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My First Date with New York City - Part 2
(Part 1 is in the April 1st column; the final Part will be in the May 1st column) |
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We continued to walk and talk for a few more hours while New York City, ever the expert and congenial host, conducted a magnificent personally guided tour. She pointed out numerous interesting historical facts about the Village. Eventually I said I was hungry and suggested we go to Indochine over on Lafayette Street - a fashionable hang out for artists back then. “Oh I just love French Indonesian,” I remember her saying. I can smile at that now because there isn’t any food that New York City doesn’t love. She is delirious over anything (especially ethnic) from a slice of street pizza to the most authentic French cuisine. As we casually strolled into the cozy, dimly lit, palm interior of Indochine the likes of Julian Schnabel, Keith Haring plus several others who were part of the chez eighties art scene glanced at me with naked envy. And who wouldn’t with New York City on your arm? Naturally she had to play it up for all it was worth (knowing this crowd) by holding her elegant nose slightly in the air and feigning cool indifference while just on the verge of cracking up. |
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We had an excellent dinner complemented with a wonderful conversation. New York City told me a great deal about herself but kept it to what suited my interests. She confines her conversation this way so as not to bore you. While she seems perpetually youthful (and in many ways is) you know that she is much older then she seems; ancient in fact. Yet she is, quite simply, timeless. So staying within the range of my interest in art she gave me the story on SoHo and how it became an artists’ community beginning in the late 60s. She said that she didn’t really expect the then au currant East Village art scene to last very long (which it didn’t). “The gallery spaces are really just too small,” she declared. |
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Andrea Belag, Mike Weiss Gallery |
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Gudrun Mertes-Frady, Reeves Contemporary Gallery |
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Then she spoke at length and with uncharacteristic seriousness about the 10th street art scene of the 40s and 50s. This included some great anecdotes about the old Cedar bar and many a Friday night session spent at ‘The Club’ hanging out with the New York School artists. She emphatically stated that it was her very favorite time when all the arts flourished here from abstract painting to jazz to the terrific plays, novels and theater produced then. She sighed and looked off into space for a while. Probably due to vanity about her age I couldn’t get her to talk about the art scene prior to the 40s. So I began to tell her about myself, where I was from and so on, but I could tell she was only displaying polite interest. I soon realized it was because New York City is really only interested in talking about herself; albeit as it might specifically interest you. Holly Golightly come again. |
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It was getting on to midnight when we finished dinner so she suggested we walk over to Bradley’s, the tiny jazz enclave near the Cedar bar, for a little brandy and to hear some ‘intimate music’ as she put it. I’d never heard of Bradley’s before and said as much. New York City couldn’t believe it, “You are new here”, she declared, |
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