbinger of a long overdue market correction? It’s still very early in the recovery (if it is the recovery), and a bit hard to tell where things are heading,

11th Avenue, April 8, 2021.

It seems to me that most of it will depend on how quickly more people get vaccinated everywhere around the world so the world as a whole can begin to recover. Art is global, made & traded virtually everywhere, but that’s only one instance of how interconnected everyone and everything is. As poorly as the covid crisis has been handled everywhere much now depends on how well the global vaccine distribution is handled. The pandemic will only end as quickly as the vaccines can reach those who need it. Only then can the world truly begin to heal and a real recovery begin.

And we can can get back to exploring Art.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “Spring Is Here,” composed by Richard Rogers & Lorenz Hart and recorded by Frank Sinatra on his immortal Sings For Only The Lonely, 1958. Rogers & Hart are among the very greatest songwriters of all time in my opinion and Lorenz Hart’s lyrics remain extremely under appreciated. Heard here in a gorgeous 2018 stereo mix where you can fully appreciate the brilliant arrangement by Nelson Riddle-

“Once there was a thing called spring
When the world was writing verses like yours and mine
All the lads and girls would sing
When we sat at little tables and drank May wine
Now April, May and June are sadly out of tune
Life has stuck a pin in the balloon
Spring is here! Why doesn’t my heart go dancing?”

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

 

  1. The auction market seems to still be as strong as ever. Auctions are primarily resales of Art, whereas many galleries are selling new Art. ↩

December 8th, 1980-2020

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

Tales from Isolation. Day #322

Two Days In My Life

After my early young adulthood as an Art lover, and before I focused on Art, again, I spent about 15 years in Music. Early on, I was on the road with a band, based out of Miami, Florida, for five years. Towards the end of 1980, things were getting really bad in South Florida, inspiring the TV show “Miami Vice,” which after having lived through the reality, I found hysterical. It got so bad, the word was that there so many murders the only cases that were being investigated were when a cop was killed.

My Axe. My blonde 1976 Fender Jazz Bass. The color darkened from 4 years of playing in smoke-filled clubs, rests on my way worn Gig Bag.

Around this time, we took a gig playing a party in Coconut Grove. Not something we ever did- before or after, but it was for a friend of a friend who loved the band, and we liked the idea. “Hey, I’m having a big party and it would be so great if you guys came and played” kind of thing. He made it worth our while to take our gear off the stage of the club we were house band at on Miracle Mile, so what the heck. It was an afternoon outdoor job, and we were up on a hill looking down over the large lawn on a road between us and a row of houses lining the water. Suddenly, a group of police cars descended on the scene across that road. It was a raid. A drug bust. Then the host/our boss for this gig, came over and said “Keep playing.” When trouble starts in a club or a bar, the boss ALWAYS comes over and says “Keep playing,” (like I imagine the boss did on the Titanic) while everyone else is falling all over themselves rushing to get to the exit. “Keep playing.” Like when a riot broke out in a biker bar we were playing in. But that’s a different story.

My blonde 1978 Fender Fretless Precision Bass. I went Fretless after I met the late, great Jaco Pastorius, the genius of the Bass, and a Fretless player, in 1977.

It’s funny how the guys from the union, the AF of M, are never around at those times- only when someone playing was not a member. We looked at each other, the girls dancing in bikinis in front of us, glanced at our cars parked behind us, and then at the unfolding drama going on across the street in front of us. Don Johnson’s got nothing on me. I’m living vice in Miami. 

If gunplay broke out, we might well be in the innocent line of fire, like too many others, before or since. 

Luckily, it proceeded without bullets, a line of cops escorting suspects emerged, and that was the final scene on a long and eventful road trip, full of  unexpected turns, on my journey into full adulthood. Time to go. It so happens that Paul, a friend in another band I had worked with, called to say he was leaving and moving to NYC. He offered to take my stuff with him if I wanted to get out.  

Hmmmm…After some thought, and discussion with my then girlfriend, a local, I decided to take him up on it and move back. Paul and his girlfriend, who went from being a waitress a few years earlier, to being a member of an internationally known band (not her boyfriend’s) a few years later, pulled up with a large trailer hooked to their car and the three of us loaded all of my belongings into it, and off they went. 

A few days later, I got into my Porsche 914 and drove it from Miami to Orlando and we both got on the AutoTrain. I had made the complete 27 hour nonstop Miami to NYC drive too many times to do it once more. The ride was pleasant enough, though I didn’t get much, if any, sleep, and woke early on Monday, December 8th, 1980. After detraining near Washington, DC, I drove the rest of the 5+ hours to NYC, where the rest of my life would begin.

Shortly after I arrived at my parent’s house I heard the news that John Lennon had just been shot and killed in Manhattan, outside his home at The Dakota. 

WHAT??????!

Bob Gruen, John Lennon- Statue of Liberty, 1974, Magnum Photos.

It was just unfathomable. It still is. Even for someone who lived through JFK’s assassination, and saw Oswald get killed, live, on television. Someone who had heard RFK’s assassination live on the radio. Someone who had lived through the assassination of Martin Luther King. Someone who remembers Malcolm X getting murdered. Murder is not something you ever “get used to.” Murder of such great men, each cut down in their prime, is a crime against humanity.

And murder was exactly why I left Miami!

So began the rest of my life…

December 8th, 2020

I took the C train uptown and got off at West 72nd Street to go The Dakota to pay my respects. Arriving, I was greeted on the platform by Yoko Ono’s transformative Sky mosaic mural. The north side of the station, ironically, is directly underneath The Dakota, where Yoko still lives, I believe1.

Yoko Ono, Detail from Sky, Tile mosaic, West 72nd Street B,C Station, underneath The Dakota, December 8, 2020.

After admiring it and its “Imagine Peace” section, and thinking, “Gee, countless millennia of war hasn’t worked out so well, maybe it IS time to give peace a chance…?,” I headed up the stairs and was greeted by a sky that looked remarkably like the mural.

“…above us only sky…” Exiting the 72nd Street Station at Central Park West, with The Dakota looming on the left, December 8, 2020.

I turned the corner onto West 72nd Street and was greeted by no one. The sidewalk was empty. Down the block, in front of The Dakota, where it happened, stood two uniformed building employees, as usual. I stood for a few minutes on the sidewalk, taking in the scene, and thinking about what had happened 40 years ago today.

The Dakota, West 72nd Street, December 8, 2020.

It almost seemed like I was there on the wrong day. Then, I spotted one small bouquet left by a family.

Across Central Park West, looking into Central Park, I could see a long line of visitors waiting to enter the Strawberry Fields section of the Park, but no one else was here, allowing me a private moment in a place where many people live, but which has always reminded me of this day 40 years ago whenever I’ve passed it.

I walked down the street until I came to the spot. I stood there, briefly, alone with the 2 Dakota staff members.

The Dakota, West 72nd Street, December 8, 2020.

In NYC, particularly in Manhattan, everywhere you look and everywhere you walk, you’re walking on history. And the place is not nearly as old as any city in Europe or many other cities elsewhere. Here is one such spot. Passing it now, you’d have absolutely no idea something horrible and world changing happened right here, because it happened 40 years ago. 40 Years. John Lennon was born on October 9, 1940, during the Nazi Blitz of Liverpool. He had just turned 40 when he died. He’s now been dead for almost as long as he was alive.

My thoughts turned to another fact, as what had happened in all that time raced through my mind. Each and every time something’s happened, like 9/11, and all the rest, sooner or later, I wondered- “What would John Lennon say right now?” In addition to everything else he was, Liverpool’s John Lennon was one of our most prominent, and proud, New Yorkers, and a citizen of the world.

Bob Gruen, John Lennon, NYC, 1974. Magnum Photos. NYC in 1974 is light years from the NYC of 2020. It speaks volumes to me that he was so proud to live here then. This t shirt has been on sale here to this day, probably because of this Photo.

On December 8th, 1980, we were all denied knowing

for the rest of time. 

Now, as I sit here after getting back from West 72nd Street, I’m left to wonder- How would the world have been different? 

If you think that’s a questionable question, consider this- There are some who believe that The Beatles played a roll, perhaps the KEY role, in the collapse of the USSR2, in spite of all the countless billions spent to do it by other means, as seen in the PBS Documentary, “How the Beatles Rocked the Kremlin,” from 2009. A grainy video of Part 1, is below (Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5)-

If that’s not helping “give peace a chance,”  I’m not sure we’ve seen much else that is. It’s something that needs to be more closely studied, I think. If it’s true, then we’ve VASTLY underestimated the achievement of the Beatles, already the most revolutionary cultural force of my lifetime. And, we’ve completely ignored the lesson.

Even still, there are hundreds of millions who would have been very interested in what John Lennon had to say on any topic had he lived. Like there would have been to hear what JFK, RFK, MLK or Malcolm X would have said had they lived. 

If all of them had lived, I think this world would be quite a different place today. Along with John’s loss, today I mourn that. Again. 

Yoko Ono, Another detail from Sky, Mosaic, West 72nd Street B,C Station, underneath The Dakota, December 8, 2020.

December 8th, 1980 was a day my life, and the world, changed. Neither have been the same since. It’s up to those who remember those we’ve lost to keep their memory & their messages alive.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “Imagine” by John Lennon.

You can now follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram for news and additional Photos!

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

 

  1. I greatly admire Yoko Ono, for many reasons, not the least of which is the supreme grace with which she handled John’s passing publicly. As an Artist, I believe she is still under-appreciated. My pieces on her work to date are here and here. ↩
  2. Here, ↩

FIVE YEARS OF NIGHTHAWKNYC!

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

It’s hard to believe that July 15, 2020 marks the FIFTH Anniversary of this site.

Somehow I got here. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t always pretty. There were countless times when I said, “That’s it” to myself, but then kept going. Well over 250 pieces published in about 260 weeks- I never thought I would maintain that kind of pace, and don’t hold me to it going forward!

My thanks to each and every one of you who has taken the time to read one of them, and especially to those who’ve taken the time to read most, even all of them. You’re truly people after my own heart especially since my subjects and interests tend to range all over the map from one end to the other from piece to piece. If I looked at them all one after another I’m sure I’d shake my head at the range they cover, and, perhaps, that’s the thing I’m proud of, but I’d sure wonder how anyone would want to stay with me. Yet, the numbers have gone up each year, and I hear from people in the furthest corners of the world, places I’ll never see (it doesn’t help that I still haven’t been out of Manhattan overnight since Feb, 2012!).

My thanks to Kitty for research assistance from time to time and to the museums who’ve been so supportive of my efforts. Mostly, I want to thank all the Artists I’ve met, spoken to, or corresponded with that I’ve written about for trusting me with their work. It’s something I’ve taken very, very seriously.

I never expected NHNYC would take over my life full time, and continue to do so for five years. If you’ve liked anything you’ve seen here, the credit goes to my compatriot-now-partner, Lana Hattan. She pushed me to start this in 2015. If you don’t? The blame is solely mine.

5 Years. Phew! Thank You!, one and all.
Kenn.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

 

Draw!

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

 For The Record #4.

Is Drawing becoming a lost skill in today’s world?

Michelangelo, Archers Shooting at a Herm, Red chalk, seen at The Met’s unforgettable Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman & Designer in 2018.

That would be tragic. For any number of reasons, perhaps the foremost being that I believe Drawing is an essential life skill. The cellphone camera seems to be replacing Drawing for many people, and I think this is shortsighted1. Drawing is a fundamental way that humans have communicated and expressed themselves for many tens of thousands of years. No doubt, even before the advent of writing and language. Its value to Art and Artists over the centuries can be seen in any museum. Beyond Art, Drawing is an important way of putting ideas down, or mapping out your thoughts. It’s an important means of thinking visually that nothing known to me can replace.

An Artist who Draws almost exclusively, Chris Ware’s fold-out cover for the hardcover edition of Jimmy Corrigan: The Smartest Kid on Earth took Drawing in entirely new directions in 2000. It’s part map, part story, part Art, part mind map, yet somehow, it all holds together. And, it also gives one an idea of what the amazing 380 pages inside are like. Is it any wonder the book was seven years in the making?

When I first tried to paint, I immediately realized I needed to work on my drawing, first, to paint the way I wanted to paint (yes, small letters. No Art with a capital A in this case). I proceeded to draw, daily, for the next decade. I still haven’t gone back to painting. Drawing became an obsession for me, both doing it and studying it’s amazing history in Art.

Ingres, Portrait of a Lady, 1815-17, seen at The Met in 2012 in very low light to protect it. I spent the better part of a decade trying to figure out HOW Mr. Ingres created incredible Drawings like this. In Secret Knowledge, David Hockney surmises that he may have used a camera lucida to draw the head from life, then sketched the rest fairly quickly. Regardless, it borders on the miraculous.

As time has gone on, particularly over the past decade, though there have been some monumental museum Drawing shows of work by the masters, I’ve seen fewer and fewer Drawing shows by Contemporary Artists.

An exception. Raymond Pettibon, No Title (It sounds powerful…), Ink, acrylic and collage on paper, 60.5 x 101 inches, seen at Zwiner in 2017.

Along with really looking, and learning to see, Drawing is invaluable in developing an eye. Try drawing anything. It forces you to really see and to really be clear about what you see so you can render it. I spent a few years drawing Sculpture in The American Wing Courtyard in The Met three times a week. One of the great things about that space is that it is faced and covered with glass. The light constantly changes, and if you sat there long enough, which I did countless times, day changed to evening and then to night. This is a real challenge to anyone trying to render an object with a pencil, like it would be to someone Painting outdoors. It forced me to learn how to look hard and fast, before the light I was trying to render changed. Of course, I could have drawn from a Photograph, but I found I learned much more trying to draw a Sculpture on the spot. 

Vincent Van Gogh, Harvest in Provence, 1888, Reed pen, quill and ink over graphite on wove paper, from Vincent Van Gogh: The Drawings. Vincent was one of the first Artists to fascinate me in my early teens when I discovered him in an early visit to MoMA. As time has gone on, I’m still amazed at how he saw the world, which you can really see in his incredible Drawings. Here, he almost Draws in shorthand. Look at the sky, and the way he renders most of the scene using lines and dots. There’s so much to look at, the figures almost disappear. The only thing he’s darkened is the cart in the center. Once you compare this with  the Painting he did of this scene, it might be apparent why.

When I’m first exploring an Artist, I want to see their Drawings. If they haven’t created any, I look into why not. Maybe they can’t Draw? Many Painters, like Richard Estes and Rod Penner, Draw their work directly on their canvases, creating an “Underdrawing,” as have countless Painters for centuries before them, and so don’t make standalone Drawings. If they have created Drawings, I want to see what role Drawing plays in their work, and I want to see what their Drawings reveal about it. Yes, there are Artists I admire who either don’t make separate Drawings or don’t Draw per se, but I’ve come to realize that they are in the minority. 

 

Frank Lloyd Wright’s Drawing of the Winslow House, 1893-7. The actual house may still be seen in Chicago. Drawing seen at MoMA in 2017.

Any number of Architects have made Drawings, often to present their ideas to their clients- Presentation Drawings, like the one above by Frank Lloyd Wright, that are now considered Art. Beyond their beauty, these Drawings serve any number of other purposes from showing an idea to a client, to helping engineers, landscape designers and urban planners understand the project.

Nasreen Mohamedi used Drawing both as the primary discipline of her Art and also for other reasons in other ways, as in her diary, two pages of which appear above, seen at The Met Breuer’s landmark, opening, show of her work in 2016. She, apparently, went back and colored out most of the lined pages but left words or sentences here and there legible. Did she do this for Artistic reasons? As a reminder of things left undone or to be remembered? Or…?

David Byrne, Tree Drawing, from Arboretum.

In 2003, the Musican & Artist David Byrne published his book of “tree drawings,” Arboretum. The fascinating Drawings inside show other ways in which Drawing can be used. He discussed them here. Three are shown here.

David Byrne, Drawing, from Arboretum.

Some border on graphs.

David Byrne, Music Tree, 2002, from Arboretum.

Others on maps.

Three iPad Drawings by David Hockney, seen at The Met’s David Hockney show in 2018.

On the positive side, Technology has brought new ways one can Draw into the world. David Hockney is among the many using the iPad to create museum level Art.

Nasreen Mohamedi Untitled, circa 1970, seen at The Met Breuer in 2016.

In some ways, it’s akin to her Drawings, her primary medium after her early work, and in other ways, it’s not. When I first saw “Untitled,” circa 1970, above, I thought it was a piece of fabric. I stood in front of it for almost 30 minutes in utter disbelief that it was a Drawing, and one of THE most amazing I’ve ever seen. I subsequently christened the late Ms. Mohamedi, “The Goddess of Line.” It was said that “She was one person who was always in tune- life, work, the way she dressed, how she talked, behaved- each always totally in tune with the other, one straight line2.” During her lifetime, she was largely unknown, and so she gave many of her pieces away as gifts. Eventually, a crippling illness robbed her of her ability to Draw, before tragically taking her life at just 53 in 1990.

Ms. Mohamedi taught, and those she came in contact with have continued to spread her name and influence. Thankfully, currently and in the recent past, there are other Artists, like Mr. Hockney, William Kentridge, Raymond Pettibon, Marcel Dzama, Kara Walker, Jean-Michel Basquiat, R. Crumb and Chris Ware for whom Drawing is central to their Art. My hope is they, and all the other Artists who Draw, inspire the next generations of Artists to continue Drawing, if schools continue to stop teaching it. The Met, MoMA and many other museums have Drawing workshops, but beyond Art, institutions in other realms, and businesses, benefit from Drawings to no end. They have a stake in this, too. It’s going to take many people and organizations from all walks of life who realize what’s at stake take action to reverse the direction things seem to be taking. Human creativity has always found ways to express itself. I’m hoping that continues to find popular expression in Drawings. The time is NOW! to make sure. Before it’s too late.

Today, there are infinitely more Drawing tools, and ways to Draw, available than ever before. So, pick up a pencil, or use whatever device you’re reading this on, express yourself, nurture your creativity and ideas, and Draw!

For The Record is a series of pieces that are about key/core subjects & beliefs that underly everything else I’ve written here. The first three parts are here. 

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

 

  1. David Hockney, the legendary Artist who has Painted, Drawn and Photographed, has spoken at length about the shortcomings of the camera. Over the past three years, I’ve come to agree with him. ↩
  2. Here ↩

“Best” Doesn’t Exist In The Arts

For The Record #3. 

Third- I don’t believe in qualitatively comparing Artist or works of Art. There is no such thing as “Best” in the Arts. Qualitatively comparing Artists or Artworks is pointless. Whatever criteria you use are subjective. In my view, awards and “halls of fame” are pointless. Turn those halls of fames into museums.

Stanley Kubrick, seen here in his 1946 Photograph with “showgirl” Rosemary Williams, at the entrance to the Museum of New York show of his Look Magazine Photographs  never won a “best director” oscar. Neither did Charlie Chaplin. Neither did Alfred Hitchcock. Neither did Orson Welles. Neither has every black, female, Hispanic, or Asian director, ever.

For every award “winner” there are countless others who can also be said to “deserve” to have “won.” I wish all awards would cease. For every “hall of fame” member there are countless others who could have been included. I think they should all be closed and museums opened in their place. All of this being said, I have no problem with those who win awards enjoying them. As contradictory as that may sound, acknowledgement of Artists in any form in this country, particularly, is very hard to come by. It’s not their “fault” they “won.” History shows that all of these awards have missed many others as deserving, and also shows that some of the most important Artists in their fields never won any award- until someone decided late in their career that they better try and “fix” their oversight. The hype and marketing surrounding awards and award winners is meant to make you feel theirs is the final word on the subject. There is NO such thing!

Experience the work for yourself and make up your own mind. See if it speaks to you, or not. At the end of the day, or of the year? That’s ALL that matters.

So, I’ve preferred to use the term “NoteWorthy,” to refer to Art, shows, and books that have lingered with me, have had the most impact, and which I think others should know about so they can make up their own minds about. I also use the term “favorite,” which does not mean “best,” to connote something I personally like, whether or not I think it’s “important” or “NoteWorthy.” We all have what I call “guilty pleasures”- like a song we know is going to be forgotten as soon as we can get it out of our heads!

Screencap from The Metropolitan Opera’s broadcast of Alban Berg’s Lulu, with production design by the great William Kentridge, in 2015.

If something doesn’t speak to you…? Well, if something doesn’t speak to me I try and keep an open mind about it and revisit it one day, sometimes years later. I try and not say “I don’t like it.” I just let it lie with me, continue to think about it, and revisit it later, even years later. At that time, it still may not speak to me, but sometimes it does. In some of those cases the work and the Artist became very important to me. Like Alban Berg and his opera Lulu, which on first hearing may sound completely chaotic. As I listened to more and more Music in more and more styles, my ears opened up. Now, I only hear Mozartean beauty in Lulu, which has become my favorite opera. At other times, I’ve wrestled with Art or Music I just didn’t get. This involved digging deeper into the background of the work and looking or listening harder. Yes, harder. So, I try and always keep an open mind. That being said, there are some things I admit I will NEVER like or appreciate. Hitler was a painter (small ”p” intended), remember? It’s too bad he wasn’t able to get into school, become an Artist, and make a good contribution to the world, instead.

Instead of awards, perhaps give an Artist a grant, a commission, or buy their work, if you want to help them.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “Award Tour” by A Tribe Called Quest from their immortal Midnight Marauders, 1993.

For The Record is a series of pieces that are about key/core subjects & beliefs that underly everything else I’ve written here. The first two parts are here. 

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

 

NYC: APRIL, 2020 – A SLIDESHOW BY KENN SAVA

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

The response to my previous piece, “The Sound of Silence,” has been a bit overwhelming. My thanks to all of you who have read it and especially to those who have taken the time to write. I’ve heard from people all over the world, all of who are also knee-deep in trying to get through the pandemic themself, so I deeply appreciate it. At times like these it’s important to feel we’re in this together.

NYC in April, 2020 has been a month like none I’ve ever experienced. As I write these words, over 18,000 are dead- just in NYC (as of today, May 1st, 2020, per the stats here, which are updated daily). It’s a very rare thing to find the streets of Manhattan empty for a few hours- even well after midnight. To find them that way day after day is something I’ve never seen here before. I began making trips (as safely as possible, usually on foot) to some of the major landmarks of NYC to document what it was like to be there. The experiences left me with a multitude of feelings, as I said in my prior piece, that I’m still processing.

Inspired by a suggestion I received, I’ve decided to expand the concept of that piece, and share more of the Photos I’ve taken in April, 2020, in a slideshow. Yes, after 4 1/2 years of writing about everyone else’s work, I’m sharing some of my own. In it, the title of my previous piece, “The Sound of Silence,” is taken literally since I don’t have permission to use it legally (Dear Paul Simon- May I?)- the soundtrack is silence. It’s designed to be watched fullscreen.

I hope that wherever this finds you, you and yours get through this in good health. Be well.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

 

The Sound of Silence: The Slideshow

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

The response to my previous piece, “The Sound of Silence,” has been a bit overwhelming. My thanks to all of you who have read it and especially to those who have taken the time to write. I’ve heard from people all over the world, all of who are also knee deep in trying to get through the pandemic themself. At times like these it’s important to feel we’re in this together. I hope that wherever these words find you, you and yours get through this in good health.

There’s always Music going on in my mind. So, all of the 228 pieces I’ve written so far have a soundtrack that accompanies the words and the pictures. Never before have I taken one of those soundtracks and made it into a slideshow. Until now. At the suggestion of Lana Hattan, I’ve compiled some of the Photos I’ve taken this month (April, 2020, and only in April, 2020) into a slideshow, extending the concept of my piece, accompanied by the lyrics of the song.

As I completed it, I was shaken to hear of the tragic passing of Dr. Lorna Breen, Medical Director at New York-Presbyterian Allen Hospital yesterday. As an Emergency Room Doctor, she was on the front lines of fighting the coronavirus pandemic.

“She went down in the trenches and was killed by the enemy on the front line. She loved New York and wouldn’t hear of living anywhere else,” her father said.

My life was saved at New York-Presbyterian in 2007, so it is with the deepest respect that I dedicate this slideshow to Dr. Breen, and all those working to get us through this.

Be well.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “The Sound of Silence” by Paul Simon and recorded by Simon & Garfunkel on their debut album Wednesday Morning, 3AM, 1964, with overdubs on the 1966 album, Sounds of Silence and live on Concert in Central Park, recorded in 1981.

Special thanks to Lana Hattan. 

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

 

The Sound of Silence

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava

In 2017, I did a PhotoEssay commemorating the 10th anniversary of my cancer treatment. This year, I’ve decided to do another one, taking a look at this extraordinary April in New York…

There’s “Autumn in New York” and “April in Paris,” but no songwriter has yet written “April in New York.” This April may or may not inspire such a song, but one thing’s for sure- April, 2020 will long be remembered by everyone who’s lived through it- in NYC, and everywhere else.

Here, in one of the current centers of the pandemic, with New York City, alone, accounting for 129,788 cases and 13,240 confirmed or probable deaths from the coronavirus1 as I write this, people have been mostly hunkered down and staying inside. Last week, however, for a reason I can’t quite explain, I felt compelled to walk over to Times Square. I got there after 11pm, normally a time when activity is high in the days before the pandemic. I’m not sure what I was expecting to find. It’s not a place I have any reason or desire to go to. Most New Yorkers I know say pretty much the same thing. When I turned the corner of 8th Avenue onto 42nd Street, a corner once known as “the crossroads of the world,” I was taken by what I saw. Actually, I probably shouldn’t have been- it was pretty much what I’d been seeing on the mile walk there. The streets were deserted. Nothing was open. There were too few cars or trucks to qualify as“traffic” along ever-busy 8th Avenue that I should have been prepared for a similar sight on 42nd Street, but I wasn’t. What I saw was actually hard to believe.

It was completely deserted. The only sign of life was a police car’s revolving lights on top parked out front of the McDonald’s near 7th, which might have been open for takeout. If so, it was the only even partially open business I saw in Times Square. Or, maybe something had happened warranting a police visit. From the other side of the street, I couldn’t tell, and I wasn’t about to get curious. I turned the corner and walked up 7th Avenue to 44th Street, stopped on the corner and looked around. I was completely and utterly alone.

A song started playing softly in my brain…

“Hello darkness, my old friend.
I’ve come to talk with you, again.”*

Alone in Times Square. 7th Avenue at West 44th Street, 11:24pm, April 8, 2020. Click any picture in this Post for full size.

There was another NYPD car across the street with its lights on. I don’t know if anyone was inside it, or not. That was the only sign of “life” I could see anywhere around me. I can’t remember ever seeing it this deserted before. Ever. In my entire lifetime, I’ve never experienced a feeling quite like it.

“In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
‘Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence”*

I spent some of my formative days on “the deuce” as West 42nd Street was called back when it was as it appears in the film Taxi Driver. It was raw, seedy, nasty and dangerous, but it never closed. Ever. It was, literally, the same 24 hours a day, everyday. Of course, those days are long gone. I’ve never “gotten” what 42nd Street is supposed to be now, beyond a pseudo theme park for tourists. Ditto Times Square around the corner. No wonder New Yorkers never go there. Of course, they go to the shows on the side streets, and there are some good restaurants on those as well, too, but Times Square is one gigantic wasteland as far as I’m concerned. The “redesign” is a disaster. Personally, I can’t imagine why anyone would come to New York City and go to Times Square. Even just to see it.

On this night. No one (else) did.

Harry Belafonte alone in Times Square in The World, The Flesh and The Devil, 1959. In 1981, I would see The Clash perform six times at Bond Casino, seen here when it was Bond Clothing, on the right.

In The World, The Flesh and The Devil, Harry Belafonte plays a miner trapped in a cave-in who resurfaces only to discover mankind has been wiped out in a nuclear holocaust. He sets out to look for other survivors. Bizarrely enough, this film, with the scene above, was on the night after I was in Times Square equally alone. The difference being I KNOW there are millions of other people still here. They are all hunkered down, like I am 23 hours a day, trying to survive the coronavirus pandemic.

I haven’t been able to get the feeling out of my mind since. It’s also stuck with me for other reasons I’m still trying to fully understand.

A few days later, I walked over to Grand Central Terminal, getting there at about the same time I got to Times Square, just before 11:30pm on a weeknight. A time when it’s generally pretty busy. On the way (about a mile), I counted about 10 people- on either side of the street. I entered through the Vanderbilt Avenue corner, not sure it would be open, when I came out of the underpass into the world famous main terminal, the feeling was very much the same as it was in Times Square, with a difference.

Grand Central Terminal, April 14, 2020, 11:34pm.

Standing there, alone again, reminded me that we are all on our own in a crisis. Only those working hard to keep the essentials of life going- doctors, nurses, power station workers, truck drivers, food store employees, essential business employees, pharmacy workers, postal, delivery and transit workers are keeping us from being in a very, very bad situation, particularly for as long as this is likely to wind up being. Standing there at that moment in Grand Central, I was also struck by something else. A train station is a place about travel, about going somewhere or arriving here form somewhere else. That feeling is completely alien to me. I have nowhere else to go. I realized then that the thought of leaving has never entered my mind. But for some reason, standing there, I didn’t feel hopeless, I just felt like I always do, with cancer, Sandy or 9/11- I have to find a way through it by myself.

Cary Grant, left of center, in Grand Central Terminal, in Hitchcock’s North by Northwest, 1959, shows the space as it more normally is during the morning/evening rush.

Last week, a reader asked me if I’d ever been through something like this before. I had to give a qualified “Yes.” The 2012 Hurricane Sandy blackout- when we had none of those things I just listed that we have, thankfully, now, for between 5 and 12 days depending on where you were. No power, no mass transit. Not one thing was open because of a lack of electricity, and at night, the temperature went down to about 32. I spent days hunkered down in my bed fully dressed under every blanket I could muster as everything in my refrigerator and freezer went bad and I had to go about a mile to charge my phone. Of course, MANY other people had things much worse from Hurricane Sandy than I did. Many, many people lost everything. An apartment building 4 blocks from me, that I had been in the day before the hurricane, collapsed. It has still not been rebuilt. The risen tide from the Hudson River came to within one block of my apartment building, flooding many of the ground floor galleries in West Chelsea, while devastating lives all around the area. I was lucky. Still, I learned a lot from going through that, a 2 day blackout in the 90’s and of course, going through 9/11. Then, there was the Chelsea bombing in 2016 that was too close for comfort…

Close to the same scene just shown, minus Cary and everyone else. Grand Central Terminal, April 14, 2020, 11:36pm.

Standing there at that moment in Grand Central, I was also struck by something else. A train station is a place about travel, about going somewhere or arriving here from somewhere else. That feeling is completely alien to me. I never leave NYC. As with the other crisis I’ve lived through here, I, like everyone else, just finds a way. 

When I think about rising above it and transcendental places in NYC, the first place that comes to my mind is, in my opinion, what may well be the greatest feat of building by modern man in the world, Brooklyn Bridge. Before you say, “You’re nuts,” watch Ken Burns’ Documentary film on the making of Brooklyn Bridge, then see what you think. On April 16th, I decided to go there and see how The Bridge was faring during the pandemic.

Just after sunset on Brooklyn Bridge, facing Brooklyn, 7:53pm, April 16, 2020. If I could save one modern structure for eternity it would be Brooklyn Bridge. It is one of the supreme achievements of mankind, both Artistically and as a testament to the human spirit. In this case the spirit of those who designed it and built it while overcoming impossible odds.

I walked the entire span, beginning on the Brooklyn side, and arriving on the Manhattan side just after sunset. It was emptier than I could imagine it during daytime hours. As anyone who has had the joy of walking The Bridge knows, when you reach the center you are, magically, all of a sudden on top. The cabling has ended, the sides and even the railings seem to melt away and you feel like you are standing on top of the world. Now, imagine doing this in 1883 when The Bridge opened. At that point, you REALLY WERE on top of the world! This was decades before the advent of the skyscraper. Standing there, you were higher than anything you could see- anywhere around you. It truly must have felt like going to outer space. Of course, I paused and spent a good 30 minutes pondering everything that had been going on as I stood there, alone.

Alone in the middle of Brooklyn Bridge, with Manhattan to the left, Brooklyn to the right, and the East River straight ahead, 7:11pm, April 16, 2020.

“Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sounds of silence.”*

Thinking about things I’ve lived through in NYC, of course, 9/11 was the first major crisis I would point to. That morning, as I walked to work with one Tower on fire, the second about to be hit, a neighbor standing on the corner told me the first plane had flown down 7th Avenue- it had flown down my block! To this day, no one I know died in the horror that ensued. Both people I knew at the time got out. Still, the mysteries of the brain being what they are, somehow my sleeping mind connected that American Airlines Flight 11 that hit the North Tower of the World Trade Center with the heroic United Flight 93. In my dream (actually, a recurring nightmare), it was the passengers and crew of American Flight 11 that fought back and jumped the hijackers, causing Flight 11 to crash early- into my apartment building. 

18 years later, those thoughts were not in my mind when I decided to visit the Oculus in Santiago Calatrava’s World Trade Center Path Station Terminal at the site of the World Trade Center Towers. What is always on my mind when I visit the site of the World Trade Center is my own past. I grew up in the area. My dad had an office 2 blocks from the WTC for 45 years. I remember walking past the Towers while they were being built. Years later, the company I worked for had two Holiday Parties at Windows On The World Restaurant at the top of the South Tower, a few hundred feet from where the Oculus now is, including one for Holiday, 2000, the last Holiday season that would ever be celebrated there. Walking through the area my thoughts were on change. As in HOW MUCH change has gone on Downtown just in my lifetime

Crossing Church Street, I walked up to the front doors, half expecting to find them locked. The door opened, and there was a man standing along the wall, just inside the door. He was one of about 7 or 8 people I saw while I was inside who just stood in a spot. And stood in that spot throughout. Homeless, I guess. Most had some sort of baggage with them. There were 3 police officers walking around, who checked in on them to make sure they weren’t sleeping, among their other duties. But there was almost no one else there. I moved to the edge overlooking the 57,000 square foot floor. All the surrounding stores were closed. Off in the far distance, at the other end, the PATH train station was still in operation. Once in a while, someone walked from my end across the floor to take a PATH train uptown or to New Jersey. Mostly, I was utterly alone, once more. Again, I stood transfixed by the scene.

The 57,000 square foot main floor of Santiago Calatrava’s Oculus on April 15, 2020 at 11:56pm.

Speaking of change, I wrote about being at the Oculus in August, 2016 as it opened. That day, the floor looked like this-

Standing in the same spot I stood in taking the prior picture, on August 17, 2016 at 3pm.

Here, in this gleaming, barely 4 year old facility, was a shocking look at our present in a nutshell. The brick and mortar economy, represented by the stores that surround both levels of the Oculus, with more elsewhere in the 800,000 square foot complex, has completely paused, save for food stores, pharmacies, and home supply stores. The world has almost completely come to a stop. In fact, I think this period of time when we’ve all been home will be eventually seen as a pause between life as it was and life the way it will be. I think most of us know right now that once activity start up again, things will be different. Many of us have been, at least, subtly changed by this experience. Exactly how things will be different remains to be seen, but they will be different. Beyond the horror of all the illnesses and deaths, we will always look back at this moment “between” the old and the new as “the pause” between them.

Right now, the focus is on finding those infected, treating those ill, and keeping the virus from spreading. Eventually, we all hope, this crisis will mitigate. And then what? A lot of people (even those who haven’t gotten sick) are seriously hurting. Many have lost their jobs- temporarily, or permanently. There’s going to be a gigantic, collective, “starting over” for countless people. The ways people interact or get together and many other aspects of life not known right now will also be different. The way many businesses do business will be changed. A few/some/many small businesses, who knows how many, won’t reopen. More business will be done online.

What does this all mean?

“And the sign said:
The words of the prophets are
Written on the subway walls
And tenement halls
And whispered in the sound of silence.””

7th Avenue at West 20th Street, April 17, 2020, 8:29pm. On this very corner, Jack Kerouac’s novel On The Road ends. He wrote it 3 blocks west.

We won’t know specifically how life will be different until this is over. And no one knows when that will be right now. In the midst of all this silence, something else that can’t be heard is happening.

Change.

While we are all alone together inside, hopefully staying safe, the world is changing. The only choice we have is to adapt to it.

*- Soundtrack for this Post is “The Sound of Silence” by Paul Simon and performed by Simon & Garfunkel on the album Wednesday Morning, 3AM, 1964, and with overdubs on Sounds of Silence, released in 1966. They perform it on September 19, 1981 in Central Park below. As I write this, almost 53 million people have watched it-

This Post is dedicated to all those keeping us going, particularly in my case, my thanks to the staffs of Trader Joe’s, and Gristede’s, Chelsea, NYC, Rite-Aid, Home Depot, Con Ed, the USPS, to the truck drivers and delivery people who keep this island supplied, and to Drs. Ro & Hoffman.

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.

  1. The current stats are here. ↩

Death To Boxes!

Written & Photographed by Kenn Sava (except *)

For The Record #2.

Boxes Must Die!

In the Arts, that is.

Doing my part.

Artists are people. Like anyone else, you can’t put an Artist in a box (i.e. a so-called “style”,“school” or “movement”) UNLESS he or she puts themself in one, and that distinction is critical. No one else can, in my opinion, and that includes Art historians, gallerists, or yes, writers. Over the years I’ve spent studying and researching Art history, it seems the vast majority of the time, these labels get stuck on Artists by someone else, often someone with something to sell or someone attempting to write about the Artist. Whoever else does it, I believe they do more harm than good. It seems to me that all these terms serve to do is to keep you from looking at the Art for yourself and making up your own mind. They’re a kind of shorthand for “this is that.” They want you to think- “Oh. I already know what ‘this’ is, so I ‘know’ what that is.”

Really?

Now, press a little harder.

How many “schools” or “movements” have there really been in Art history among museum level Artists? Both imply the Artists were organized around shared beliefs. Most Artists I’ve met tend to be solitary beings who work alone (or, with their assistants, if they have them). The Renaissance is often listed as a “movement.” This brings an upside down smile to my face. While there were a number of Artists and others who turned their attention to the work of the ancients, which they “revived” in their own way, the term implies a unity that might not have been the case. Many of the leading Artists of the 15th century (particularly Leonardo da Vinci, Michelangelo and Raphael) were rivals who competed for jobs and, as far as is known, never “got together around shared beliefs.”

 

My copy of Rona Goffen’s Renaissance Rivals. Check this out if you want to get a taste to what life for these Artists may have really been like.

Raphael is reported visiting Leonardo’s studio, but there is no report that Leonardo was actually there at the time. Perhaps, the only time we may surmise that Leonardo and Michelangelo may have been in the same place at the same time was they were both commissioned to create frescoes on opposite walls of the same building. I wonder what they would think of being lumped together by posterity. It seems to me that what is known as “the Renaissance” in Art may be also be characterized as “the optical revolution,” since, as David Hockney’s Secret Knowledge points out, the fifteenth century seems to be the period when optics were introduced into Painting, “The Romantics?” While images of a period of group love pre-dating the hippies by 200 years might be a nice thought, there was no banding together among Artists, only others who see common threads in their work. In fact, the actual 1960s hippies were more of an actual “movement,” though they are not thought of as an “Art movement”…yet. “The Impressionists?” In 1874 thirty Artists showed their work in the space formerly occupied by the Photographer Nadar in a show titled The Anonymous Society of Painters, Sculptors, Engravers, etc. This show included work by Monet, Degas, Renoir, Pissarro, Cezanne, Berthe Morisot among others. It wasn’t until their third show in 1877 that the term “Impressionists,” which had been coined by a critic, after the work Impression, Sunrise, 1873, by Monet, was “accepted” by the group. They held a total of eight shows through 1886. Not one bore the word “Impressionist” in its title. It seems to me a “bad habit” had begun. Ever since, dealers, critics and historians have continually fallen all over themselves trying to put names (i.e. boxes) on whatever has been done since, in a criminally short sighted “rush to judgment” naming competition. Very rarely since, however, have the Artists involved agreed to have their work so “boxed.”

It’s one thing to have a lack of imagination yourself, but to foist it on others, including possibly, many who have not seen the Art under discussion is doing them, and the Art, a real disservice.

I’m this close to agreeing with this sentiment, in the Arts, though I’m sure there must be at least one “ism” that’s “ok,” right?

Beyond this, the practice speaks of a terrible lack of responsibility on the part of those naming and using boxes to speak about Art. Do these people who come up with these boxes ever stop to think about the ramifications of putting someone in a box? Short term? Long term? Longer term? Once in such a box, getting out is extremely hard, if not impossible. In many (if not most) cases, living Artists in such a situation would be risking their financial survival and their careers to fight back. I’ve spoken with a number of Artists who have expressed their frustration with this to me. As a result, I’ve come to feel they represent the tip of the proverbial iceberg in the high seas of the Art world. Unlike some others, this iceberg isn’t melting nearly fast enough.

When you come across one of these terms, take a quick look back into what the Artist has said about his or her work and see if he or she ever used the term themself in speaking about their Art, or if they really aligned themselves with others in the broader sense of a “school” or “movement.” My bet is that if you do this often you’ll become unsurprised to find that 90% of the time, or more, no such arrangement ever existed. IF it did, most of the time it didn’t last for more than a decade of their career. As far as “styles” go, I laugh when I see someone other than the Artist try and name an Artist’s style. For me, it’s like “naming” a wave in the ocean. “That wave seems angry. That’s the ‘expressionist’ wave. The wave that hit me in the face when I waded in was the ‘hyper-realistic’ wave…”

The common sense thing to do, in my opinion, when looking at Art is to let the Artist have some. Let him or her “speak” for themselves through their work. Look at it through your own eyes.

Being human beings, Artists, like the rest of the universe, are subject to change. Along with death and taxes, change is one of the universal laws of the universe, right? Many Artist’s styles change or evolve over time, some, like Picasso or Miles Davis, changed frequently, over the course of their careers. Then, whatever “box” the powers that be had put them in no longer applied. Now what? People coming to their work with one box in their head are now confronted with work nothing like it! Oops. Instead of coming to realize the obvious, scholars, critics and dealers struggle to put him or her in a new box.

“Blue Period,” “Rose Period,””Cubism,” “Late Period,” and on and on. In the end, Picasso, is simply Picasso- a talent so broad it burst any and all categories in almost as many mediums. Unfortunately, his example wasn’t apparently enough for the practice to cease once and for all. Here, his The Charnel House, 1944-5, is seen at MoMA. While Guernica is world-famous as a work that was Painted in 1937, during the pre-WW II Spanish Revolution, The Charnel House bookends it from the end of the War after the discovery of the horror of the death camps.

Why didn’t they just take the “easy way” out? If you insist on using boxes, Picasso, Miles, EVERY Artist, in my view, belongs in one box- the one with their name on it. Aren’t people unique? So are Artists. So, WHY do some insist on lumping them together in a box?

People tried to put Miles Davis in a box his whole life. FIFTY YEARS AGO, on March 30th, 1970, he permanently messed up their minds when he released this masterpiece. With a cast of Musicians who are now each legends in their own rite, it couldn’t have been more aptly titled. The cover art is perfect, too. *Sony picture.

It seems to me that Miles Davis eventually “answered” those trying hopelessly to pigeonhole him. Later in his career, he started labelling his albums “DIRECTIONS IN MUSIC BY MILES DAVIS.”

Word. Put it right up top, in CAPS before anyone else can call it something else. Enough said. *Crop of the previous Sony picture.

Speaking of human beings, “women Artists”, “transgendered Artists,””disabled Artists,””Asian Artists,””black Artists”- these are boxes too! People are people and Artists are Artists. Let’s leave it at that.

Whatever the short term “gain” someone got from boxing an Artist, little thought appears to be given to the fact that Art is this Artist’s career, and so, something they’re going to have to deal with for the rest of it. Some, like Chuck Close and Todd Hido have been able to break out of the boxes they were initially put in and gone on to show other sides of their creativity. How did they do it? It seems to me that both of them were and are frequent interview subjects, and this allowed them to frame the conversation around their own work to the point that they “drowned out” any other voices about it. If you look around, you’ll find they are in the vast minority. It’s very hard to do. Both achieved enough popularity to garner frequent interviews where they were free to speak about their work on their own terms. I can’t help but wonder how many others have given up, or worse, possibly even ended their careers…or their lives.

Seriously.

When Art is your life, what else matters?

Perusing the new book Genealogies of Art, which has 448 other pages that try to trace the “lineage” of Art down through the centuries. Hmmm….Yes, most Artists have influences, but who’s to say how much anyone has been influenced by someone else? What about multiple influence? It seems to me drawing direct lines between and “connecting” them (which is on the other 448 pages) is pointless and meaningless. So far, these are the only two pages I agree with. Personally? I would have left it at this.

It’s way past time for this practice to end. STOP teaching this in Art history classes! Stop using boxes, “schools,” “movements” that Artists never joined, or bogus, imagined, “styles” that mislead and pigeonhole!

It’s time to look at the Art for what it is and for what it says to you (if anything), without prejudice or boxes, labels, imaginary “schools,” or “styles.” So, when you hear a meaningless marketing term like say, “photorealism,” do what I do. Ignore it!

Save a career. Maybe even save a life. Stop the insanity- NOW!

Of course, NighthawkNYC asks that you please dispose of boxes responsibly. Put them where they belong.

*-Soundtrack for this Post is “Bitches Brew” by Miles Davis from the aforementioned album of the same name. Here, Miles and most of the Musicians on the record including legendary Saxophonist Wayne Shorter, perform it in Copenhagen, 1969, shortly before the album’s March, 1970 release-

This Post in honor of the 50th Anniversary of the release of Bitches Brew, one of the great box-busting moments in 20th century Art, is dedicated to all those Artists I’ve spoken with who suffer with being stuck in boxes, and all of those who are that I haven’t. 

For The Record is a series of pieces that are about key/core subjects & beliefs that underly everything else I’ve written here. The first part is here. 

NighthawkNYC.com has been entirely self-funded and ad-free for over 6 years, during which over 250 full length pieces have been published. If you’ve found it worthwhile, you can donate to keep it going & ad-free below. Thank you!

Written & photographed by Kenn Sava for nighthawknyc.com unless otherwise credited.
To send comments, thoughts, feedback or propositions click here.
Click the white box on the upper right for the archives or to search them.
For “short takes” and additional pictures, follow @nighthawk_nyc on Instagram.

Subscribe to be notified of new Posts below. Your information will be used for no other purpose.