This blog was written in October 2012, twenty years ago.
Shortly after Hurricane Sandy ravished New York.
I compare it to what is happening now.
I imagine our spring and summer will be as extreme as our winter was. But I am talking about Chicago now, though much still applies to NYC.
Direct effects of disturbing the Gaia are happening in front of our very eyes.
Storms happening not just in our skies, but in our Democracy, in our Constitution, in our cities and towns, in our homes, and apparently in our hearts.
Looking at the past can sometimes shed light on the present.
Nothing like a storm to wake you up.
Are storms contagious? It seemed like it spread in my household with my father and I. Dad actually went out in the storm and came back angry and perplexed, as though he had been lied to by some mistaken meteorologist. I suddenly realized how intimately this storm effected people's lives.
It had been a long time since I walked down to the Manhattan Bridge, but there was no other way to get to Brooklyn. Most traffic was going uptown and not over the crowded bridges. So I walked slowly and took note of the old feeling that I used to get from parts of NYC that were vacant and quiet, that no longer exist, but here I was walking through them Thursday night - Soho, the Village, huge neighborhoods completely desolate and empty.
Had I known what the effects of Hurricane Sandy would have been in my life, I would have certainly tried to be better prepared. Though it was very stressful, I got into Manhattan on Thursday.
Are storms contagious? It seemed like it spread in my household with my father and I. Dad actually went out in the storm and came back angry and perplexed, as though he had been lied to by some mistaken meteorologist. I suddenly realized how intimately this storm effected people's lives.
It had been a long time since I walked down to the Manhattan Bridge, but there was no other way to get to Brooklyn. Most traffic was going uptown and not over the crowded bridges. So I walked slowly and took note of the old feeling that I used to get from parts of NYC that were vacant and quiet, that no longer exist, but here I was walking through them Thursday night - Soho, the Village, huge neighborhoods completely desolate and empty.
Had I known what the effects of Hurricane Sandy would have been in my life, I would have certainly tried to be better prepared. Though it was very stressful, I got into Manhattan on Thursday.
I have real trouble with crowds, so it was easy to stay away from the few stores that were open then. Put in a full day of work...then the best part of my day - walking down to the Manhattan Bridge. It was like walking back in time. The old New York I knew like an old friend who I hadn't seen in a very long time. The further south I walked, the fewer people I saw. Then the bizarre building at 14th street and 8th avenue with the entire front ripped off exposing the 3 floors - obviously a crap restoration that Sandy would expose!
Wandering down a beautiful street in Soho, I found my vision. On the large open sidewalks, an 8 x 10 inch painting lay on the ground staring up at me. Dabs of bright orange paint arranged in a sporadic pattern on a clear piece of plastic jumped out at me - mesmerizing me, as though it were three dimensional. The iron street grating had rusted onto the plastic wrapper creating a pattern and an image. I took it with me back to my studio and translated it into dabs of red paint onto several paintings.
It brought to mind an old Dove chocolate wrapper fortune: "In chaos, there is opportunity".
Pandemic Sunset, Chicago
