Tag Archives: salvador dali

A Travel Essay Series: Summer in the City

August 15, 2008

(India’s Independence Day)

Dear Readers,
It’s been a long time. I shouldna left you. At least, not without a proper “peace see ya later.” I left to go have myself the summer of lifetime. And now I’m back. Will you have me?

//www.puppiesandflowers.com/blogimages/jan2008/waterfallProject.jpg” cannot be displayed, because it contains errors.

I’m not your typical blogger. I hate sitting in chairs. And computer light makes my eyes go all Jabberwockey. Saw an illustrative art piece on this very issue today. Crossed one of Steel City’s beautiful bridges to the Andy Warhol Museum. Sotheby’s is selling Andy Warhol prints for 12 milli and up. And this Pittsburgh based Museum has more Warhol than anywhere. Employees like oompa loompas cataloging thousands of items from Warhol’s 600 time capsule boxes. A quote on the wall reads: “Buying is more American than thinking. And I’m about as American as you can get.” Warhol. The gateway man for Basquiat, who remains one of the only artists of color to fill Sotheby’s venerable halls come American Modern Art auction time.

In the front lobby of the Warhol museum is a stunning office chair installation. An expensive, porous, black office chair spins. It is enclosed in a clear cubicle. The spins are slowly at first, like an office worker taking a twirl for kicks when no ones looking. Then pendelums its momentum to frantically fast. The feeling is of a society sitting instead of standing. Sitting itself out of its mind.

When I say I’m not your typical blogger, I mean I don’t love sitting in front of a computer.  In one Tracy Ullman State of the Union skit, “Ariana Huffington” sleeps gripping her laptop, loving it like lovers do. That’s not me. I eye my laptop from afar, with tolerance. And open it with efficiency. Dusting it, adjusting it. Occasionally enamored respect. At best.

So I stood up a lot this summer. Moved my legs, filled my ears. And after a lilting summer, I am back to writing. To you.

The next two weeks I am stretching the summer finale, taffy, like a brown-skinned Olympic runner stretches for the finish line. In betwixt California coastline and my mom’s home cooking, I’ll be posting “A Travel Essay Series: Summer in the City.”

” A Travel Essay Series: Summer in the City” highlights include:

Music Reviews: Kanye West’s Glow in the Dark Tour, Bruce Springsteen, Freddie McGregor, Cold War Kids, King Kahn, Beth Orton, Lila Downs, Erykah, Brooklyn Hip Hop Festival.

Sports Reviews: Liberty, Mets, Olympics and me and my Big Blue Bike

Water Reviews: Riis, Coney, Waterfalls, random upstate lake, rain, and the fire hydrant outside my Flatbush apartment

Art Reviews: MOMA and Salvador Dali, Samuel Beckett at BAM, SF MOMA and Frida (I admit, I did leave Gotham a couple times), the New Museum and Islam, the Metropolitan Museum of Art and Super Heroes

Virgin Reviews: Summer is a good time to try new things. Even if they are only new to you. Like the Nuyorican Poets Cafe. Like flings. Like writing for mad money. Like spitting a poem off the stage at Prospect Park’s Bandshell.

Food Reviews: Ice cream, Fort Greene, Trader Joes. And fruit. Oh, fruit tastes good in the summer. Even better than my mango chicken. Which really says a lot.

Rapping Up:

I’m blessed to be a traveler, the world, many times over. Next best thing to reading a good book. I encourage anyone within ear shot to travel wherever they are. To adventure through life with breath as your Golden Ticket. This “Travel Essay Series” is my homage to trekking uncharted through my immediate surroundings. Gotham. New York City and all that jazz. Stay tuned.



Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

on the new yorker and dali, thanks.

dear readers,

yesterday was the first day of class, a summer session. high school students getting a taste of the college life. after i concluded, they walked out, and one by one, said thanks. i kinda felt like a bus driver, and i was moved. saying thanks only takes a heartbeat of a moment, but it can last.

in this post i’d like to say thanks. not like to the gods without whom none of this would be possible, to my partner who stuck by me, mom and dad this ones for you, everyone over at sony–not like that. not yet. i just want to say thanks. this one goes out to a couple, recent, top of the line muses.

thanks to the new yorker, for running the most attention seeking magazine cover of my entire lifetime.


i feel a few different ways about this debacle. but first i want to note, this is a visual work that makes me feel.

that’s the umbrella point. here’s the nitty gritty:

on one hand, i want no more than to sex pistol dive through the glass facade of the new yorker office, let’s get physical, media accountability campaign meet the conde nast building, 4 times square, manhattan, ny. (attention homeland security, i am just joking, gosh, take everything so seriously why don’t you?!). at least one person needs to get their ass beat for this cover. everyone’s so quick to be hardcore when their almost untouchable. but word on the street is, the folks behind this cover and this world wide war are folks who’ve never once found the confidence to give a pound or daps to their fellow human being. this cover fans the flames of genocide. the world at war is too gone for this, the old too childlike from soul collapsing defeat, adults too embattled, the youth too tired from bullet dodging to have to crawl away from this “travesty of a mockery of a sham”. (ward churchill)

on the other hand, but for the genocidal context of this cover, i actually kinda dig the drawing.

the white house image they depicted is almost exactly what most revolutionary heads would hope for. asaata shakur and a brown man capable of embracing the muslim diaspora in the oval office? a couple who loves each other in private, not just for the cameras? war is on the horizon, and our leaders are so prepared, they can smile in the midst of impending battle? sigh. if only.

thanks also to salvador dali for throwing the seeds of his imagination to generations. dali painted solemn men balancing french loaves while riding bicycles, a whole crop of black suited, bowler hatted men growing out of brown rolling hills like corn. he had a way of illuminating, painting these just right sunlit glows into the tranced out edges of his slate gray melancholy. dali drew for movies, from disney to hitchcock to his own gory shorts. the disney piece has a ballet dancer, she has no face, just a moon-like orb for a head, and she is aglow and dainty, in all white against a stark brown landscape. the dancer is dancing, and suddenly her head rolls off, she begins rolling it across the tops of her arms, she dances with the head off her shoulders, an impossible, relaxing twist. and those are just 3 examples of dali’s mind. an innovative dali exhibit, using cinematography and stills, runs till september at the new york museum of modern art.


thank you for reading. stay tuned for more of “all the news that’s fit to flip,” from your favorite political poet, naXal.


N/roopa singh

Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,