The Words Of The Prophets

This year of travel has been strange. And by that, I mean really, really strange. I spent more nights in hotels in 2024 than I have ever spent in any single prior year I've been alive. I took the longest single trip (to Singapore, Cambodia and Malaysia) of my life. And I feel more weary from packing and getting on trains or in cars or in planes and then unpacking at the other end than I have ever felt. That all should make me super, super happy. But somehow, I ended up writing fewer blog posts about travel than I have written since I started this blog 11-1/2 years ago. Go figure.

I blame that whole situation on one thing: business travel. It's changed a normal travel year into a very, very non-traditional travel year. And not for the better. I've been on the road a whole lot but a whole lot of that whole lot hasn't been all for me. Or us. Two one week plus vacations is not enough for an entire year. It's honestly been a bit of a drag. But it's also driven me to change how I gather value from travel. This year, I've taken to squeezing in little experiences that make me feel like I've been traveling in between all the work assignments. It's a way different way of exploring than I ever would have thought of five or ten or even two years ago. And I don't want to do this as a substitute for real travel again.

But it has been a huge part of my 2024 travel narrative. So to close 2024, I'm going to write two posts about how this year has featured a lot of trips that are discontinuous but have reinforced a common theme and which ultimately, have built into something cohesive and coherent, even if these experiences were assembled in a way that I don't want to do again.  But both are part of my travel narrative this year. 

But before I get to all that, a little rant about business travel.

Mary Miss' "Framing Union Square". Union Square (L / N / Q / R / W / 4 / 5 / 6).

I dislike traveling for work. It sounds great (I mean it's free travel, right?) but it's never as fun as it seems like it should be (probably the work thing...). At its worst it can involve early morning breakfasts followed by a full work day with working lunches concluded with dinners with coworkers that last for hours until late into the night. It can be really pretty draining. Way more work than travel. You can probably tell by all the "work"s in this paragraph.

I guess I've been fortunate to travel some, but not a ton, for work over my career. I don't really think I've spent a lot of time on the road for my employers but for sure I've traveled a bit. Over my 30 plus years working I've ended up in hotels in Boston, San Francisco, Dallas, Chicago, Los Angeles, Orlando, Houston, Austin, Jersey, upstate New York, Charlotte, Roanoke (yes...Roanoke), Miami, suburban / rural Maryland (twice), Denver and maybe one or two other spots.

But over the last 15 months or so, I've had a regular travel-for-work gig and it's been to one of my favorite places of all: New York City. When I first took on this assignment, I spent my time in the City doing something resembling what I described two paragraphs ago: going to the office; going back to my hotel (which was really very close to the office); eating dinner (also very close to the office and the hotel); and then repeating until it was time to go home. After a couple of months of doing that I decided I had to do more. I had to accept that I was there for work but I also wanted to maximize the opportunity that I had to be living rent-free in New York two or three days at a time. I had to make my nights something more.

William Wegman's "Stationary Figures". 23 St (F / M) station.

So in January of this year (four months or so into my NYC assignment), I decided to do start exploring. I found izakayas and ramen places. I went to the 9/11 Memorial. I tried out different hotels. I went to a jazz club. I met up with old friends. I went to the opera. I explored Grand Central Terminal. I went to a play. I found different ways to see the city. It's definitely been rewarding for me. I feel like I've got something out of this in addition to my employer getting something out of me. 

I knew my time where I'd be making regular trips to New York was going to end at some point and in about the middle of this year I decided the appropriate time to cut this off would be at the end of 2024. I have to admit that deciding to terminate this assignment was sad. No more free meals at world class restaurants. No more hotel points or Amtrak points. No more opportunities to explore my favorite city for (almost) free. But it had to be done. 

I decided a needed a personal send-off. And I decided that send-off should be art focused. Do you know how many art museums there are in New York City? Me either. And it really didn't matter that much because my plan wasn't to explore art at the MoMA or the Met or the Guggenheim or the Frick or the Whitney or anywhere else that had the word museum in it. My plan was to go see some art for free. Or maybe an admission fee of $2.90 at a time. To do that, I headed underground. 

Leo Villareal's "Hive". Bleecker Street (6) and Broadway-Lafayette St (B / D/ F / M) Station.

Did you know that one of the best collections of art in New York City is in the Subway? Yes, the thing that has trains that take New Yorkers all over the City. The Metropolitan Transit Authority (MTA) has been purchasing and commissioning permanent and temporary works of art by emerging, famous and non-famous artists for decades. They have amassed quite a collection. Some of their art sponsorships are ephemeral (for posters that fill unused advertising space on Subway cars) but there is a lot that is not. And a lot of their collection is pretty world-class.

Now for sure, viewing art in the Subway is way different than doing it in an art museum. You can decide to roam around the Subway system randomly and just look at what you like as I sometimes do in new museums that I visit, but the collection is pretty de-centralized and, in most cases, you'll have to get on a train to go find the next piece. And it might not be something you appreciate. 

Their collection also sometimes takes some finding. They are not all like William Wegman's "Stationary Figures" ("Station"ary...get it?), which I found myself staring at when my F train stopped at 23rd Street station one night on the way back from dinner in the first half of this year.

Fortunately for the wannabe Subway art appreciator, there's a guide to art on the MTA's website and it's organized by borough. So for this last not-a-resident-but-so-in-love-with-New-York work/tourist quest, I decided to organize at least one night per trip starting in August around going to see some art, even if it was just one piece. If I could do it as part of a trip to dinner or some other spot in the City I wanted to see, then I'd do that. If not, maybe I'd just have to make a special trip. If it had to be a special trip, theoretically it's a $2.90 admission fee (the price of a ride on the Subway), assuming I can go see the piece I wanted to see and come back without exiting the system. Do you know how much it costs to get into the MoMA or the Met? $30. $2.90 is a bargain.

Ann Schaumberger's "Urban Oasis". 5 Av / 59 St (N / R / W) Station.

My intentional visits to the MTA's fantastic art collection started on a Tuesday night in August with a trip on the Q Train to legendary hot dog stand Papaya King on the Upper East Side (or UES to New Yorkers). Two hot dogs with mustard and 'kraut and a papaya drink if you must know.

The 86 Street Q-Train-only station less than two blocks from Papaya King houses Chuck Close's 2017 installation "Subway Portraits". That was my first quest. To see that piece. It's a series of large scale portraits intending to depict regular New Yorkers you might encounter on the Subway. That is if you consider Philip Glass, Lou Reed and Close himself to be regular New Yorkers. The works are huge, spanning from almost the floor of the station to almost the ceiling. And they are incredibly impressive. If these things were on display at the MoMA or somewhere else, people would be standing and gazing at these things in wonder rather than just hurrying past when I stopped for a while before heading to Papaya King. 

Like many works of art within the MTA system, "Subway Portraits" are executed in super durable materials. Mosaics of glass and ceramic or just straight up ceramic tile. This has to be one of the most hostile environments that someone can intentionally decide to place art and so it makes sense that the choice of medium be something that can withstand a lot of abuse. And I don't mean intentional. There's just a lot of stuff that happens in the Subway that is pretty down and dirty. Beautiful things need to be able to protect themselves. 

Close up of three "Subway Portraits". Eye. Eye. Nose/moustache.

On my way back from 86th Street, I stopped by the 5th Avenue/59th Street Station on the east edge of Central Park to see Ann Schaumberger's "Urban Oasis", her de-centralized tribute to the animals at the Central Park Zoo. I love animals (just not zoos) and some of those in "Urban Oasis" hit a chord big time, including the monkeys (I was born in the Year of the Monkey), the penguins and the macaws. 

I feel the representation within Schaumberger's work is definitely different from "Subway Portraits". And by that I mean less high art (if that's even a term and if it is, I know I'm being a snob). I can't see the monkeys and the penguins and the macaws on the edge of Central Park being on display in some museum in the City. And that's totally OK. On some level, these works are supposed to enliven commutes and provide relief from what is potentially a stressful rat race in America's largest city. They don't all need to be worthy of hanging in the MoMA or the Met.

I headed back to my hotel with some satisfaction that I had started something travel related that could be pretty special and I was doing it for almost free.

Over September and October and November, I continued to explore. Wegman's Wiemaraners on the way to dinner when I was staying at the Hyatt House on 28th Street. Stumbling across Tom Otterness' little figures who seemed to be everywhere in the "Life Underground" installation at the 14 St Station. A special trip to Ann Hamilton's transcription of the United States Declaration of Independence and the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights in her "CHORUS" work at the newly constructed WTC / Cortlandt Station. Hamilton's work is inspiring and uplifting, as flawed as the Declaration of Independence might be in its attitude towards the "all men" who are "created equal". It was calming and reassuring on an early November night.

Otterness' whimsical little men and women and rats and crocodiles and other sorts of bronze figures are an amusing distraction when you are not in a hurry to catch your Subway train on the way home or to work or wherever else you are headed. I love the image of these little mini-men taking care of business (including toting around giant Subway tokens) while us full size humans are passing them almost without a thought and largely unaware.

Tom Otterness' "Life Underground".  14 St (A / C / E / L) Station.

As I explored, I started to notice something as I was going from one of these installations to another, roaming around stations (some of these things are huge!!!) trying to find the latest work on my list. And that is that these things are EVERYWHERE. I started to notice more art installations that I wasn't looking for than I was looking for. In some stations (yes, Union Square and Times Square-42 St, I'm looking at you), there is more to see around every corner. Not just one piece of artwork, but multiple works in a single station. Everywhere. I'm telling you.

I visited stations all over Midtown on my way to work or dinner or somewhere else and bumped into works of art when I got to platforms or when I entered stations or when I got where I was going. Roots and plants and pipes with words of wisdom written on them near Bryant Park. Art Deco-like women performing theater and dance on the way to Lincoln Center. Recessed little square boxes in the underground walls at Times Square. And of course, I saw them while I was riding the Subway itself, fleeting glimpses of mosaics or glass seen through the open train doors during a brief stop at a station or even briefer looks when viewed from an express train that has no intent of stopping at some stations.

Some provided unexpected surprises and got a smile or two. During a stop at 23 St on the R or W (can't remember which), I looked up from my phone or whatever else I was paying attention to and saw a series of hats of all types rendered in tiles on the walls. And yes, when someone waiting for the train was standing in front of one at just the right height, it looked like they were wearing the hat behind them. I get it. Funny. Who wears a top hat any more?

Here's the other thing I noticed: there were other people noticing too. I was not the only one stopping and looking and studying and taking pictures. These things work. They ARE appreciated by people moving through this system, even if it looks like most are just hustling by because that's exactly what they are doing.  

Had to stop and look on my way to the 42nd Street Shuttle. 

It's now December 2024 and I just finished my last three nights in New York for this year. That brings me to a total of 44 nights in the City in the past 12 months. What a ride! Or more accurately a stay, I guess. That's probably not going to happen again but who knows. 

I didn't deliberately visit any Subway art on this last trip despite having a couple of spots left on my list. My off hours in December were spent with friends who had made the trip up to NYC with me to go explore the City in all its pre-Christmas glory while I slaved at work. And because I knew that's what December held, I knew when I visited in November that would likely be my last underground art time in 2024.  

So I had to do something special.

Roy Lichtenstein's "Times Square Mural". Times Sq-42 St (1 / 2 / 3 / 7 / N / Q / R / W / S) Station.

One of my favorite artists of all time is Roy Lichtenstein. Put him up there for me with Warhol, Jasper Johns, Gerhard Richter, J. M. W. Turner, Van Gogh, Mondrian, Magritte and likely too many others that I can't think of right now. I am always drawn to Lichtenstein's renditions of ordinary objects, famous works of art and works that look like they are torn from a comic strip in the style of those same American comic strips. It seems like most of the times when I see Lichtenstein's works in museums, they are among my favorites and I usually end up with a few pics of something by Roy on my phone.

And yes, there's a Lichtenstein in the Subway. Like an original work commissioned especially for the New York City underground train system. It's called "Times Square Mural" and it's at the Times Sq-42 St station (which is admittedly enormous) in the middle of a transit area that seems to be constantly flowing with commuters and tourists and art aficionados passing from the street to the Subway or one line to another or the Subway to the street. It's a futuristic Lichtenstein-yellow Subway car pulling up to the platform at 42nd Street and it's just glorious. And it's all yours to see for the low, low price of $2.90. What a bargain.

I found this work on my last underground art pilgrimage. I went there deliberately and specially to see it. I wasn't passing to or from Times Square or anywhere else. I rode the Subway specifically to see this piece and lay eyes on it for myself. It was well worth the price of admission.

If you decide to ever go seek out some of the works in the MTA's permanent collection, I am sure you will find something that resonates with you. I am also sure that you will find some other kinds of art down in the Subway while you go looking. And I don't mean more stuff hanging on the walls or little bronze men. By that I mean you'll likely find someone, somewhere performing some music. Rock, folk, classical, rap, whatever. I did when I went to see the "Times Square Mural" and it elevated that experience to something greater than I could have possibly imagined.

It was opera. 

Yes, standing in front of Roy's glorious mural when I visited on a Wednesday night, there was a young tenor (he's on the left in the pic below) standing in front of an "Opera Collective" sign with a collection bucket nearby singing the most gorgeous vocal parts to some sort of classical music coming out of the boombox next to him. It was inspiring and uplifting and impressive and spectacular. And it made my night as the perfect accompaniment to that magnificent yellow train pulling into some imagined 42nd Street station.

This aria emphasized to me the point of getting out there. Go. Explore. Find. Be curious. Adventure. Seek out something that you love or may love or will love. And every so often, you'll find it. And sometimes, it will be amazing and incredible and even better than you ever thought it (whatever it is) could be. Travel...I'm telling you...