Falling up

Sunday morning a dog tied to an iron gate cried like a gull to its owners watching over their child in the park. They cautiously pushed and pulled against each other, swinging the child back and forth in its swing. The dog cried on. The day broke a grey underbelly of the bird. The day threatened rain.

I met Yw in the afternoon. We had lunch at a diner and then crossed the street to PS1. In the courtyard we sat on cut cardboard tubes. Black rubber stretched over their mouths; you could alternately beat them like a drum or let yourself be cradled by them. We chose the latter and sat until the sun emerged from the haze.

In the museum, we toured the Olafur Eliasson exhibit. His forms and photographs lined the walls of the galleries that surrounded a main central room. In the center room, a circular reflective surface rotated on the ceiling. Visitors lay on the floor, looking up at their reflections, which appeared stuck to the ceiling. Yw and I lay down. Then we began to recreate hieroglyphic forms. From there we traced shapes with our bodies, moving slowly between them like synchronized swimmers. We spent an hour lying on the floor, looking up at the tableaux we created.

Downstairs, we admired a lit curtain of falling mist in an otherwise darkened room. It looked like smoke running in reverse. We walked through the curtain and watched people from behind, their heads lit from above with the single bulb.

A light rain had begun to fall. We bought drinks at the museum cafe and sat on the patio under a white tarp. We faced the courtyard and watched as lighting streaked across the sky. Soon the skies opened and the rain and wind lashed at our meager protection. We waited out the storm. Desaturated flags flew from the museum roof, and we admired their grey and white designs against the grey skies.

At six o'clock, the museum closed. The rain had stopped and the staff ushered visitors off the patio and towards the gates. We walked to the river and sat on the piers jutting out into the Hudson river. We made plans to come for the 4th of July; Yw cautioned me about the crowds.

Couples and families wandered the pier, out on a walk or walking their dogs. Two puppies began playing and in the course of their rough-housing broke free from their owners. They ran down the length of the pier and then back again to their owners' relief. Once they were separated, they seemed to forget about each other. The sun set slowly behind the city, the haze softly diffused the light.

An Indian family gathered behind us, the women in saris, the men in short sleeve polo shirts and slacks or shorts. We admired them and watched them take family portraits. Looking back towards the shore, we saw a storm collecting once again and decided to head back. The coming night matched the dark clouds to the sky.
Posted by eku at June 30, 2008 1:12 PM