Tuesday, January 29, 2013

Bed-Stuy, the G-Train, and other 'nothers

A bus shelter with information about the relationship of the police to the community they are entrusted to serve.
The view, below, from the bus shelter, is of the police surveillance tower that's been installed at this corner (Gates and Marcy Aves., Bed-Stuy) for weeks.

Half-way down the block from the police surveillance tower, in front of the Louis Armstrong  housing projects, is a memorial to a lost child. The bible on the ground is opened to Deuteronomy -- the ten commandments. Thou shalt not.
And on another corner there's an older mural dedicated to a host of fallen comrades painted on the side of a corner deli.

The shopping basket of the homeless person who is sitting at the other end of the bench in the subway station, while I was waiting for the A train.
The homeless man was sleeping with one eye open and when I turned my head I realized he had his eye on the policeman, below, who was standing on the stairs nearby.

Once on the train, everyone was treated to daring acrobatics. My camera isn't fast enough to capture the performance, but you get the idea.... 

Then uptown, a display at Brooks Brothers invokes a boring, ordered, vanilla existence. But what's behind the velvet curtain?

Finally made it home again, only to find the Fire Department in front of the house.
It makes a colorful flickering flick.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

2013 begins in its glorious, revolutionary, everydayness

Starlings roost in Von King Park, Bed-Stuy's best little oasis.

Looking up the stairs towards the office at the Park Slope Food Coop, and coming back down again through a veritable maze of offerings for massage therapy, hand made furniture, music lessons, pet-sitting services, and cat adoptions. I do love this place.

This unusual lamp was put on the street after the woman who owned it died. I ran into her son who explained that it reminded him too much of his mother and made his entire family sad, so they had to put it out.
My housemate put a large mirror in the hallway, positioned so that as soon as I open my bedroom door, I am confronted with myself, flaws 'n all. I've decided to accept self as is. And below, our shoes and our visitors' shoes.

Ran across this biker's club on Franklin Ave. in the neighborhood that skirts Bed-Stuy, Crown Heights and Prospect Heights. I tried to snap a shot into the club, but the scene was rowdy - lots of music, laughing and some yelling - so I failed to get the shot I wanted. Had to move on before some of the rowdy bikers came out and asked me what the hell I was doing.

Yes, I went into Dunkin' Donuts on Franklin Ave. near Fulton Street, late at night, "to find some comfort there," as Simon and Garfunkle would say. But I found this kind of decent mural instead. Workers of all stripes having their morning coffee, donuts presumably stashed in the lunch pail.

Further down the street (going north) was a building site and this is their portable toilet. Forbidding.

Further north on Franklin Ave, I took two shots of renovations in progress at a street level shop through the plate glass window. The scene exudes optimism in the face of the current economy, considering that these optimists must be using a small load of borrowed cash for starting up.

The neatest pile of paper recycling I've ever witnessed, waiting for the next day's pickup.