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Alison Jane RiceI arrived in the city of yellow taxis and giant billboards two days before my opening reception. The spring night when we arrivedwas tempting but jetlag loomed. We began exploring on Wednesday, with a cab ride. Installation was in full swing at the galleryso we departed smiling, with the Chelsea Markets beckoning to us to explore. The Green Table lured us in: organic chicken andvegetable pie, rhubarb tart with rosemary ice cream. Delish!I soaked in the images. Excavated stone and steel corridors adorned with blues greats: B B King, Muddy Waters, Bo Diddley.Creative food hubs and surreal sweet displays.The Pop Shop, Eleni’s New York, Fat Witch Bakery. Hip, funky and alive with that Nooo Yawk accent. Hours later, our legsdragged us back through the twilight into Times Square. Into the mayhem, onto the pavement of extremes, like a Jackson Pollockoriginal dripping with color, frenzied movement and the unexpected.Billboards swallowed us up, a street artist caricatured us in charcoal. NYPD cops gave us directions, posed for photos andsmiled at my funny accent. And then I dined with my beloved husband at Rue 57 on luscious French fare, champagne and conversation...waaay beyond midnight!I slept through the daylight hours of Thursday, but still arrived on time for the Opening. The elegant hum of early arrivals turnedto a buzz as artists, collectors and friends gathered. I could no longer read the sound of conversation, I just experienced it: theebb and flow of different generations and mediums intent on a collective interest.In a room suffused with sound composition, fleeting glances and fashion projections, I was witnessing unedited phenomena inthe making, a living installation unfolding in this contemporary exhibition space – Agora Gallery, steered by a dedicated group ofyoung women with Angela at the helm.Friday in Central Park was a Pre-Raphaelite dream: squirrels scurrying amidst the emerald green and rustic tones of a warmspring day; a beat boy, maneuvering gigantic rainbow bubbles from an orange bucket into a makeshift hoop against a backdropof whisper blue hydrangeas; a juvenile comedian with his ‘$1 Jokes, Laughter Guaranteed’ sign; horse-drawn carriages; EddieRapp, a master fiddler of infectious tunes; the lake, reminiscent of Renoir’s painting, ‘Boats’; Belvedere castle, illuminated ingolden light, tortoises under the pier, orange tulips phosphorescent in the sun; night time closing in before the cool air usheredus into the Met and the dark savage beauty of the Alexander McQueen exhibit.Saturday unraveled a magic carpet as the road to Times Square was cordoned off for the annual Manhattan street market.Greenwich Village was our destination and my reward... historic facades, cobbled paving stones and surprising antique characters.Late afternoon, a ride to the top of the Empire State Building, with its art deco splendor, views going on forever and AnAffair to Remember. Evening was a full blown Broadway triumph: Priscilla Queen of the Desert co-produced for the Americanmarket by the Divine Miss M.And Sunday? Reflection on our New York experience as we began the long drive toward one of my favorite holiday destinations:The Mirror Lake Inn, Lake Placid. I was satisfied, inspired, and delighted.www.Agora-Gallery.com/ArtistPage/Alison__Jane_Rice.aspx77 ARTisSpectrum