Posts tagged new york
New York City’s five boroughs first became Jeff Chen-Hsing Liao’s subjects when he moved to the U.S. from Taiwan in 1999 at the age of 22.
It was the city’s ever-changing landscape that fascinated the young photographer. “Every other week, you go to the same spot and something’s different,” Liao tells Newsweek. “New York is one of the most diverse cities—there are so many different cultures that blend into New York.”
To capture that culture, he photographed the same spot over the course of a day and combined the images.
See more of Liao’s images at Newsweek.com
ZoomInfo
New York City’s five boroughs first became Jeff Chen-Hsing Liao’s subjects when he moved to the U.S. from Taiwan in 1999 at the age of 22.
It was the city’s ever-changing landscape that fascinated the young photographer. “Every other week, you go to the same spot and something’s different,” Liao tells Newsweek. “New York is one of the most diverse cities—there are so many different cultures that blend into New York.”
To capture that culture, he photographed the same spot over the course of a day and combined the images.
See more of Liao’s images at Newsweek.com
ZoomInfo
New York City’s five boroughs first became Jeff Chen-Hsing Liao’s subjects when he moved to the U.S. from Taiwan in 1999 at the age of 22.
It was the city’s ever-changing landscape that fascinated the young photographer. “Every other week, you go to the same spot and something’s different,” Liao tells Newsweek. “New York is one of the most diverse cities—there are so many different cultures that blend into New York.”
To capture that culture, he photographed the same spot over the course of a day and combined the images.
See more of Liao’s images at Newsweek.com
ZoomInfo
New York City’s five boroughs first became Jeff Chen-Hsing Liao’s subjects when he moved to the U.S. from Taiwan in 1999 at the age of 22.
It was the city’s ever-changing landscape that fascinated the young photographer. “Every other week, you go to the same spot and something’s different,” Liao tells Newsweek. “New York is one of the most diverse cities—there are so many different cultures that blend into New York.”
To capture that culture, he photographed the same spot over the course of a day and combined the images.
See more of Liao’s images at Newsweek.com
ZoomInfo
New York City’s five boroughs first became Jeff Chen-Hsing Liao’s subjects when he moved to the U.S. from Taiwan in 1999 at the age of 22.
It was the city’s ever-changing landscape that fascinated the young photographer. “Every other week, you go to the same spot and something’s different,” Liao tells Newsweek. “New York is one of the most diverse cities—there are so many different cultures that blend into New York.”
To capture that culture, he photographed the same spot over the course of a day and combined the images.
See more of Liao’s images at Newsweek.com
ZoomInfo

New York City’s five boroughs first became Jeff Chen-Hsing Liao’s subjects when he moved to the U.S. from Taiwan in 1999 at the age of 22.

It was the city’s ever-changing landscape that fascinated the young photographer. “Every other week, you go to the same spot and something’s different,” Liao tells Newsweek. “New York is one of the most diverse cities—there are so many different cultures that blend into New York.”

To capture that culture, he photographed the same spot over the course of a day and combined the images.

See more of Liao’s images at Newsweek.com

I don’t really like dive bars, but I am always sad when one closes. I prefer to drink in a clean, well-lighted place where I don’t have to watch Yankees highlights or listen to the discomfiting political ideas of ancient barflies. But many others like the dimness, and the sweating bottles of Budweiser, and talking sports with someone they don’t know and never will, except for the duration of one boozy evening. 

These pleasures, to be found in dive bars, used to be readily available on the street corners of New York and Chicago, in establishments that had an Irish name, or a Polish name, or maybe no name at all—just a neon sign announcing the presence of cheap booze in uncomplicated arrangements. No longer so. To watch the agonizing death of the dive bar is to know that a species integral to urban ecology is disappearing. 

Regardless of your affection or animosity for that species, its extinction says nothing good about the way we live. You may, at this, point, ask an entirely reasonable question: What, exactly, is a dive bar, anyway? To which I will, in turn, supply an entirely honest answer: I have absolutely no idea. Unlike flora and fauna, watering holes do not abide by Linnaean taxonomy. 

Nevertheless, several negatives readily apply: This is not the place for the $18 kiwi-tini, nor for an Upper Peninsula artisanal ale lauded by the high culinary priests of Bon Appetit. The dive is not new, the dive is not fashionable, and the dive is not in the newspapers unless 1) it is closing, as dives often are, and 2) it is the setting of a crime, as dives also often are. The dive is not beautiful, and neither are the people within it. And that’s how they like it, thank you very much. 

Yuppies Are Killing the Dive Bar

I don’t really like dive bars, but I am always sad when one closes. I prefer to drink in a clean, well-lighted place where I don’t have to watch Yankees highlights or listen to the discomfiting political ideas of ancient barflies. But many others like the dimness, and the sweating bottles of Budweiser, and talking sports with someone they don’t know and never will, except for the duration of one boozy evening.

These pleasures, to be found in dive bars, used to be readily available on the street corners of New York and Chicago, in establishments that had an Irish name, or a Polish name, or maybe no name at all—just a neon sign announcing the presence of cheap booze in uncomplicated arrangements. No longer so. To watch the agonizing death of the dive bar is to know that a species integral to urban ecology is disappearing.

Regardless of your affection or animosity for that species, its extinction says nothing good about the way we live. You may, at this, point, ask an entirely reasonable question: What, exactly, is a dive bar, anyway? To which I will, in turn, supply an entirely honest answer: I have absolutely no idea. Unlike flora and fauna, watering holes do not abide by Linnaean taxonomy.

Nevertheless, several negatives readily apply: This is not the place for the $18 kiwi-tini, nor for an Upper Peninsula artisanal ale lauded by the high culinary priests of Bon Appetit. The dive is not new, the dive is not fashionable, and the dive is not in the newspapers unless 1) it is closing, as dives often are, and 2) it is the setting of a crime, as dives also often are. The dive is not beautiful, and neither are the people within it. And that’s how they like it, thank you very much.

Yuppies Are Killing the Dive Bar

The Horseless eCarriage was unveiled at the New York International Auto Show today, an old-timey and futuristic vehicle that animal activists and supporters of a horse-and-carriage ban hope could eventually replace the city’s animal-powered carriages. 

The prototype was modeled after a turn-of-the-century touring car, complete with brass trim and other authentic period details. So, bringing you vintage New York sans the manure smell.

The eCarriage is basically a battery-powered car made to look funny. It seats eight, plus a driver, and weighs around 7,000 pounds — probably closer to 8,000 if some tourists pack into the seats. It’s big, about the width and weight of a nine-passenger SUV, and a little wider than its antique version because “quite frankly so are we,” said Jason Wenig, who designed the eCarriage at his restoration company, the Florida-based Creative Workshop. 

Horseless eCarriages Unveiled at NY Auto Show — Daily Intelligencer

The Horseless eCarriage was unveiled at the New York International Auto Show today, an old-timey and futuristic vehicle that animal activists and supporters of a horse-and-carriage ban hope could eventually replace the city’s animal-powered carriages.

The prototype was modeled after a turn-of-the-century touring car, complete with brass trim and other authentic period details. So, bringing you vintage New York sans the manure smell.

The eCarriage is basically a battery-powered car made to look funny. It seats eight, plus a driver, and weighs around 7,000 pounds — probably closer to 8,000 if some tourists pack into the seats. It’s big, about the width and weight of a nine-passenger SUV, and a little wider than its antique version because “quite frankly so are we,” said Jason Wenig, who designed the eCarriage at his restoration company, the Florida-based Creative Workshop.

Horseless eCarriages Unveiled at NY Auto Show — Daily Intelligencer

When I heard that my 21-year-old son, a student at Harvard, had been stopped by New York City police on more than one occasion during the brief summer he spent as a Wall Street intern, I was angry. 

On one occasion, while wearing his best business suit, he was forced to lie face-down on a filthy sidewalk because—well, let’s be honest about it, because of the color of his skin. As an attorney and a college professor who teaches criminal justice classes, I knew that his constitutional rights had been violated. 

As a parent, I feared for his safety at the hands of the police—a fear that I feel every single day, whether he is in New York or elsewhere. 

Moreover, as the white father of an African-American son, I am keenly aware that I never face the suspicion and indignities that my son continuously confronts. In fact, all of the men among my African-American in-laws—and I literally mean every single one of them—can tell multiple stories of unjustified investigatory police stops of the sort that not a single one of my white male relatives has ever experienced. 

What I Learned About Stop-and-Frisk From Watching My Black Son - The Atlantic

When I heard that my 21-year-old son, a student at Harvard, had been stopped by New York City police on more than one occasion during the brief summer he spent as a Wall Street intern, I was angry.

On one occasion, while wearing his best business suit, he was forced to lie face-down on a filthy sidewalk because—well, let’s be honest about it, because of the color of his skin. As an attorney and a college professor who teaches criminal justice classes, I knew that his constitutional rights had been violated.

As a parent, I feared for his safety at the hands of the police—a fear that I feel every single day, whether he is in New York or elsewhere.

Moreover, as the white father of an African-American son, I am keenly aware that I never face the suspicion and indignities that my son continuously confronts. In fact, all of the men among my African-American in-laws—and I literally mean every single one of them—can tell multiple stories of unjustified investigatory police stops of the sort that not a single one of my white male relatives has ever experienced.

What I Learned About Stop-and-Frisk From Watching My Black Son - The Atlantic

On the evening of February 1st, 1924, the New York Symphony Orchestra played Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony at Carnegie Hall in New York, conducted by Walter Damrosch. Thankfully for those who couldn’t attend, the performance was broadcast live on the radio. A couple of days later, the orchestra received a stunning letter of thanks from the unlikeliest of sources: Helen Keller, a renowned author and activist who had been deaf and blind from a young age. It can be read below. Eight years later, Keller wrote an equally evocative letter in which she described the view from atop the Empire State Building. 

Click to read her text:  Letters of Note: My heart almost stood still

On the evening of February 1st, 1924, the New York Symphony Orchestra played Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony at Carnegie Hall in New York, conducted by Walter Damrosch. Thankfully for those who couldn’t attend, the performance was broadcast live on the radio. A couple of days later, the orchestra received a stunning letter of thanks from the unlikeliest of sources: Helen Keller, a renowned author and activist who had been deaf and blind from a young age. It can be read below. Eight years later, Keller wrote an equally evocative letter in which she described the view from atop the Empire State Building.

Click to read her text: Letters of Note: My heart almost stood still

Christo - Page - Interview

One cold winter day in 1964, I got a call from a young French woman inviting me to dinner in SoHo. Her name was Jeanne-Claude and she was married to an artist named Christo. I think they called me because Leo Castelli told them I could speak French. They had just arrived from Paris, where they created a scandal by barricading a street with barrels. Even then people called them “ChristoandJeanne-Claude,” as if the two names were one word. Later I learned they were born on the same day in the same year (June 13,1935). After a delicious dinner prepared by Jeanne-Claude of ketchup on white bread served on a paper plate, they explained how they worked, what they wanted to do, and why they were moving to New York. Already it was obvious they were two of a kind who had become one. Jeanne-Claude, a vivacious, beautiful redhead, would begin a sentence, and Christo, an intense, fast-talking fugitive from Communist Eastern Europe, would finish it in his Bulgarian-accented French, or vice-versa. 

Their story was very romantic, and the work they planned to do seemed preposterous in the mid-’60s. But they were brilliant, charismatic, generous, and funny. They were also very courageous. Even if at the time it seemed they were building castles in the air rather than art objects, it was impossible not to like them or listen to their tales of fantastic projects and voyages. Already they had figured out a way of working, conceptualizing the projects together, which Christo—an extraordinarily gifted and academically trained draftsman—would then draw. The money to realize the vast projects, which became more and more ambitious as time went on, came from the sale of Christo’s drawings and collages; but the concrete realization of the projects depended very much on Jeanne-Claude’s amazing organizational skills learned, perhaps, from her step-father, a four-star French general under de Gaulle.

Christo - Page - Interview

One cold winter day in 1964, I got a call from a young French woman inviting me to dinner in SoHo. Her name was Jeanne-Claude and she was married to an artist named Christo. I think they called me because Leo Castelli told them I could speak French. They had just arrived from Paris, where they created a scandal by barricading a street with barrels. Even then people called them “ChristoandJeanne-Claude,” as if the two names were one word. Later I learned they were born on the same day in the same year (June 13,1935). After a delicious dinner prepared by Jeanne-Claude of ketchup on white bread served on a paper plate, they explained how they worked, what they wanted to do, and why they were moving to New York. Already it was obvious they were two of a kind who had become one. Jeanne-Claude, a vivacious, beautiful redhead, would begin a sentence, and Christo, an intense, fast-talking fugitive from Communist Eastern Europe, would finish it in his Bulgarian-accented French, or vice-versa.

Their story was very romantic, and the work they planned to do seemed preposterous in the mid-’60s. But they were brilliant, charismatic, generous, and funny. They were also very courageous. Even if at the time it seemed they were building castles in the air rather than art objects, it was impossible not to like them or listen to their tales of fantastic projects and voyages. Already they had figured out a way of working, conceptualizing the projects together, which Christo—an extraordinarily gifted and academically trained draftsman—would then draw. The money to realize the vast projects, which became more and more ambitious as time went on, came from the sale of Christo’s drawings and collages; but the concrete realization of the projects depended very much on Jeanne-Claude’s amazing organizational skills learned, perhaps, from her step-father, a four-star French general under de Gaulle.

wnyc:

Not surprisingly, rats of a feather nibble together. Gothamist has a map that shows the concentration, by neighborhood, of restaurants that have a C letter grade and have rodent violations. In some parts of the city, it’s a majority of restaurants.
-Jody, BL Show-

wnyc:

Not surprisingly, rats of a feather nibble together. Gothamist has a map that shows the concentration, by neighborhood, of restaurants that have a C letter grade and have rodent violations. In some parts of the city, it’s a majority of restaurants.

-Jody, BL Show-

[photo | map via datanews]
While declining tax revenues and increasing costs mean that many municipalities have slashed spending on quality-of-life programs for people, domesticated canines fared quite well: The number of dog parks in the country’s 100 most populous cities surged from 353 in 2008 to 617 in 2013, according to new data provided to Newsweek.
“It’s just growing by leaps and bounds,” Peter Harnik, who directs the Trust for Public Land’s Center for City Park Excellence and compiled these statistics, told Newsweek.
There has been a steady increase in these recreation areas since Berkeley, California’s Ohlone Dog Park (billed as the world’s first) opened in 1979, but this recent surge reflects a shift in American attitudes about canines, who are often perceived as members of the family rather than mere pets.
The latest U.S. Census figures indicate that more households have dogs than kids – 43 million compared to 38 million, respectively– and the American Pet Products Association estimates that spending on pets hit at least $55 billion in 2013, a 4.1 percent increase from 2012.
Says Harnick: “It’s becoming like France.” [The rest of the story.] 
ZoomInfo
[photo | map via datanews]
While declining tax revenues and increasing costs mean that many municipalities have slashed spending on quality-of-life programs for people, domesticated canines fared quite well: The number of dog parks in the country’s 100 most populous cities surged from 353 in 2008 to 617 in 2013, according to new data provided to Newsweek.
“It’s just growing by leaps and bounds,” Peter Harnik, who directs the Trust for Public Land’s Center for City Park Excellence and compiled these statistics, told Newsweek.
There has been a steady increase in these recreation areas since Berkeley, California’s Ohlone Dog Park (billed as the world’s first) opened in 1979, but this recent surge reflects a shift in American attitudes about canines, who are often perceived as members of the family rather than mere pets.
The latest U.S. Census figures indicate that more households have dogs than kids – 43 million compared to 38 million, respectively– and the American Pet Products Association estimates that spending on pets hit at least $55 billion in 2013, a 4.1 percent increase from 2012.
Says Harnick: “It’s becoming like France.” [The rest of the story.] 
ZoomInfo

[photo | map via datanews]

While declining tax revenues and increasing costs mean that many municipalities have slashed spending on quality-of-life programs for people, domesticated canines fared quite well: The number of dog parks in the country’s 100 most populous cities surged from 353 in 2008 to 617 in 2013, according to new data provided to Newsweek.

“It’s just growing by leaps and bounds,” Peter Harnik, who directs the Trust for Public Land’s Center for City Park Excellence and compiled these statistics, told Newsweek.

There has been a steady increase in these recreation areas since Berkeley, California’s Ohlone Dog Park (billed as the world’s first) opened in 1979, but this recent surge reflects a shift in American attitudes about canines, who are often perceived as members of the family rather than mere pets.

The latest U.S. Census figures indicate that more households have dogs than kids – 43 million compared to 38 million, respectively– and the American Pet Products Association estimates that spending on pets hit at least $55 billion in 2013, a 4.1 percent increase from 2012.

Says Harnick: “It’s becoming like France.” [The rest of the story.] 

I remember going to a party in New York about 35 years ago. They all called me Buck Rogers and Flash Gordon. I said, “You, ma’am, your name and phone number? And you, sir, your phone number? And you, sir?” And they said, “Why are you taking our phone numbers?” I said, “Because the night we land on the moon, you’re going to get called.” I was in London when we did. I called three of them, and when they answered I said, “Stupid son of a bitch,” and hung up.
Ray Bradbury, to Newsweek, Nov 12, 1995. We’re totally going to borrow this page from the Book of Bradbury.