Procrastinating through culture

I have an extra hour today, so I might as well update. Actually, that's more a reason I should be outside enjoying the beautiful day and perhaps ringing cowbells at marathoners because today the sun sets at 4:47. That's not an acceptable time for nightfall in November, and I go on record as against daylight savings time again this year. To celebrate the last day of pre-5 pm sunlight for a while, I did very little outside yesterday, and in fact, spent much of it inside at the museum. I recently renewed by membership to the Moma (after their many emails and thinly veiled threats about raising prices on membership fees if I didn't renew in the next few days), and yesterday seemed like a fine one to check out the much ballyhooed de Kooning retrospective.

What I learned from this exhibit is that I really didn't know much about de Kooning (which actually is fairly true of any modern artist). I like him better than the Cy Twombly's of the world though, and it was a well put together exhibit. While at the museum, my friends and I also checked out the labyrinth made of sheets in the atrium called Sum of Days. I'd read about it, and the idea sounded really cool in theory: you walk through a maze of hanging sheets that extend the six stories to the Moma's ceiling and while walking through microphones record the sounds of people walking through and project the sounds of previous days into the labyrinth. However, I think this is an exhibit that is much better in theory than in practice. One of my friends, who knows a fair bit about sound, said the way the microphones were hung basically ensured that after a few days all that you would hear would be a static white noise. Which incidentally is what we heard. I was more concerned with the fact that the "labyrinth" was more of a single concentric circle leading to the exit. I realize they were limited by space, but can you even call that a labyrinth if it takes you less than a minute to get to the center and back out? The curtains were cool though, and in smell and opacity kind of reminded me of huge dryer sheets.

This is the center: your reward for following the crowd through one turn in this not terribly grueling labyrinth. This makes me regret not springing the $10 for the corn maze at the Queen's Farm Museum this fall.

The other major exhibit on at the Moma right now is one called "Talk to Me" and explores how people communicate with objects. I think I didn't give this one the mental energy I needed to in order to fully understand it, but man, did I just not get this. The trouble started when I noticed I was glazing over while reading the description at the beginning of the exhibit. Then there were a series of videos played that seemed to have no connection (but likely did). One of them was 3D and had several pairs of 3D glasses hanging from the ceiling on wires. My problem with this was that they hung the glasses so that you couldn't really use them at eye level unless you were 5'7'' (something I am not) or above. Why not hang the glasses at multiple lengths? Or hang them on a stretchable bungee that short (or, in my opinion: average height) users might also partake?

From this point on, I was more prioritizing chatting with friends than following the cohesion of the exhibit, so I can really only comment on individual things that caught my eye. There was a working Metrocard selling machine (or I assume it working, although I never actually went so far as to put money in it). There was a series of headsets where you could listen to the innerworkings of a tree. There was a box of what (I hope) was fake, brightly-colored feces that was made my engineering certain e coli (is this really communication?). There was also a creepy bunny with a red light on it. Anyway, to sum up these vignettes, I think I need to go back and see this exhibit with a more open mind, which thanks to Moma membership--I can do for free, because right now it's making me feel dumb.

I will say, I think E. chromi is the perfect name for this.

Confession time: I'm actually writing this I realize, not so much to avoid enjoying these scant hours of daylight outside but because I'm avoiding working on what I'm supposed to be writing. There is a reason I should be inside at my computer on a lovely fall day, and sadly, blogging is not it. Therefore, I had best wrap this up and try to find other ways to eliminate writer's block.

A little WWII era Florida in Queens

I meant to write about this sooner since it was something I went to this past weekend. But then I got busy. And here we are, Wednesday, and the only words I've added to the blogger annals in the last week or so are about my cat. But yes, Wednesday or not, I can't not post about this because it is something I did in Long Island City which is Astoria adjacent, and I so rarely do things that come close to approximating my blog's original non-mission-statement.

So yes, this past weekend a friend (a Brooklynite biker who doesn't shy away from cross borough travel) invited me to an event in Long Island City. It was called The Palms, and it was billed as an attempt to transform a parking lot and raw building space into a "1940s Boca Raton resort experience with music, spectacle, and hedonism." Also, there were dumpster pools.

Dumpster pools were a popular thing last summer when there were a handful of free ones in Manhattan, but I never got to try one. They are basically what they sound like: swimming pools created from fully lined trash dumpsters. I think I read that the dumpsters in question were never previously used for trash disposal, but that may be just a thing they tell you. Either way it was fun to take a dip in one of them!

Dumpster pools: bringing new meaning to the concept of "dumpster diving."

The Palms was essentially a parking lot with fake grass and fancy lounge chairs (sadly, all taken by the time we got there). There were some tunes playing and people dancing with hula hoops (which I guess was hedonistic by 1940s standards?). There was also a nice bar selling sangria and a truck selling lobster rolls at the very 2011 price of $18 a piece.

In terms of "spectacle" there was a man doing some sort of public art piece. He was laying in front of the bar wrapped in a carpet. A tip jar on the bar had a sign on it that said "Please step on me." He was very encouraging of people standing on him. In fact, when I accidentally made eye contact while questioning if he would mind being in a photo (this was directly before realizing my camera was out of batteries--hence why there are no actual photos of The Palms in this post), he kept gesturing at me to stand on him. Rather than assume I was abstaining because I didn't feel comfortable standing on top of a stranger, he thought it was because his sign wasn't facing outward enough. He even unrolled himself from the carpet to adjust it. I'm not sure what the statement he was making was exactly, but it did seem to add to a certain spectacle.

The Palms is open every weekend until Labor Day. My friend and I went in the afternoon, but apparently the party goes until midnight. Any Astorian readers out there should definitely check it out. Just remember to bring your own towel because they charge $15 for those. Also BYOWG (bring your own water gun) because for some reason they have those on sale for $65. $65! And they're plastic! Sometimes I don't understand New York.

Leaving Astoria for the land of budget electric chairs

It was fairly beautiful in New York this weekend. Temperatures almost up to the 60s. All I needed was a light jacket and a park to walk around in and my weekend was set. Of course, after spending most of the weekend outside, my cold of the last few weeks seems to have flared up with a vengeance, so perhaps almost 60 isn't light jacket weather after all. Thanks goodness for cough drops. I'm finding that they always seem to taste less like "harvest peach" and "100% pure wildflower honey" and more like menthol, but at least I'm annoying my co-workers slightly less with my constant coughing.

This weekend, I left the gentle embrace of an Astorian Saturday and took a nice long ride on the N train down to Brooklyn. The reason for my borough betrayal? The hunt for cheap furniture. I read about the Film Biz Prop Shop in New York Magazine's recent "Best of New York" issue. Basically, its a thrift store full of cast-off props from movie, tv show, and music video shoots. As I have a new apartment coming up that needs a couple of pieces (mainly a small desk/table and possibly a coffee table), it seemed worth a trip. After all, IKEA furniture is cheap and great for frequent moves because you don't get too attached to it if it doesn't fit in your new place, but it is always nice to have a piece of furniture with a story. Or at least one people don't immediately shout out the Swedish name for as soon as they walk in your door, because they have the same $10 coffee table in their apartment.

To readers who live in New York, I would highly recommend a trip to the Film Biz Prop Shop. Although, I didn't buy anything (this was mostly just a research mission), I did find a lot of really cool items. They have a scale model of an electric chair for $500, a bunch of working typewriters, a scale model of the human brain, not to mention tons of things you might actually want to buy! Situated just out of smelling distance of the Gowanus Canal, the Prop Shop is located through a back fence, down a basement hallway, into the 11,000 foot show room. Short of putting up a "no trespassing" sign, I don't think they could make their entrance look less like an entrance. Definitely one of those places you need to know is there before going.

I would have gotten so many more and better pictures if I hadn't left my camera memory card at home, yet again. The Iphone doesn't capture the magnitude of the space well, but look at all the lamps!

In addition to having a great deal of nice, quirky furniture and housewares, there was also a full aisle of props for rather specific purposes, thoughtfully organized into boxes. This would definitely be a fine place to go for party decorations as they had a box for virtually very holiday or celebration. Also, if you're in the market for some fake food for your low-budget stage play, I know a great place to start.

I won't draw too much attention to this one because my grandmother sometimes reads my blog (Hi, Grandmother!), but this should give you an idea of some of the unique props and array of oddities for purchase.

Overall, even though I returned empty-handed (again, something I consider a good thing as if I bought anything now, it would be one more thing I would have to move in a couple of weeks), I had a lot of fun exploring this shop. Other than being located outside of Astoria, I have nothing but positive things to say about Film Biz.