George Floyd protests – Karen's New York Love Affair

This month, I have been honored again to have my artwork accepted in an open exhibition at the Salmagundi Club. Last year, the photograph “Summer Piano in Washington Square Park” was part of a Village-themed exhibition co-sponsored by Village Preservation. I took the photo on my second trip to New York, in 2015, while I was having a mad crush on the city. The moment when I took the photo was also the birth of my Another New York Love Affair video art project on YouTube. The series is up to 53 videos now!

Karen Rempel Tailor 10x10 Framed — *Karen Rempel, Tailor, 10″ x 10″ Framed*

I took the photo currently on exhibit, “Tailor,” in May 2020, the day after the first major protests in New York in response to George Floyd’s murder. I was photographing the aftermath of the protests—burned police vehicles, graffiti, and broken windows—when I came across this whimsical display in the window of a Wash and Fold on University Place. My heart was pierced watching small business owners patch up their shattered storefronts. This miniature sculpture arrangement expressed a simpler, fairy-tale time, when mice came out at night to help the cobbler finish his work.

As I mentioned in my last post, I took a gallery walk on Madison Avenue in October. The Castelli Gallery had three Joseph Cornell paintings on display. A man working at the gallery showed me the backs of the artworks. Cornell had put art and found objects on the back of each frame. I was delighted at this secret treasure, which eludes all but the most curious viewers. This inspired me to do the same for my modest photo.

I haven’t done collage before, but I began collecting bits and pieces. The date for bringing my photo to the Salmagundi Club fell in the middle of my staycation weekend at the National Arts Club, so I brought the pieces with me, as well as all the supplies I thought I might need. The morning of November 7 dawned bright, and my room overlooked many windows of other creative New Yorkers who live across from Gramercy Park. I imagined each building was packed with artists and sculptors, and I was steeped in creative inspiration. After making coffee and checking on the New York Times election map (no decision yet), I brought out the makings and spread everything on the kitchen table.

The first piece was a beautiful watercolor painting of a pink and yellow-toned forest, from a chocolate wrapper my friend Lew gave me on my birthday. I had some “outtake” prints of my photo, from testing different types of paper, so I cut out a few bits from the photo—the sewing machine, the tape measures, and the woman doll’s head (with my own distorted reflection dimly seen). I had a postcard from my friend Sally’s recent birthday dinner at the Gramercy Tavern, and a wonderful zebra in a gold party hat cut from the birthday card my cousin Julie sent me from Germany.

I often think of the New York artists from the ’60s (Warhol, Rauchenberg, Stella, Lichtenstein, et al) when I slip on the shoes of artist, wondering how they felt as they prepared their art for exhibit, attending to the details of framing, wiring, and packing. I imagine my methodology is more feminine. I wrapped my 14 pieces for Shadow Play in pillow cases. Now here I was using birthday cards with a decidely pink tinge in my Cornell-inspired collage.

As I placed the pieces, trying different compositions, I needed a few more bits to fill it out. I turned to the copy of The Week laying on the table, and cut out the delightful squirrel dining at a mini picnic table. Suddenly I heard cheering, car horns honking, and bells ringing. I checked the NYT graphic on my phone, and Biden had surpassed 270 electoral college votes! Mad joy and euphoria spilled out around me, through me, and in texts with my cousin Julie in Germany and my sister Kim in Canada. New York was alive with celebration, and so were cities around the country. Half the world exhaled a profound sigh of relief. (The rub is in the other half, but let’s not dwell on that today.)

The cover of The Week had a signpost, with one pointing towards the current fake president, and the other pointing towards Biden. I cut out the sun shining through the clouds from the cover, and this was the last piece of the puzzle. I made a few final embellishments in silver ink, and one more mystery addition on the upper left corner of the frame. Ta da!

I love these moments of slipping into two dimensions and living an artist’s life. Then it’s back to the third dimension, lunch at Kubeh celebrating with friends, New York City alive again, for one brief day. Which is more real?

If you’re in New York, come to the Salmagundi Club and see the exhibit, November 10 to November 20.

Salmagundi Club, 47 Fifth Avenue at 12th Street. Open Tuesday-Friday 1-6 PM, Weekends 1-5 PM.

Empire Exploding - Martini Medicine — *Sometimes it takes a martini. This espresso martini is the sublime ending to a pandemic-shattering brunch at Osteria 57, 57 West 10th Street.*

July was one of the strangest months I’ve seen in NYC. The pandemic is “under control” but everyone is wearing masks. A necessary but bizarre and disturbing daily reality. The protests continue on. It’s been over two months since the first protest in New York, on May 30. Protestors are much more organized now. There has been a lot of legislative change and massive increase in public awareness of systemic racism, so the protestors have succeeded in their initial aims, but clearly the desire for real change has not been met yet.

*Homeless man rests on church steps on West 10th Street.*

Homelessness is a growing problem. An estimated 20% of New Yorkers are unemployed, and it’s uncertain whether the pandemic rent protection will continue much longer. Indeed, parts of the protection plan have ended. I am very concerned about what will happen as more New Yorkers lose their homes.

Homeless man sleeps on brownstone stoop. He is mentally ill and uses the stoop as his toilet. He blocks the passage of tenants into the building, and they literally have to step over him to enter or leave.

On the bright side, outdoor dining has taken over some New York streets, bringing a sense of unreality as people eat, drink, and be merry in the sunshine. Once seated at the table, the masks come off, and it seems like life is back to normal. I met with the brunch gang for the first time since March. Most of my friends have been in strict quarantine since the pandemic began. The company and decadently indulgent food and wine at Osteria 57 made us feel glad to be alive. The feast was capped with complementary canoli and the above-pictured espresso martinis. Almost worth waiting 4 months for.

Joyful hours spent with friends — *Joyful hours with friends as we have our first meal together since March.*

And in the most unusual July 4th celebration, the city shot off fireworks from the top of the Empire State Building. It was quite a symbol of our times to see the Empire exploding. A clever idea, of course, to allow a modest celebration that all New Yorkers could view, from all over the city, without crowding the streets as is the custom for July 4th firework viewing.

Moon over Manhattan — *Moon over the rooftops of Manhattan on July 4th.*

I feel a heavy dread in my heart, and it has been difficult to write anything for this blog, as I usually have something positive to share. As REM said so stirringly, it’s the end of the world as we know it, but I don’t feel fine.

Sun sets into New Jersey as I have a solo picnic by the Hudson River on July 4th. I reveled in the gooey, crispy tacos de pescado and a tart lime margarita from La Contenta Oeste on 6th Avenue. A moment of serenity as a man plays acoustic guitar on a nearby bench.

On top of the global and city-wide events, our building is mourning the loss of our beloved doorman Moss Kuqi, who died in June of a heart attack. He was a welcoming beacon of joy to many who live here, and I always felt uplifted by his warm greeting when I returned home. I miss him dearly. Blessings on your spirit, dear Moss.

Moss Kuqi, cuddling one of his tenants — *Moss Kuqi, cuddling one of his favorite tenants*

Tag: George Floyd protests

Slipping into the Third Dimension

Exploding Empire