My friend Mamen shooting a macro of ice on the north face of Bear Mountain.
Taken with iPhone 4S through glass, 2″ across
I met an old and dear friend, Mamen Saura who was visiting New York and we went to a exhibition at the Metropolitan Museum of Art: Wonder of the Age: Master Painters of India, 1100–1900.
The exhibition is made up mostly of book pages displayed flat. The scale is so small that the museum has a box of large magnifying glasses that are essential for seeing the pieces, even if you have perfect vision (which I don’t, I used both my reading glasses and the magnifiers).
I hadn’t been to the Met in years and I have to say, it’s so overwhelming my head was spinning. Mamen and I took in the first room of this six room show and had to go sit down and have lunch, we were totally exhausted. We went back and saw the rest of it but in fact, we both ran out of energy before the end. I plan to return with my wife Anne to see it again, it’s that good.
On the way to that exhibition we passed through the new permanent exhibition of Islamic art which is also spectacular. The Met really knows how to display art and while this is to be expected, not every museum does as good a job. I’m not trying to be a “New York snob” but in fact, MoMA is also an excellent place to see an exhibition: the Henri Cartier Bresson show that Anne and I saw there recently was beautifully presented.
Note: nn closer inspection of this Indian art from the 1500’s we found the beginnings of Apple marketing to the rich and famous. We weren’t aware that Apple made pink iPads but no doubt the teenage girls of that era were pleased as punch over it.
Bull’s Bridge, Connecticut. Bull’s Bridge* (behind Mamen) is one of the oldest covered bridges in Connecticut and the Housatonic River, which runs under it drops in a series of falls and rapids that Mamen is “shooting” here.
We’d driven by this spot on our way to the Metro North train to New York and decided to return there to see if we could find a photo or two. It was a bit bright for shots like this so we didn’t do well but it was fun anyway, just being out with a good friend.
*The wonderful thing about this bridge, for me, is that in the 1930s my father used to hitch hike up Rt. 22 from New York and walk across this bridge on his way to various waiter jobs in camps and lodges tucked into the lakes in Connecticut near where I now live. Later, when I used to drive him across Bull’s bridge he’d start into one of many long stories about all the girlfriends… never mind.