Cooper Union Cooper Square

Cooper Square is a hotbed of controversy, from the new Cooper Union building above and below left, to the Cooper Square Hotel in the remaining photos.

The NY Times' Nicolai Ouroussoff mainly admires the Cooper Union building, for its boldness and the way it wears its construction material on its sleeve.  The Times ran some excellent photos with the article, but I like the one I took yesterday, above, that captures the armored, war elephant essence of the building.


The Cooper Square Hotel wears its decadence on its sleeve.  I'd wondered what it would be like for the crotchety hold-out owners of the two old buildings at its base -- with cavorting jet setters and cocaine music thumping till dawn a few feet above -- until I figured out that they've been absorbed into the hotel.  Note the space-age awning that skewers out the side of the old building, below.

I've had mixed feelings about both buildings all along.  I agree with Ouroussoff that (thoughtfully) bold design is good, and I make a distinction between buildings built for schools and those built for Masters of the Universe.  With my weakness for spectacle, I've enjoyed watching the Union building's construction, especially the scythe-like shapes captured above left.  And I like the crumpled parts of its veil of steel.  But I miss the view of the beautifully colored buildings behind (east of) it, and from the east the Union building doesn't pretend to care -- I've seen more consideration in proposed garbage barn designs.


And though I see the hotel as a bookend to the New Museum further down Bowery -- anchoring the conversion of yet another distinctive swath of NYC into something (Bloomberg and) the yacht club set can enjoy -- I admire its fetishistic finish and space-age look, and the honesty of its arrogance.  Where Donald Trump's erections hide amid the skyscraper grass of Midtown, the Cooper Square lords over the puny East Village like a mammoth alien sexual appliance shot from space -- Battlestar Dildactica? -- a monument to the penile enhancing power of unapologetic greed, and decadence that is an end in itself.

[ Rome Burns at Cooper Sq. Hotel, Jeremiah's VNY ]
[ Civic Value of a Bold Statement, Nicolai Ouroussoff, NY Times ]

Blank Billboards

Giant naked beer can, above Penn Station on Eighth Ave.
Pity the dinosaurs of advertising?  Not likely, but seeing so many blank billboards is a little disturbing.

It used to take some real investment, and steel supports, to subject us to huge ads.  Now the real world resembles the Internet, and crawls with massive banner ads printed on fabric that are easy to change as a t-shirt, like the ones at the bottom here.

Not only is it spooky to have ads crawl out of their slots onto the real world, but the emptiness spreads too.  Note how phony the photos of the cylindrical billboard near Penn Station look (on top and to the left) -- like they were computer generated.  Something about the blank beer can shape, and the emptiness of what would normally be the focus of attention, throws everything off kilter.


Above, blank billboards at Bowery and Kenmare, left; at S 4th St. and S 5th Pl. in Williamsburg, right.  Below, banner ads that loomed over Houston and Lafayette not long ago.

A Well-lit Corner

You just have to be there at the right time; on Fourth Ave at 9th St.

Wiring

I was a phone company cable splicer for a while, so I tend to notice utility lines.  On top and below left, a mainly cable TV cluster on Berry near N 8th in Williamsburg.


Above right, a waterfall of wire serves Bryant Park -- for stuff like the huge Citibank ice rink / mall last winter -- from a power generator on Sixth Ave.


Above left, a grainy closeup of a naked phone company splice -- where trunk cables, which can have thousands of wires, are connected.  Splices being worked on usually have a rubber "boot," like the one above right, to protect them from the elements until they get an aluminum case.


And finally -- near the splicing above, in front of Greenpoint's Newtown Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant on Provost near Green -- an old fire alarm box.  I fear its old wires, above left, may be connected to the wrong utility line -- note the ghostly glove of the last person to pull the alarm, above right.

Accidental Street Sculpture 2

Above, someone has been screwing with my Emergency Propaganda Trailer, parked at the Newtown Creek Wastewater Treatment Plant.

Below left, a used Budweiser has been perfectly placed next to the extension cord that powers some subterranean operation in the East Village.  And on the right, on Chrystie St. off Houston, a scene so synchronized I had to capture it -- even the legs line up, like Abbey Road.

Street Steam

A cauldron boils beneath New York City.

I like the steam shooting out the woman's head, to the left.  But my favorite steam incident, shown in the other photos, was in front of the St. Regis Hotel on 55th.

Sure geysers and natural vents are nice, but nothing says "Hell" like men breaking rock in the middle of hissing, wraith-like billows of scalding steam.


The curly plants, candy cane vent, and elfish doorman costume in the shot on top don't hurt either.

Welcome to the St. Regis, ma'am.  One of Lucifer's lackeys -- I mean one of our bell staff! -- will be right with you.