A few weeks ago I reposted pics from last year of the falcon that visits our office every summer. Well, guess who just showed up? She was nice enough to alight on the west side of the building this time, which made for more dramatic images.
We’re 50 floors up. Too high for sparrows and pigeons. Okay for falcons and helicopters. Look at her pose. What a diva. She knows she’s being photographed.
We know when she’s outside because we hear her screeching. She calls her chick and teaches her how to dive off the building and attack some poor, unsuspecting bird or rodent. Here, she’s scoping the area for lunch.
The following morning, a rare treat. The baby makes an appearance. This isn’t a great shot but she was only there for a few fleeting moments. Mom will perch outside our window for 15 or 20 minutes at a time. People line up to take her picture.
This is an interesting piece. It’s a collaboration between Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat. Pretty obvious who did what. It’s from Tommy Hilfiger’s collection and was sold in London in June. Call me tacky but I would totally hang this up.
Andy Warhol and Jean-Michel Basquiat
Sold for £2,408,750
This is Ladder by Crazy Marina Abramovic. I saw it in a group gallery exhibit.
Last year she published her memoirs. It’s a hysterical example of tortured artisté navel-gazing and pretentiousness. As as child, instead of playing with toys, she “…prefered to play with the shadows of passing cars on the wall.” She made that up to sound cool, right? She didn’t actually do that, did she?
She was born into a wealthy Yugoslavian family and enjoyed maids, theater tickets, paintings, a grand piano. A world of privilege. All while the rest of the country scraped by in post-war poverty. Yet, she writes of the “…tyranny of support.” She complains about “…changing planes so often, museum and gallery openings, endless receptions…” What a loon. She should try the Port Authority bus depot at 6:20 a.m. My finest art.
She’s quite the gas bag but I *do* like her work. I saw her retrospective at MoMA in 2010 and loved it. Perhaps her odious comments are part of an elaborate performance piece. I hope so.
I ran my finger along the knife edge. They were dulled. Of course they were! What were you thinking?
Morning meta moment. Walking down 42nd St. on my way to work I looked up and saw a billboard for an HBO series about 42nd St. Different era. Same pavement.