by George Bellows, from the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.
New York is a city of the future. But New York is also a city with huge tracts of the past left undisturbed. Most often you see the past, but if you listen carefully, you can hear it too. It sounds like this:
- The clip clop of hooves on the pavement from the carriages circling Central Park.
- The sound of church bells in the early morning ringing through streets muffled by a covering of snow.
- The cry of a hawk as it hunts pigeons in the air over a crowded street in midtown
- The hush of the reading room in the public library, broken only by coughs, the whisper of turning pages, and the sound of pens and pencils scratching on paper.
- The wind in the trees in Central Park.
- The pipe organ and choir of St. Patrick’s Cathedral.
I read that God left little love notes scattered here an there, the grace of a deer, the twinkle of a star, freedom of bird in flight, and the delicacy of a flower. These are the softer side of this amazing city.
Grandma
Beautiful
The fog horns from tug boats. The lapping of oars from rowing practice on the upper Harlem River. Dogs barking.
Billy Fields, wonderful examples.
What if you could find sounds made long ago, rummaging through a rag and bone shop, you discover the voice of Margaret Sanger lost in a dusty dark corner.
Sounds like an art piece to me.