The Unstreamables Summer

Hey there, that was supposed to be a take on Endless Summer, but I'm not sure if it reads the way I'd hoped.

Summer has, indeed, reached its end. Monday is the equinox. And you know, despite the state of the world, we're still orbiting the sun.

So, yeah. I took a little hiatus. Not the “productive summer sabbatical” kind. More like… the “I meant to do something and then absolutely didn’t” kind.

I'm not just laying around: I've taken on a IT consulting project to pay the bills - but it's also interesting. I've gotten to a point where I can choose interesting projects that stretch my capabilities. Grateful for that. I've made enough bad choices to learn how to make good choices when the good luck comes around.

I've also gotten to a balancing point in that project where I can bank some stories here for when I get busy. I've got a great one coming up soon about the godfather of minimalism and one of his biggest fans.

"In C," composed by Terry Riley in 1964, is the original, Minimalist musical masterpiece. Join host Wesley Cheney as he talks to the people who listen to, perform, remix, and write about this influential work.

That's Tell Me About In C keep your eyes on your inbox in the coming weeks. What I hope to do is produce one episode a month with weekly articles on Unstreamable topics.

In this post:

An update on what the Unstreamables did (and did not do) this summer, and where we think we're going next. A look back and a look forward.

London

We started off the late spring with my round number birthday trip to London where we saw 4 acts in 5 days. Robbie Williams, Sam Fender, Popular Music (that's the name, not irony), plus notable openers Olivia Dean, Lottery Winners. That was the most bananas trip. Live music is absolutely something that cannot be replaced.

We stayed with friends near St. Albans.

It's amazing how quickly you can be in a pastoral setting from the center of London in 45 minutes. We deserve better trains in this country. Imagine going from Manhattan to Montauk in 2 hours?

We took a nice walk around and discovered a store where they sold ducklings. We almost bought our friends a duckling. A live duckling. It was too cute for words.

But it seems terribly impolite a thing to do, to just buy someone a pet. Unless you're friends with Beatrix Potter. I'm surprised, honestly, that they don't know her personally.

They live in a cottage that looks like you ordered one from Hollywood scenic department. There are holly hedges outside, with these flowers and dopey bumblebees.

The cottage does not have an address it has a name. To get there you need to know the name of the cottage. But your taxi app would die of cute-ness before you'd be able to get there.

Fighting Perfectionism

I feel a bit vulnerable writing about this, which is precisely why I'm writing about it.

Some months ago I picked up a little watercolor paint set from a shop near our home on Atlantic Avenue.

Sometime later my best friend and I each sent one another this article about unplugging (see I'm getting to the unstreamable bit now?) and making sketches instead of shooting a bunch of mobile phone photos you never look at again.

I have a lot to say about how we photograph and video our lives incessantly and edit them in the moment. It forces us to edit our own memories instead of living, instead of being present.

We're disappointed by the selfie, or the photo with our eyes closed. Recently I was spurred to remember a rather random moment by my digital photo album. I was in a completely different time and place and the algorithm of that app took surfaced a photo from some random time period. I can't even remember what I want? My memories are controlled by an app? C'mon.

More on that subject soon. Deserves its own episode. Feel free to pitch the right guest.

Back to watercolors.

This exchange escalated an O'Henrian episode where we each sent each other paint sets. And I've just run with it. I've discovered wet on wet. And glazing, and tiny brushes... And Payne's gray! Payne's gray is like a magic trick. It's like putting toasted cheesy garlic breadcrumbs on a dish. The right amount is magic.

This watercolor practice - has, as my friend termed it, unlocked something(s) in me. I find myself thinking about light and shadow and line and value in a way I never did before.

When painting, I delight in the frustration of the paint going the 'wrong' way. Delighting in the imperfections and uncontrollability. I spent so much time (and money) on therapy to be told things like "try something you're not good at" and "it's okay to not be perfect" and now I see.

I should have just bought some paints. That's my experience. We should all be so lucky.

I have wasted so much time in my life procrastinating - waiting for the perfect time to start. I guess it's better to start at the wrong time than to never start at all.

Back in the New York Groove

Back in New York City, I've been making the commute to Jersey City on the PATH train, it's pretty sedate compared to the subway into Midtown. But the Newport station is under a remodel and jeez it looks like something out of the upside down in Stranger Things. There's stalagmites of alien mold growing in there.

BUT, there are some interesting and beautiful mosaics in the system and those have been a delight. Wait, JT what are you talking about?

What kind of tangent is he on, you're asking?

How to tie this together to watercolor? Oh yes, read on.

I've decided this year to forgo any streaming and subscription services and instead contribute to public and cultural programs.

So instead I've availed myself of NYC's ID program. There are many museums and cultural institutions that are included with the program.

Two exhibitions at the Museum of Modern Art (MoMA) really caught my eye and soul. The first was about Jack Whitten and how he experimented with material, mosaic, tools, rakes, brushes, sculpture and other media throughout his career. I'm afraid you've missed the boat on that one but a lot of it is still online. Some of his works are on view as well. Check the website. YMMV. Here's the excellent MoMA Series HOW TO SEE on Whitten. See, I'm getting there? I was primed to notice them; normally they're very quotidian.

The other exhibit, which I highly recommend before it goes away Hilma af Klint What Stands Behind the Flowers. You may know Hilma as one of the first abstract painters but you may not know her for her watercolor work.

Breaking with traditional botanical art, af Klint juxtaposed her exquisitely rendered blossoms with precisely drawn diagrams: a blooming sunflower is echoed by nested circles; a marsh marigold is accompanied by mirrored spirals; a cluster of budding branches is set against checkerboards of dots and strokes. With this profusion of forms—an expansion of the abstract language for which she is best known—af Klint visualizes “what stands behind the flowers,” demonstrating her belief that careful observation of her surroundings reveals ineffable aspects of the human condition.

It turns out she studied Theosophy, and charted the different flowers and creatures along with their values in that school of thought.

I don't subscribe to the Theosophical doctrine, but it was fascinating to see her flow control and color techniques emerge over this collection. Botanical and scientific illustration was also a way for artists (particularly women) to make a living in that time period and I found that interesting.

By the way I can't see the letters af in the 21st Century without thinking "AF" Hilma af Klint. She sure was. Hilma AF.

Diabolical Drives

Some weekends we scampered off to the Hudson Valley, in our fine four fender'd friend. Visiting ART OMI sculpture park in Ghent was a highlight. It's free, which is a bargain compared to Storm King (also worth a look). Bring bug spray.

One Saturday after lunch we somehow found ourselves driving a perilous, winding mountain route from Saugerties to Hunter. The Platte Clove Mountain Road is only open to cars and bikes and only in summer weather. There are plenty of myths surrounding it. Tales containing nefarious deeds as well as tragic stories. None for us, luckily.

The quiet enveloped us as the road became narrower and narrower. Hikers parked along one side. A hippie couple descended a nearly vertical path, with the help of a rope, into the hollow below. They saluted us with a dreamy wave as they sunk beneath our eye-line hot on the trail of the ghost of Thomas Cole

Even in the afternoon daylight, and even for our Mini Cooper, it seemed far too dark and the roadway far too narrow for driving at a clip. Instead, we crept along with the windows open, listening for any car that might come around the unguarded curve at breakneck speed.

Despite my choice language behind the wheel, I find it best to be a predictable and as courteous a driver as possible in even the best of conditions.

The fastest way becomes the slowest way. Thanks  maps.

While there in the HV, we saw the Jeff Buckley documentary, It's Never Over. It played in Saugerties, at the Orpheum theater, fittingly. If ever there was an Orpheus Buckley was one. Amy Berg has done something very very very special and epic here. I was never satisfied with what I read of Buckley in Rolling Stone and the prevailing urban legends. This definitely tells something more human and soulful.

In the summer and fall, you can ride the ski-lift to the top of Hunter mountain. Buy your tickets online and you can save a little money. I learnt the hard way. Tuition in the school of life. Also hold onto your phone. I did not learn the hard way, but I saw the evidence of some who had.

On the way home, I elected to drive via Kaaterskill Falls and the ominous owl of Twilight Park (the subject of my supernatural screenplay... one day) .

One weekend, we did a loop through Montauk, the North Fork and Back to Brooklyn. Here is some audio from near the cliffs.

Montauk, Surf flowing through the rocks

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Just me and the husband and a very expectant looking deer. It was trying to be cool but I know it wanted a handout. Don't feed the animals. You're not doing them any favors.

Speaking of wildlife... the town of Montauk is not like how I remember it. Except it is. It's chic and patinated at the same time. There's a practiced kind of roughness. Some of the cars are nice - like mortgage sized loan nice. And then you have stuff like this. It's a tone poem in the form of a restaurant. A neon martini glass sporting a broken straw (Maybe it's a Margarita?) with a sign reading:

PIANO PLAYER WANTED
MUST HAVE
KNOWLEDGE OF
OPENING CLAMS

It's very nearly a haiku.

We didn't get to see the lighthouse from the inside. Norah Jones was playing a benefit concert that night. I guess she needed time to tune the piano and set up chairs.

We drove, instead, to Greenport via the ferries. The ferries are nine or ten dollars per car plus a couple of dollars per person. The sign was algebraic and made us argue. I was right in the end. Which is ill comfort when you're married to an accountant.

We were first in line but a nice guy in a Corvette explained it reassuringly. I found myself admiring his Batmobile. It can only be described as a Batmobile. In his mind he was returning to stately Wayne manor. In that moment I understood the point of Corvettes.

Once we rolled aboard and paid, the water was very close to the car. The ferries are basically jumped up canoes for cars with a chain link fence to remind you to not drive off. I left the sunroof open and my seatbelt off just in case. Siri was perplexed at our amphibious behavior.

Greenport

I wish we had stopped in Shelter Island. There is some interesting history there. But you can't do everything in one day. On to Greenport. I found many subjects to paint there.

We ate at a nice Greek restaurant and toured a replica of a Swedish Ship. I did not ask if it came packed flat in a box. You know I was dying inside. I was so taken with it I took no pictures.

Smashing Atoms for Science

We also went to an open house at Brookhaven National Labs. They have 4 of these per summer. You can go see actual science being done. While it's still being done.

I asked one scientist "What's the practical application (speaking about the particle accelerator)?"

Truthfully, I wanted to know, but I also wanted to engage him and let him know I was appreciative. He gleefully told me. "There is none, there is no velcro or lasers or sonar coming out of this". He teaches physics now.

They do other science at Brookhaven that is quite practical and not theoretical

...but smashing particles together helps them understand how the universe works - how it was formed. It is foundational. All the practical stuff is built on top of it.

The scientist turned professor then admitted that they are constantly pushing the boundaries of computation and instrumentation and logistics and even refrigeration as they need to supercool all this stuff.

My favorite part of the day was an energetic Scottish veteran of HM Royal Nuclear Navy showing us around the gargantuan Van De Graff generators they use to create the gold ions that they smash together at nearly the speed of light.

He kept telling us how he was not a physicist. I gathered that he knew more about about quantum physics, mechanical engineering, practical Information Technology and probably a lot of other topics.

Of course he was hilarious to boot. He'd make a great character in an Andy Weir novel.

Wandering home

I turned off the maps app for the way home. I have an old road atlas in the car. And I kinda know where I live in relation to the water. What could go wrong? I ended up taking the Jackie Robinson Parkway home - it was more beautiful than I thought it could be. In this case, parkway is not a euphemism. I have relatives buried along the road, there in Calvary Cemetery . People who came from Ireland 150 years ago. I used the word pastoral before, and I'll use it again here. It was a relaxing way to end the weekend. Much better than the Long Island Expressway.

I've heard that they moved some graves around to make room for the road. I've meant to read Caro's The Power Broker for years, but I'm afraid it will just piss me off. Tell me in the comments if you beg to differ.

The Brothers Gallagher & Pulp

The final acts of the summer. If I never see another arena show in my life that will be fine. And I mean that to say: Oasis Live in 25 will be very hard to top. They were in amazing form. Plus I'm turning into a crabby old lady.

And finally last week we also went to see Pulp at the very very Wes Anderson-esque Forest Hills Stadium. Magical.

The Unstreamables Takeaway:

For a summer hiatus of doing nothing, we did a lot. I needed the rest and thanks for hanging in there. As always, if you have interview ideas or want to bring your favorite gems on the show, get in touch hello@theunstreambles.com - jt