New York City: Evoking the Muse by Angela Di Bello The Muse - she was once the female platonic ideal, a deity, a sage, a goddess; <strong>and</strong> for hundreds <strong>of</strong> years the blessing <strong>of</strong> a Muse was essential for the creation <strong>of</strong> art. For many artists, the Muse is alive <strong>and</strong> well, infusing the psyche with a gust <strong>of</strong> the divine, to inspire not imitation but new insights. For many years I have privately addressed the issue <strong>of</strong> new art forms with artists from every corner <strong>of</strong> the world. This dialogue has culminated in the theory that today’s muse is <strong>of</strong>ten either a physical place or a place in the heart. Over the past ten years artists have discussed with me the inspiration that becomes manifest when they are exposed to the spirit <strong>and</strong> energy <strong>of</strong> New York City. In the November 2010 issue <strong>of</strong> <strong>ARTisSpectrum</strong>, five artists shared their experiences <strong>of</strong> the city with our readers. This proved to be extremely popular, <strong>and</strong> for this edition I have invited seven artists to do the same. I thank Adka, Caroline, Heather, Kristina, Mary, Susannah <strong>and</strong> Wendy for their evocative <strong>and</strong> powerful contributions, <strong>and</strong> encourage others to share their experiences with us for the November 2011 issue <strong>of</strong> <strong>ARTisSpectrum</strong>. Dr. Caroline Josephs Ph.D. in front <strong>of</strong> Riverside Park, NYC 62 <strong>ARTisSpectrum</strong>
Dr. Caroline Josephs PhD Sydney -- summer-heat-humidity to… New York -- flurry-scurry-hurry <strong>of</strong> a blizzard-building Boxing Day… Snowflakes fluff pell-mell, kissing faces, dit-dotting spaces between verticals…white crystalline blurry furry on grey pavements… Coated figures, wind-bent, hailing cabs… Snug studio, sky <strong>of</strong> yellow glow, glowering thunder, lightning – roaring through white night … Madison Avenue early morning wears thick pristine blanket coat…S<strong>of</strong>tly speechless no traffic. Solitary bus str<strong>and</strong>ed – beached pale whale cuts road… Tiptoe, boots pick-pock slowly through the crunch crunch snow piles -- Food Emporium … provision fossicking. Ledge, ridge, banister, branch, stair -- highlighted by unseen painter’s white oil tube extrusions… Listen! Silence…New Yorkers brave storm aftermath, work-ways, mobiles to ears… Central Park…café -- omelettes, mushrooms, spinach, fetta, wood fire, warmed h<strong>and</strong>s -- for a few dollars – dark wood tables, chairs, frozen lake view…Ear-muffed walkers, runners, dogs romp, children bundled in strollers, couples - skis on shoulders, bike rickshaw drivers lounge, hug themselves, awaiting customers …Young man pr<strong>of</strong>fers helping h<strong>and</strong> at patch <strong>of</strong> ice, noticing my hesitant steps. Music -- sounds sublime, melancholic, draws me in, a hooked fish… Beneath a bridge, domain <strong>of</strong> frescoes, tiles… deepest velvet tones – an African-American man singing soulful spirituals; companion bows a double bass. Walking, walking, gingerly -- a squirrel scampers close - in expectation <strong>of</strong> breakfast. An abstract artist’s patterns -- snow on rocks, sun glints on stone… John Lennon, the Dakota…‘Imagine all the people, living for today…uh uh uh uh…’ The subway…the city’s mythic subterranean life. Figures helter skelter up stairs scramble shamble down escalators, stairs, waiting, patient, still, queuing, strap-hanging, faces lined, faces youthful, faces in myriad manifestation -- sleeping, reading, chatting, bumping, along … Four young men startle our carriage. Rap. Caps akimbo. Portable player bites out. Insistent rhythms. Muscles glisten. Dyads somersault. Legs leap, dart, dance, rip, rap, roar … Raw leopard prowess… Applause! The carriage opens its purse. Performers, sweat-soaked, ‘The more you give, the more we have!’ Guggenheim. Wrapped, rapt, in a giant conch shell curving cavern <strong>of</strong> whites, yellows, darkly moving r<strong>and</strong>om figures -- Pina- Bausch-like ballet… sculpt inner space…breathless, with excitement. Museum <strong>of</strong> American Indian. Menatay (Manhattan)…The spot where American Indians sold <strong>of</strong>f l<strong>and</strong>. Walking trails…<strong>of</strong> old… now Broadway, main thoroughfares. Where are their people? Wondrous artefacts in eerie spaces -- the old Customs House… The Y’s indoor swim pool refreshes… Ms. Mermaid enters her home realm – intricate tiling walls, turquoise water…return to evanescing body… Agora. Sparkling white bays <strong>of</strong> artists’ delight…Angela <strong>of</strong>fers choices, guides… Being, held here… Questions tumble. Women <strong>of</strong> the gallery…Sabrina, Clara, Nellie… midwives <strong>of</strong> emergence -- a May exhibition…Departing into snow <strong>of</strong> Chelsea… heartened. Storyteller, Buddhist teacher, Laura…Hours slip by, weaving stories. Says the listener to the storyteller…’Isn’t there even one happy-ending-story in your l<strong>and</strong>?’ ‘Oh yes’, says the storyteller…There was a man. He loses everything. He goes… into the desert. Throws up his h<strong>and</strong>s, says, ‘Who cares!’ Recalling September 11, 2001, peering into construction hole, cranes -- -- from lookout at World Financial Center…Here ... a constantly re-generating city -- with verve, with ‘attitude’, humming, vibrant, sassy -- New York! www.Agora-Gallery.com/<strong>Art</strong>istPage/Caroline_Josephs_Phd.aspx 63 <strong>ARTisSpectrum</strong>