From waste comes art. And plenty of photos.

Dismal day. Dreary day. Nineteen degrees and relentlessly pale sky day. Still, I managed to venture outside this past Saturday, perhaps to walk off the remnants of Friday's Guinness and a spicy margarita from Sweet Afton; only the shock of the cold could really snap me out of it. Since apartment hunting has kept me (rather happily) confined to Astoria, I decided to venture down to the Socrates Sculpture Park, which I haven’t visited much since taking summer pilates. Located in the "up-and-coming" industrial zone off Vernon Blvd and Broadway, on this particular day I sought eeriness to fit my off-kilter mood, and this space (combined with the walk that precedes it) certainly can have an eerie effect.

I walked down to 31st Ave, which I usually follow straight to 12th, turning onto Vernon and continuing directly to the park. This time I decided to zig-zag a bit through the streets, looping down to Broadway... 

...eventually finding myself in future high-rise territory past 23rd Street. It's somewhat of a desert around these parts, and excessive scaffolding, netting and boarded off sites combined with the proximity of the East River gave the stench of potential crime scene. I was therefore surprised to learn that the Long Island City High School was located here, in an immense concrete building that I would have taken for some type of warehouse. 

I picked up my pace, continuing down Broadway, then up one avenue to 30th Road, until I came upon the southern entrance of the park.

In the same vein as many of the community gardens throughout New York City, the park, formerly a landfill and illegal dumping ground, was transoformed into a functioning public space by people of the community in 1986. In one sense, it is no different from its surroundings. It's industrial. It's experiemetal and modern. It's a constant work in progress, doubling as an outdoor museum and educational space, and a work shop for emerging sculptors (through the Emerging Artsist Fellowship program). Raw material is strewn about the grounds—wood, iron, steel, much of which is visible behind a fenced off site on the shore of the river. 

Saturday, it was nearly vacant with the unmistakable smell of sewage ocasionally wafting in from the river. The flags at the entrance of the park flapped in the wind, like constant footsteps. A Russian man played ball with his dog, and another man in a hooded jacket ran across the park with a large stick in his hand. The latter induced a wariness that eventually prompted me to leave. (Too many BBC mysteries have heightened my paranoia.) But not before capitalizing on the best interactive feature of the art currently on display. You can walk on it. At least some of it. This alone cleared up my doldrums for the day, and shifted me into a forward looking perspective as I treaded my way down the yellow-brick road into the Bronx horizon. 

Part of "Launch." 

"Assisted Boardwalk." 

This one has been disturbing and intriguing me since I first saw it this summer. It's entitled, "The Persistence of Agony." 

Unfortunately, I couldn't include all the installations at the park in this post. In which case, I suggest you go explore them on your own. Also, stay tuned for future posts; as the weather becomes a bit more forgiving, the park perks up with various activities, including new exhibitions, yoga and pilates on the waterfront, and cinema en plein air.  

Ah, my route. Can't tell what it resembles. Something...industrial? An arrow prompting me to jump in the East River? (Joke. I'm all for immersion, but even I have my limits...)

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