Summer/Fall 2012 Download PDF - The Studio Museum in Harlem
Summer/Fall 2012 Download PDF - The Studio Museum in Harlem
Summer/Fall 2012 Download PDF - The Studio Museum in Harlem
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<strong>Museum</strong>21<strong>Harlem</strong>Postcards<strong>Summer</strong> <strong>2012</strong>Moyra DaveyBorn 1958, Toronto, CanadaLives and works <strong>in</strong> New York, NYLauren HalseyBorn 1987, Los Angeles, CALives and works <strong>in</strong> Los Angeles, CACritter, <strong>2012</strong>Summa Evreethang, <strong>2012</strong>For twelve years I’ve lived <strong>in</strong> an apartment overlook<strong>in</strong>gTr<strong>in</strong>ity Cemetery. I watch it change from twig-brown andsnow-dusted <strong>in</strong> w<strong>in</strong>ter, to delicate green <strong>in</strong> spr<strong>in</strong>g, andf<strong>in</strong>ally to a burst of dense emerald puffs of foliage bysummer. When the trees are bare, you can see how thecemetery is laid out <strong>in</strong> a spiral formation cut <strong>in</strong>to a mound,a little like Bruegel’s <strong>The</strong> Tower of Babel. By summer, thisstructural view is obliterated by the <strong>in</strong>tense proliferationof vegetation, and if you walk there on a hot day you mightmistake this t<strong>in</strong>y patch of land for jungle, so thick is thetangle of v<strong>in</strong>es and ivy, so deafen<strong>in</strong>g the chants of cicadasand crows. Tr<strong>in</strong>ity, dense with avian life, is also home tomany hawks. John James Audubon, the bird-man, is buriedhere, as is Ralph Ellison. That day, th<strong>in</strong>k<strong>in</strong>g of <strong>Harlem</strong>’s richliterary history, I sought out his grave.Commodity culture <strong>in</strong> <strong>Harlem</strong> is rich with merchantsand artisans sell<strong>in</strong>g a vivid assortment of <strong>in</strong>cense, oils, art,jewelry, cloth<strong>in</strong>g and mix CDs. Some merchants sell “Bestof” CDs alongside personalized soundtracks that embodythe moods of barbeques, lovemak<strong>in</strong>g and catch<strong>in</strong>g theHoly Ghost. Song lists become recipes to atta<strong>in</strong> the idealizedexperiences of the titles, for a dollar: “Don’t Say Goodnight,”“<strong>The</strong> Glory of Black Gospel,” “Turn Off the Lights,Mix II,” “Let’s Party.” An older man near 125th Street andFrederick Douglass Boulevard tiled his mixes atop a picnictable. I bought twenty. He became fixated on all twentyas a collective, smiled and promised me a good night.