Bright Light City

...Gonna Set My Soul - Gonna Set My Soul on Fire...

Center City Wandering

Less than two weeks ago, the heat index hit 122, so today with the air in the mid-80s it seemed a lovely afternoon for a walk. Meandering our way from Rittenhouse Square towards the Kimmel Center for the Arts, we were among the countless others taking advantage of the cool breeze and partly cloudy skies. Making our way along Pine Street, we couldn't help but notice all the brownstone apartments serving as quiet glimpses into Philadelphia's colonial history. It can be difficult to move through a district this historic without becoming romantic about its past. In a city that pride's itself as being the "first" at, well, everything the endless markers of historic achievement tend to blend into the scenery, but today one jumped out. The Civil War Museum and Library sits conservatively on Pine Street, so much so that if not for the metal sign by the street we would have missed it. Spotting the sign forced us to look around in an effort to figure out its location. In doing so, we were forced to consider our own location. On this picturesque August afternoon, we were free to wander our way through the city in search of iced coffee all because of the efforts of those who had stood here before us. We were quite literally in the middle of the Civil War Discovery Trail, adding an interesting twist to a surprisingly thought provoking walk.

Schuylkill Banks

The Schuylkill River is a lovely walk year round. This time of year, I find early morning and early evening to be the best, as the middle of the day the sun pounds down a little too hot on the paved path for my liking. From the Rittenhouse section of Center City, head to the intersection of Locust St. and 25th St. where you will find a set of railroad tracks to cross and an entry point to the Schuylkill Banks River Walk The paved path meanders along the Schuylkill River with patches of lawn and benches for watching both the river and people run by. The river walk paved path is a little over a mile and then connects to Kelly Drive as part of the Schuylkill River Trail. You will find people fishing, jogging with strollers or out for a morning coffee with friends. Whatever you find, it will likely be within this peaceful respite tucked neatly into the center of the city. While a number of major thoroughfares, such as Walnut Street and JFK Boulevard run right above the walk, the city somehow sounds miles away.

Philly Art Walk

With the sun shining, it turned out to be the perfect morning for a group art excursion through Center City. From Pine Street, we headed along Broad Street, through city hall to PAFA's Morris Contemporary Art Gallery for Hiro Sakaguchi's "No Particular Place to Go". We made our way back through city hall and over to Rittenhouse Square to check out what was on view at the Philadelphia Art Alliance which included Robert Baines, Matthew Alden Price and Chad Curtis. Along the way, we stopped at the Fleisher/Ollman Gallery for their summer show "Introspective/Retrospective". We ended our day with a walk up to the UPenn campus to check out the Arthur Ross Gallery who was hosting the Lauren Greenfield show "Girl Culture." In the end, Sakaguchi's solo exhibition seemed to stick with me the most. You can read my review of it below.

PHILADELPHIA

HIRO SAKAGUCHI

MORRIS GALLERY (PAFA)

The loose use of childlike colors and storybook graphics in the work adorning the entryway to PAFA’s Morris Gallery enthusiastically invites viewers into Hiro Sakaguchi’s solo show “No Particular Place to Go.” Once inside, the viewer discovers that below the surface of these innocent images hides the artist’s search for perfection. Closer examination reveals that the gestural marks on each of his works contrast the painfully controlled pencil lines which form the foundation of each art piece – from prints to oil paintings to drawings directly on the wall. This quiet implication of the artist’s sophisticated intentions is made even more clear by the eraser marks left on many of the pieces, noting the lines that did not make the final cut. They appear to be left on purpose as a simple imprint of the memory of the journey the artist took to get to each piece as we see them today.

The gallery is filled with works that span the last five years. From small sketches to sloppy-style prints to large oil paintings, the thread that ties them together is the increasingly obvious truth that everything the artist is doing is deliberate. Sakaguchi’s work seems to eradicate the fine line between fantasy and reality. We see the small pencil drawing for “A Boat with Hibachi Engine” from 2009 and turn to see it realized in full scale as a sculpture on the floor behind us. So convincing is the sculpture that, for just a moment, one wonders if it might just work when the charcoal is lit.

In the enormous oil painting entitled “Great Wall” (2011) the manmade wonder divides the canvas diagonally and is instantly recognizable. There are vibrant colors and active lines all around it. Small explosions are shooting out ammunition, which look like jet planes. Each blast is coming from a variety of toy-like tanks that litter the lower right side of the canvas. The Wall appears to be protecting an isolated, rural (rather American-looking) yard complete with log cabin, picnic table, a bike leaning against a pink tree and a clothesline running behind the house. In-between those tanks are men dressed in knight’s armor, charging forward with swords drawn. They are not entirely out of place, as a large castle rises up out of the middle of the wall.

The longer you look at each piece, the more complex imagery you find. Sakaguchi’s repetitive themes of boats, planes and tanks all appear playful against his depiction of nature’s profound size and strength. In an image that references Niagara Falls, complete with rainbow, an enormous bear is “fishing” for planes. These aircrafts relate to the bear’s proportions and placement as though they were salmon moving upstream. The age-old theme of man versus nature is retold in Sakaguchi’s work from the point of view of man’s futile efforts to conquer nature, whether by land, sea or air.

One might assume that Sakaguchi’s hybrid dreamscapes are rooted in his own hybrid world. A Japanese native, he came to Philadelphia to earn his BFA from UArts in 1993 and then his MFA from PAFA in 1996. While this exhibition is part of the gallery’s “Emerging Artists Series,” don’t let the misnomer lead you astray. Sakaguchi has consistently had solo shows, exhibiting internationally for more than a decade. He also has work in numerous collections, including the Philadelphia Museum of Art. On view until August 28^th, this solo show allows the viewer to gain a snapshot of the work of a prolific artist caught between as many worlds as he, himself, can possibly imagine.

Baltimore's Inner Harbor

With a bright sky and warm air, we set out along Baltimore's Inner Harbor. We meandered our way along the docks and cut across South Caroline Street to Lancaster Street, so we could walk along the small inlet up to Katyn Circle. The night before, every inch of this area had been packed with boisterous crowds looking for Saturday night entertainment. On this Sunday afternoon, it was far more quiet. In this frenzied urban playground, saturated with restaurants, clubs, museums and attractions; we had found a peaceful moment where the only sounds came from the water lapping up against the moored boats and the city rested before it began another week.

Mystic River

The Mystic River cuts through the southeast corner of Connecticut. Barely three and a half miles long, this estuary divides the historic village of Mystic and its banks even serve as home to a Maritime Museum. I anticipated imagery that referenced this small fishing village's history. I even expected the rolling hills and enormous weeping willows we were walking along. What I did not expect was the ornate Egyptian, Greek and Gothic Architecture. From a distance it appeared to be a quiet park sitting along the river bank. Though below the stoic arch at the entrance, it became clear that Elm Grove was not a park, but a cemetery. Rather than focusing on the finality of death, this Victorian style cemetery was designed more than 155 years ago around the idea of eternal rest. The concept was based on the romantic idea of a garden burial ground where the community would gather to spend Sunday afternoons. I don't know what sort of turn out Elm Grove got a hundred years ago, but on this Friday night there were a few visitors - folks walking dogs and the occasional jogger. I suppose it is a credit to the planners who more than a century ago were looking to find a meeting place for both life and death. I, however, was more focused on what a difference such a short distance could make in the identity of a place.

Buds & Mud

A few days above freezing and the 60+ inches of snow that had crippled this area deflated. A few more and now the only remnants are the dirty lumps of snow that dot the landscape. The warm air, budding trees and gleaming mud are hinting at the oncoming change in seasons. In the last month, these sidewalks were impassable with semi-frozen slush and vicious winds thwarted even the best attempts for an afternoon walk. Today, with clear paths and inviting weather, the area seems to be beginning to stir from its long winter's nap. What a difference a day (or a few days) really makes.

Icy Puddles

I was tragically mislead. In the midst of our frigid winter, I was lured by the tease of 40 degree temperatures and decided to follow the sun on a short walk. The walk became shorter as the wind became stronger and each icy puddle became deeper. The snow that blanketed the ground still ran into rigid frozen drifts that lined the streets. The icy slush, too broad to wade around, forced me into the street which was far too narrow from the snow. Tired of fighting the violent wind, I turned back. Today, the sun was much more enjoyable from inside than from outside.

Dubai Creek

Dubai at night is much like any other city; full of people rushing from one part of their day to the next. Cabs are honking, bus brakes are screeching and restaurants are beginning to buzz with evening chatter. Aside from the sounds of call to prayer and its brief pause, I could have been rushing through New York on a busy Friday night. The buildings go up and out for as far as the eye can see, which is only amplified by every inch of their edges being covered in millions of lights. There is an indescribable energy to a place that, in less than a generation, has gone from a nomadic desert culture to what has been described as "Las Vegas on steroids". As we moved through the crowded side streets, around cars and through groups of boisterous people out for a good time, we meandered our way through the souks (or market places). We haggled for silly souvenirs until we came upon the edge of the water. The Dubai Creek is a salt water inlet and arguably one of the most historic places you can visit in the center of this emirate. Here, for just a moment, a visitor can actually get a glimpse of this trading port which has been referenced as far back as the ancient Greeks. Much like everything else in Dubai, it has now been super-sized in order to increase trade. For roughly a dollar, you can climb into one of the many abras (or water taxis) and criss-cross along the water. Here at night, somewhere in the middle of the creek, it becomes very quiet. The sound of the people and the cabs and the buses begin to fade as you finally get a slightly less obstructed view of this historic treasure.

Sharjah Art Museum

I have just traveled from an area crippled by winter's snowy grip to a land of endless sun. An opportunity to show my work alongside other international artists at the 29th Annual Emirates Fine Art Society Juried Exhibit has brought me to the other side of the globe. The path between the Sharjah Art Museum and our hotel has now become mindless. The first time I walked it, the city streets seemed foreign and overwhelming, I wondered how many times I would get turned around. Now it is just the path we take to and from setting up at the museum. How can something so foreign quickly become so familiar? Sharjah is considered a cultural center in the United Arab Emirates. The buildings have an old world quality, but few are much older than I am, so there is a bit of a gray area between where the culture truly is and where the image of the culture begins. There are flashes of this quasi-Epcot Center-esque feeling when you find out many of these buildings are a facade. So what is true? The fact that the warmth of the sun is only out-shined by the warmth of the people is true. The images I carried with me here of the middle east are not true of this country. It is true that under this constitutional monarchy all people are considered equals, affording women the rights I simply assumed they were denied. Though above all else, the sacredness of hospitality seems to be the greatest truth here, within and between these buildings which I now travel through.

Tabors Corners

Visiting family for Thanksgiving break, we found ourselves in rural Wayland, NY. While the air was frigid, the sun was bright. We made our way down Tabors Corners Road and walked to the point where it intersects with Wetmore Road, passing Dutch Hollow Road along the way. Just a year ago, we had walked this road and marveled at the countless beaver dams plaguing both sides. Today, there was barely evidence that the labor-intensive dams had ever existed. Our noses grew cold as the sky spit snow, but still we looked for some activity. We came across the occasional deer hoof print in the mud, but not a beaver insight. It was an interesting lesson in eco-systems to have seen an animal community move in, impact the area to the point of flooding and move on, without a trace. The below image of the dam is from last year's walk.

Windsor Center

This picturesque fall morning made taking a walk inevitable. We began our walk with the intention of wandering the Windsor Center River Trail. We quickly got off track and wandered through the Palisado Ave overpass and towards the historic train bridge, picking up the town sidewalk. We wandered up Pleasant Street and back around Poquonock Ave through the center of town and looping back to where our walk originated at the trail head. It was a quiet morning and leant itself well to letting the path unfold before us. There is something to be said about the "best laid plans...". We had a chance to see a busy town center dormant and still have our original trail left to walk another day.

East Windsor Errands

Running errands on this Saturday morning seemed more like early September, than the second week in October. With the sun shining, the temperature danced around 60 degrees with fall barely in sight. Crossing Bridge Street, over the Connecticut River, you might see some graffiti or some folks fishing. You will always see cars lined up waiting at the lights at both ends. Standing in the center of the bridge, looking towards Windsor Locks, you will see the abandoned Montgomery complex. If you turn your sites towards East Windsor, you will see the blocked out windows of the local bar. Though, standing in the middle, straddling the East Windsor-Windsor Locks town line, you can see for miles down the historic Connecticut River. On a day this warm, standing above the lazy river, below the floating clouds, I can't help but wonder about all the people who have followed this river for hundreds of years to new destinations.

Big E!!

Tonight's walk lead us through all six New England States, or at least the buildings that represent them. The start of fall in New England is marked by the Big E, the largest fair in the northeast. Where else can you learn about the history of New England, stand in awe of 600 lbs of sculpted butter and enjoy a bacon cheeseburger nestled between two glazed donuts? Since it was a warm and sunny afternoon, we thought we'd head up to West Springfield hoping that midweek might mean less crowds. We were wrong and wandered around the Eastern States Exposition with more than 84,000 of our neighbors, breaking records for that day's attendance (the following day saw 1/5 of that traffic). Our path was determined by our own desire to avoid the daily parade, which we walked right into. Everywhere we went, there it was; floats, marching bands and all. More than 11,000 steps later, we had covered the Avenue of the States, New England Avenue and Commonwealth Avenue, while managing to out-maneuver the parade. Deterred by the path of the parade and the dense crowds, we had an interesting evening walking a path determined by what we were trying to avoid, rather than the destinations we had intended to arrive at. We were able to approach a familiar path from a new perspective, which lead to some unexpected discoveries.

Nantucket, MA

A surprise scavenger hunt lead us to the little island of Nantucket, off the coast of Massachusetts. We were greeted by cobblestone streets and old brick sidewalks. Around every corner, this sea village alluded to its foothold in early American history. Arriving after dark, we rambled through the uneven streets towards the inn where we were staying. The island was blanketed in darkness which appeared never ending as it blended into the sea. The next morning, we began our stroll in the heart of the village and made our way toward the pier. On this perfect morning walk, the sun danced endlessly across the surface of the Atlantic Ocean. The island is accessible by plane or boat and discourages visitors from bringing cars over. As a visitor you get to experience a small island comprised of a walking culture. While only an hour by high-speed ferry, it feels a million miles away from the busy rush of mainland life. The quiet streets illustrate this picturesque community; from the local farmer's market to the whaling museum. Off season, there is a sense of peace and seclusion walking through the streets. This sense is sort of similar to the one I felt in Denali; miles away from the hustle and bustle, but not necessarily alone. Much like Denali, my walk is being viewed by those "tuned in". Here, whether walking up Main Street or out to Great Point, there are live webcams broadcasting your experience in this place. This leaves me wondering what the experience of me experiencing this place is like to those watching...

Windsor Locks Canal State Park

While we were greeted by a gray sky, the air was warm on this lazy September Sunday; making it the perfect day to wander along the Windsor Locks Canal State Park. This hidden gem runs 4.5 miles along the Connecticut River between the center of Windsor Locks and Suffield, Connecticut. This was the historic towpath along the canal that shipped freight nearly 200 years ago. Today it has been repurposed into a recreational trail filled with families fishing, couples biking and the ambitious jogging. To enter the path from the Windsor Locks side, you must brave the small driveway along the front of the old abandoned factory. This quickly opens up to a spacious parking area and the gates to the path. In the spring, the path is wide-open, but by this time in the fall, the brush has flourished and begins to narrow the path. There was an interesting dichotomy to walking along this path on this afternoon. Immediately to our left was the stagnant canal, sitting quietly; while to our right rolled the waters of the flowing Connecticut River. The canal had been cut off from its powerful source to now lay dormant, no longer serving its industrial purposes. We walked about halfway up the flat trail to the aqueducts before heading back to where we entered. This path provided an opportunity to explore nature and walk along a little piece of New England's industrial history.

Beavertail State Park

On Friday, the New England Coastline braced for "Hurricane" Earl, but what we experienced was (at best) "Tropical Storm" Earl. We received some much needed rain and in return had a break in the sweltering heat. By Saturday, the weather made for a beautiful day for a drive and the remnants of that tropical storm made for a perfect day to check out the ocean. If you find yourself in the South County area of Rhode Island, follow the bridge to Jamestown and drive to the end of this tiny island where you will find Beavertail State Park. It's open year round and at the tip of its 153 acres, you can visit the 3rd oldest lighthouse in the country. Parking near the entrance will give you a stunning 1.5 mile loop along the jagged coast which runs right by the historic lighthouse (and its museum). There are secluded little nooks, rocks to scale if you are feeling adventurous and plenty of lawn to set up your grill or kite or frisbee or hammock. This is a gentle walk, during which you are surrounded by a powerful sense of nature - from the crashing waves to the gusts of wind. On this afternoon, with the sun shinning off the deep blue sea, all we could taste was salt from the spray of the waves. With thunderous roars, every inch of the rocks were slammed by wave after crashing wave. The waves rolled and crashed with such fury that their foam became net-like forms, clinging to the rocks and shooting bubbles into the air. The winds whipped through the park, along the water front, strong enough to nearly knock us down. Behind that shining sun and beautiful blue sea, nature made clear her ferocious strength.

The Mudflats

At home, my backyard is, well, a paved parking lot that borders the local phone company headquarters. If you walk a few miles through my neighborhood you will actually find yourself in the middle of an international airport. Today I took a walk through a slightly different backyard. Our walk was cut short by flooding, though as you can see, not all of us were detoured by the water. A week ago, I left an area that was experiencing record levels of heat and drought. Now, I find myself half a world away in an area that is in the middle of a record-breaking streak of continuous days of rain. It is 70 degrees, sunny and everything is a lush green from all the rain. This weather is everything that summer was not on the east coast. Here, the backyard leads to a trail down to the mudflats. The flooding from the Knik Arm below the Chugach Range lends some explanation as to how this old WWII boat might have made it this far inland. Once again, I am on a walk that is impacted by water - what a fascinating barrier...