Brooklyn Heights Promenade
I was in Brooklyn for the day, looking for something to do while my daughter was busy with her internship with John Jay College of Criminal Justice, CUNY. We’d be spending the evening together, but until she finished her court visitations around four o’clock, I would be on my own. We quickly shared a coffee together at the plaza in front of Borough Hall, then parted company.
I headed immediately for The New York Transit Museum a few blocks away, anxious to see the museum that chronicled the transit system that created America’s greatest metropolis. When I tried the door, I was irritated to find it securely locked - the sign indicating that the museum opened at ten o’clock. I circled the block, looking for other points of interest in the area, and wandered into an opulent hotel lobby. By the time I found my way back it was not quite ten, so I waited at the entrance. They opened promptly, rather surprised, I thought, to find someone so anxiously waiting to get inside. As a new admirer of subways, I was interested to see the extensive collection of antique subway cars arranged in chronological order. Finding the section from the 1930’s, I sat on the pew-like seats and imagined myself as Walker Evans concealing my camera in the folds of my overcoat while photographing fellow travelers. The Museum Shop was tiny, but they did indeed have the transit map umbrella that I had wanted, my single concession to tourist memorabilia from my trip to New York.
Released back to the city, I set out in search of brownstone buildings now more abundant here than on the island of Manhattan. Brooklyn was much more prosperous than I had imagined. I had thought it might be a little tatty at least, but it was definitely very upscale, clearly unaffordable to me. I quickly deluded myself of the fantasy of moving to Brooklyn, finding cheap accommodations, and settling into a life in proximity to the City I was beginning to love.
In search of views, I wandered toward the East River where there should be a splendid view of the financial district. Sure enough, I soon encountered what is famously known as the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, though I was completely ignorant of it. The view of lower Manhattan was splendid! Elbowed at both sides with fellow tourists, I took a few photographs from the fence, but they were mundane, cliché snapshots. I stepped back a few paces and squared in the wider scene through my viewfinder - much better! The foreground figures recapitulated the erect structures on the far shore, and the black bannister-like fence formed a unifying horizontal element that tied the foreground to the background with graphic harmony. Interesting! ... I snapped the shutter.
I headed immediately for The New York Transit Museum a few blocks away, anxious to see the museum that chronicled the transit system that created America’s greatest metropolis. When I tried the door, I was irritated to find it securely locked - the sign indicating that the museum opened at ten o’clock. I circled the block, looking for other points of interest in the area, and wandered into an opulent hotel lobby. By the time I found my way back it was not quite ten, so I waited at the entrance. They opened promptly, rather surprised, I thought, to find someone so anxiously waiting to get inside. As a new admirer of subways, I was interested to see the extensive collection of antique subway cars arranged in chronological order. Finding the section from the 1930’s, I sat on the pew-like seats and imagined myself as Walker Evans concealing my camera in the folds of my overcoat while photographing fellow travelers. The Museum Shop was tiny, but they did indeed have the transit map umbrella that I had wanted, my single concession to tourist memorabilia from my trip to New York.
Released back to the city, I set out in search of brownstone buildings now more abundant here than on the island of Manhattan. Brooklyn was much more prosperous than I had imagined. I had thought it might be a little tatty at least, but it was definitely very upscale, clearly unaffordable to me. I quickly deluded myself of the fantasy of moving to Brooklyn, finding cheap accommodations, and settling into a life in proximity to the City I was beginning to love.
In search of views, I wandered toward the East River where there should be a splendid view of the financial district. Sure enough, I soon encountered what is famously known as the Brooklyn Heights Promenade, though I was completely ignorant of it. The view of lower Manhattan was splendid! Elbowed at both sides with fellow tourists, I took a few photographs from the fence, but they were mundane, cliché snapshots. I stepped back a few paces and squared in the wider scene through my viewfinder - much better! The foreground figures recapitulated the erect structures on the far shore, and the black bannister-like fence formed a unifying horizontal element that tied the foreground to the background with graphic harmony. Interesting! ... I snapped the shutter.
