A last minute impulsive trip up to NYC this weekend in the sweltering heat. The bus ride up, uneventful. Diving deeper and deeper into Karl Ove's Scandavian adolescence. New York at night, the bustle of the West 30's as midnight approached.
Then off on Sunday morning, the M to Essex. The market closed. So a bagel, a walk to the water, the fringes of Chinatown and FDR drive. Then doubling back on the F to West 4 where I watched basketball and read on a park bench before wandering up Bleecker to the new Whitney.
A stunning building at the end of the High Line, shiplike. Reminding me vaguely of Frank Ghery's ship's prow in Toledo.
And oh the inside. The views. A great show of Portraits - again showing the depth of the collection. Such a wonderful mix - from Cindy Sherman to a slowly burning wax mold of Julian Schnabel. From Hopper to Arbus and back again. A swirl.
Hamburgers at Corner Bistro and a walk along the rest of the High Line (it goes all the way to 34th and 12th now!) and a smooth rolling night ride back to DC.. Stolen moments.
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