Abstract

We haven't had much snow yet this winter, but this bus window still needs a good cleaning. With the sun shining on the glass, First Avenue was just a gritty abstract.

Cars

I've always loved the details on cars. Here are a few that have been sitting in the folder forever.

Saturday reflections

I was desperate for fresh air this afternoon, but it was cold and the sidewalks were slippery, so one trip around the block and a quick stop at the grocery were enough of an adventure for today.

This car on 43rd Street looked appropriately weather-weary.

Blue

These shapes and that color are very soothing, and I'm so sick of coughing I can use all the soothing I can get.

Saturday reflections

I took this picture as we were trying to navigate our way out of the car rental lot at Minneapolis-St. Paul airport in June. I liked the abstract weirdness of that grid and the reflections on the car.

Saturday reflections

Pier 34 on the Hudson in the rain this morning. One of my fellow teachers was doing a mile and a half swim in the river today, and several of us turned out to cheer her on.

Saturday reflections

Cars in a parking lot sporting some amazing reflections.

I took this picture about six months ago—I remember that I was cutting through the parking lot on my way somewhere in a tremendous hurry, though I no longer remember where I was exactly or where I was going. But obviously I had to stop and take this picture.

Anyway, it promptly got buried in the hundreds of photos on my phone related to school and our group chats, and I found it today when I was trying to clean some of the junk out.

I'm shattered

Well, that's an exaggeration for me personally, but less so for these remains of a large mirror that until late last night sat on top of some shelves in my apartment. (Or our honor and reputation as a country, though that is not something I have the energy to think about today.)

Yesterday after having made it to class at the last possible minute because I could not find my phone, I got a text during lunch because of fraudulent charges on the credit card I use most often. They're issuing a new card, and while I'm grateful that it's being taken care of, it means I will have to go through the tedious process of updating all the automatic charges.

Another series of texts late that afternoon informed me that I am an "ignorant moron" who should leave the USA for Ukraine. This was apparently in response to some texts the previous day on the teachers' group chat, expressing our anger over the White House meeting and joking that we should leave and open a language school in Europe. This was unnerving, to say the least. It was not only the malicious tone of the texts, but the fact that our chat had been intercepted and read by some unknown person. (Only those of us who had actually commented in the chat the previous day received the texts.) I know SMS texts are not really secure, and it's not as though we were plotting a rebellion but in this political climate you don't want strangers looking over your shoulder.

We set up a new group on WhatsApp, I watched some TV and tried to relax, and then broke the mirror on my way to the bathroom before bed.

Yes, that person vacuuming at midnight last night was me.

One more abstract

A glacier on the mountains overlooking Gold Harbour in South Georgia.

Abstract ice

Closeups of some of the beautiful patterns made by glacier ice, rock, and snow in Antarctica. Water and pressure and erosion can create such beauty.

As long as it's outside our bodies, that is. I injured my knee during the cruise—I'm not sure, but I think it was when I was getting into bed one night and the ship's motion made me land awkwardly. I really twisted it, and I remember yelping. But although it ached a little, it didn't cause me any real issues until I came home, and the small ache just got progressively worse. By the time I finally got in to see a doctor last week I could no longer walk down stairs, or get up from a sitting position without pushing or pulling with my arms. Anti-inflammatories and a cortisone shot have helped a lot, and today was my first session of what will be at least six weeks of physical therapy.

Something a little more abstract

The kelp that lined some of the beaches in South Georgia made beautiful abstract patterns.

I learned on this trip that kelp is not actually a plant, it is algae. I don't think this knowledge will ever be relevant to my life, but that's okay. I like knowing things.

Evanescent

Some closeups from a fun art installation at Brookfield Place in New York, where I had lunch with my class on Saturday. It's called Evanescent and was created by Atelier Sisu, a design studio in Sydney.

The young daughter of one of my students informed me that the bubbles were “awesome”. And she was right.

Abstract

That brown Kaministiquia River water and the white foam make a nice abstract.

Saturday reflections, belatedly

Yes, I'm still here. More or less—just overwhelmed by school at the moment.

Here's a nicely abstract car reflection.

Insomnia

You know you're a photographer when....your reaction to being unable to sleep is grabbing your phone to take pictures of the shadows on the ceiling.

But that abstract was irresistible!

And now for something completely different

I've been taking pictures of empty storefronts on my walks through the city, and will post a series when (if) it feels less depressing to me.

Here are mannequins in the window of a store for rent on West 30th Street, with some crazy color filters that I applied accidentally and then liked the look of.

Saturday reflections

This is probably more of an abstract shot than a reflection, but I love it, so here it is.

Saturday reflections

This gorgeous car reflection is so abstract you can hardly see the car.

Bonus Saturday reflections

Because I've been posting so sporadically over the past several weeks, and will probably disappear again while I crank out a few more big papers before the end of the semester, here's a bonus: a more abstract closeup of those lovely pink azaleas, reflected in their namesake pond.

Saturday reflections

 The Azalea Pond in Central Park this morning would definitely have caught Monsieur Monet's eye.

Yes, this morning. I ended up having to get an extension on my curriculum paper, but I finally turned it in yesterday, and so this morning I took my vaccinated self back to the Ramble for the first time since last February.

It was strange. Wonderful, but a little scary and terribly, terribly strange. I took an Uber up to the park; I was masked, the driver was masked, and yet after only a few blocks I wanted to yell Stop the car! and flee back to the safety of my apartment. I felt a little better once I was actually in the park, though I was unnerved by all the people. It was hardly surprising that the park would be crowded on a gorgeous spring day when we've all spent far too much time inside over the past year, but it's going to be a long time before I feel comfortable around a mass of people again. 

Fortunately it's always much less crowded in the Ramble. I sat on a bench at one point and pulled down my mask; the CDC says I'm allowed to do that now and there was no one else around, but it still felt vaguely transgressive. I closed my eyes and savored the moment, suddenly wanting to cry because the feel of the sun warming my skin, the breeze on my bare face -- such small, lovely things -- made me realize how desperately I have missed, well, everything. I haven't let myself think about all the things, big and little, major and minor,  that the pandemic took away. I can't think about them and remain sane. But I got a little bit back today. Just for a little while. Then I pulled up my mask and headed back into the crowds.

I did see many birds, took a hundred bad pictures and a few decent ones, and then took a cab home, which was possibly the best part of the outing.  Flying down Ninth Avenue with the windows open, talking to the cabbie about India and Brazil and the street repairs on the West Side -- it was so normal, so beautifully normal. 

And yet, it was like a memory of a place I used to live, a language I used to speak, half-forgotten now. It was strange. Wonderful and a little scary, and terribly, terribly strange.