Watercolor in the Works
It’s just a late November tree on a street corner in Queens, NY, a few blocks from my house. Though it will be completely leafless imminently, it was still hanging on to its remaining leaves as of two days ago. I was on my way to work but had to stop and take of picture of it. My plan is to do a watercolor 
I think what inspires me here is that even though the leaves are sparse, they are still gorgeous and vibrantly colored. That’s one of the many intriguing occurrences of autumn – trees entering a stage of winter slumber, but going out with dazzling brilliance right up until the very last minute, until the final leaf has fallen to the ground. Autumn is sometimes misconstrued as a time of shriveling and withering, but it’s not. The transition from autumn to winter is vigorous, active, and dynamic. Nothing moribund about it at all.
So here’s the deal; I have Alizarin Crimson, Permanent Rose, Cadmium Yellow, Sap Green, Yellow Ochre, Burnt Sienna, and a few others. What I’m not sure about is how to approach this. Should I sketch it first then do colored details, block it in, diagram it, or just wing it from the get-go and let loose and see what happens? I welcome all suggestions!
The Cloisters in Bloom
I just spent a lovely afternoon at The Cloisters with my good friend Fred Hatt. It was a great day of looking at art, taking pictures and enjoying the woodland sanctuary found in the northernmost section of Manhattan island.
For those of you who are gardeners, like me, you know how even the most well-tended plants become ratty and worn looking toward the end of the summer and lose some of their earlier vitality and vigor. Well the gardening team at the Cloisters must know all the horticultural secrets because their perennials, herbs, and flowering shrubs are still looking pretty damn good in mid-August.
If it’s any shade of purple, I will photograph it. My favorite color! Deep purple, light purple, lavender or violet, bring it on
I love these maidenhair ferns. They look wonderful in pots throughout the garden cafe:
This was my favorite plant of the day. It’s called Fuller’s Teasel. I actually like the thorny stems and prickly “flowers”. This plant is an unapologetic individualist. It knows who it is and proclaims it with confidence. Rock on Teasel!
By the way, I did take pictures of the medieval artwork at The Cloisters – yes, they have ART there too! – but those will come in future posts. Until then, this squirrel critter says, “Thank you for visiting Museworthy. Now give me a nut!”.
Water’s Edge
Some visitors on the north shore of Queens this afternoon. It’s always nice when these swan pairs stop by
I love the reflections in this one:
My heart goes out to the people of Joplin, Missouri and all the surrounding areas that were ravaged by the tornadoes. I saw the pictures on TV and the devastation is absolutely unreal. Those folks are terribly traumatized and I feel for them. Between the missing loved ones and the loss of homes, property, I hope they find the strength to cope and recover from an ordeal of such magnitude. I had my own experience with a tornado last September, but it hardly compares to what’s happened in the American south and midwest in recent weeks.
Mellow Friday and Garden Plans
Heyyyy everybody! Are you all in TGIF mode? I have the day off today which is good because I can rest my weary artist’s model’s spine. I predict some yoga will take place at some point this afternoon. I need it badly! My back is all out of alignment. Some downward-facing dog will work wonders I’m sure.
I don’t have much else to share at the moment except that I’m trying to make spring gardening plans. I feel the urge to do something different this season although I don’t know what exactly. It’s not like I have five acres of land to work with. I wish! But on the other hand, having limited space forces you to be more creative. Maybe I’ll plant different vegetables and rearrange my containers. My herb section got really out of control last year. Thyme was the culprit. I’m thinking of a small berry patch of blueberries, raspberries, and strawberries. I’ve had great success with strawberries in the past. I know the birds get to them and have a feast, but if they can just save me enough to have with my cereal perhaps we can share 
This redheaded model is ready for spring, holding a lovely vase of daffodils in Spring Flowers by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema:
Snow – The Good, The Bad, The Artistic
I was taking it all in stride. I really was. This twice-weekly snowstorm pattern that has developed this winter. But now I suspect I’m suffering from “snow fatigue”. Many New Yorkers are I think. The weather forecast predicts 6 – 12 inches of snow and we’re like, “MORE snow???? Not again!!!” 
But like anything else, winter snow has its good and bad qualities and produces a variety of experiences and reactions. Allow me to share some of my personal snow-related anecdotes over the past few days.
Nice snow anecdote number 1: I looked out my bedroom window the morning after snow fell overnight. It was, in a word, beautiful. Pure white, totally fresh, fluffy, powdery, lightweight, accumulated along branches and twigs and everywhere. I watched a little bird as it attempted to alight on a snow-covered twig. It flitted around, trying to find the perching surface. Eventually it knocked off the snow and found its footing. It chirps. It’s happy. It’s a happy bird in spite of the snow inconvenience. It goes about its regular business of looking for food, surviving, just being a backyard bird in Queens. Birds rock.
Bad snow anecdote number 1: I discovered that a ton of accumulated snow slid off my roof like an avalanche and crashed to the ground, its weight breaking off four feet of the rain gutter AND a piece of roof slate in the process. The remaining broken and bent remnant of gutter sticks out from the house at a fucked-up looking 90% angle. Ugly and awful. Spring home repair, and it’s accompanying nuisance and costs, awaits. Oh joy.
Snow Effect With Setting Sun, 1875, by Claude Monet:
Nice snow anecdote number 2: Amazing icicles along the windowpanes! They put on quite a dazzling show with their crystal-like clarity and shape formations. A winter exclusive. Take that, summer!
Bad snow anecdote number 2: One word – SHOVELING
Morning Sunlight on the Snow, Eragny-Sur-Epte, Camille Pissarro, 1895:
Nice snow anecdote number 3: I enjoy a fun afternoon taking pictures of children sledding in the park.
Bad snow anecdote number 3: Cancelled art modeling jobs 
A Morning Snow, by George Bellows:
The Snow Storm by Edna St. Vincent Millay
No hawk hangs over in this air:
The urgent snow is everywhere.
The wing adroiter than a sail
Must lean away from such a gale,
Abandoning its straight intent,
Or else expose tough ligament
And tender flesh to what before
Meant dampened feathers, nothing more.
Forceless upon our backs there fall
Infrequent flakes hexagonal,
Devised in many a curious style
To charm our safety for a while,
Where close to earth like mice we go
Under the horizontal snow.
Snowpocalypse
Ok, with a show of hands, who’s snowed in? :raises hand: It was a doozy, wasn’t it? I am super lucky in that I don’t have to work today, which means I don’t have to make the difficult trek into Manhattan. Instead, I can stay holed up in my house in Queens, toasty, cozy, and warm
Georgia O’Keeffe, Bare Tree Trunks With Snow, 1946:
Since this morning, I have seen neither hide nor hair of my two cats (they’re ferals) and I’m worried. I know what you’re all thinking – don’t worry about cats. They’re smart, resourceful, and blessed with exceptional survival skills. Yet even though I”m aware of all that, I still worry. I was outside earlier shoveling out little paths, calling out “Prince? Jackson? Come on out babies!”. But no sign of them yet. The issue with this blizzard is the intense drift. The blustery wind is blowing wildly and forming huge dunes of snow. But a cat can’t get buried, right? Is that even possible? They know to seek higher ground, I hope. Where are my little boys? What if they’re trapped!! 
This dove has been chillin’ out on the telephone wire behind my house. Maybe he knows where Prince and Jackson are? Speak bird!
I have to pull myself out of this missing cat panic mode. How about “Music Monday”? We’re all familiar with Antonio Vivaldi’s famous composition “The Four Seasons”. The “Spring” section, or “La Primavera”, is probably the most recognizable. But the “Winter” section is wonderful too. So for the snowpocalypse of 2010, here’s Vivaldi’s “L’inverno”, Concerto for Violin and Strings in F minor. WINTER has officially arrived . . .
All-Nighter
Lunar eclipse, 2:45 AM, seen from Queens, NY. My photo:
She was a beauty. To my readers, with love
Happy Solstice everyone . . .
Music At 400
Before I get to “Music Monday”, I want to ask if anyone happened to watch “Great Migrations” on the National Geographic channel last night? And if so, were you as blown away by it as I was? Oh man. It was absolutely incredible. I’m a nature show geek anyway, but this one was so stunning, so moving and utterly fascinating I was thinking about it all day at work today. Couldn’t get it out of my mind -the monarch butterflies, the sperm whales, and those crabs! Wow. Just wow. The most powerful and dramatic segment, I thought, was the wildebeests crossing the river. For those of you who missed it, you can check it out at the NatGeo website.
It turns out that this is Museworthy’s 400th post! Cool. I didn’t even notice it until recently, so I haven’t planned any special commemoration. I think just the fact that I have the capacity to babble on and on and on for 400 blog posts speaks for itself 
So rather than try to be clever or cute, I’m just going to post a music-themed painting I like and accompany it with an audio file of music for which I have a deep fondness.
This is Arcadia by American artist Henry Siddons Mowbray. Lovely ladies, lovely instruments, and lovely composition. Loveliness all around!
And this, my friends, is possibly the most beautiful piece of symphonic music ever composed in my opinion. It is the luscious, poignant, exquisitely-crafted third movement of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, “Adagio Molto E Cantible”. It swirls and rises, gets elegantly tangled and untangled. It has always, to me, sounded like love. It’s 16 minutes long, but I hope you all give it a listen. Here’s to 400 blog posts! :pops champagne:
Just Another Natural Disaster
I’m relieved to announce that I am writing this blog post from my laptop, in my home, with the lights on, and the coffee-maker brewing. Yes my friends, I have power!! Woo hoo!! I’m back online and back in civilization. At least the house smells nice and fragrant from all the scented candles I had to burn. Eucalyptus . . . mmm.
Our fair city is nowhere near fully recovered, though. The tornadoes hammered us hard. Then again, we are urban dwellers and not accustomed to tornadoes at all. Muggings, carjackings, burglaries yes. But not tornadoes!
We’ll have no Music Monday for today so I can share the tornado encounter with all of you. The funny thing is that I was actually supposed to be working that day, holed up in a studio in the New York Academy of Art. But I was informed the day before that the class had been cancelled. I had an unexpected day off, so purely by chance, I was home when the tornado came. There I was, sitting at my kitchen table, when all of a sudden an eerie green cast fell over the street. Everything looked green, like you were looking through a green filter. I figured it was just an approaching rainstorm. But then came the wind. Not your everyday, garden-variety wind. I mean WIND. Violent gusts of aggressive, turbulent, intense, spinning wind. A really, really badass wind. I thought, “Whoa, what’s going on?!”. Next thing I knew, garbage cans and flowerpots are flying down the street, doormats are blowing up in the air, branches are snapping off trees and crashing to the ground, and soon there was no visibility at all. As I ran around my house closing windows, I heard a cracking sound which was absolutely ear-shattering. What the hell was that???? I was really scared.
It turned out that the source of that cracking was directly across the street from me, at my neighbor’s house. Here it is:
Is that insane, or what? Poor Barbara and Gary. At least 50 people have taken pictures of this fallen tree. It’s bizarre the way it ripped out. Where are the roots? Once the tornado passed, which lasted only about a minute and a half at the most, I opened my front door and started screaming, “Oh my god!!!”. I ran over there because I knew they were home. Thankfully no one was hurt. Freaked out, but not hurt.
Here are a few more post-tornado pictures I took. These are all within a five block radius of my house.
Tornadoes in the boroughs of New York City. Now we’ve seen it all, kids! And it’s been terrifically documented. Check out these reader photos from the NY Times. And if you want to watch two guys in Brooklyn going berserk over the tornado, check out this YouTube video. Despite all the “dudes!” and “holy shits!”, they captured some pretty cool footage.
Honeysuckle on the Hudson
So what is everybody doing on this holiday weekend? Enjoying family, friends, and Mother Earth perhaps? That’s what I’ve been doing so far, all within the boundaries of good ol’ NYC. We’ve got everything here, folks, and “everything” even includes a medieval garden of the highest horticultural standards.
My family and I spent Saturday afternoon at The Cloisters, the uptown branch of the Metropolitan Museum that houses the museum’s impressive medieval art collection. Located in Fort Tryon Park, the Cloisters overlooks the Hudson River. This was the second time in less than a year we’ve all gone up there. I posted last summer about a Cloisters family day. Here’s a picture of one of the many stunning views from the Cloisters’ balcony. I took it earlier in the day when the skies were still overcast. That’s the George Washington Bridge, and that land is New Joy-zee . . . ahem . . . I mean New Jersey 
This weekend the Cloisters is holding events and fun activities for the children, and my niece Olivia enjoyed exploring the castle atmosphere and, most of all, the gardens. Here she is smelling a pretty pink carnation:
The Cloisters gardens are carefully designed and landscaped to replicate an authentic medieval garden, right down to every botanical selection. So you have plants that were prized for their medicinal uses, fragrance, cooking and magical symbolism.
Check out that beautiful climbing yellow honeysuckle on the right:
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Gorgeous pink roses:
Sunny beds around the border, quince trees providing shade in the center:
Getting a lift to explore the fountain:
Everyone stopped to enjoy these still-young citrus trees. How can you resist them? They are charming and colorful and so cute!
Herbs are abundant in the Cloisters gardens. For centuries, those plants have been valued for their therapeutic, healing properties. This is Valerian:
Comfrey:
Chives:
Stroll, kneel, and sniff. That’s how you explore an aromatic garden with delicate plants. There’s that honeysuckle again:
I just had to take a picture of these branches of the quince tree:
Something called a Hart’s Tongue Fern. I don’t know anything about it, but I want one for my garden! Great for shady spots, and nice shiny green leaves:
Peering in from behind the ivy:
A nice spot for quiet reflection:
Enjoy the rest of the weekend my dear friends! Love, peace, and happiness to you all. See you soon
Shadow Dancing
I worked a double at the National Academy today, a booking that’s practically a staple in my art modeling schedule. “Saturdays at the National” as I like to call it. Morning painting class from 9 – 12, then afternoon painting class from 1-4. The one hour break between 12 and 1 is of course for lunch and, weather permitting, a casual walk on Fifth Avenue and in Central Park. Today, the weather permitted.
The midday sun was high and bright and direct. Unimpeded by clouds, it had free reign over the Upper East Side, casting shadows through the trees, between buildings, down onto the streets and all over Central Park. I took pictures of the marvelous patterns and they could be found literally everywhere. It was a shadow bonanza! And it reminded me that nature truly is the greatest artist.
So here are some of my shots. In this one, the dappled shadows make the pavement’s flat surface appear like cobblestone:
I love this one. Just by chance, those stretching runners stepped into the light spot of this shadow under the tree at the very second I snapped the picture:
Big, big shadow on the facade of the Guggenheim. Anything to improve the look of that building!
The steps leading into Central Park. Such a pretty pattern:
An amazing tree shadow on the path along the reservoir:
The resplendent source of all this shadow-making, the artiste herself – the blazing sun above Fifth Avenue:
In the afternoon class, I showed Dan Gheno my shadow pictures. He really liked them which meant a lot to me. When we got to this one, he said “That’s your self-portrait!”. Probably the quickest self-portrait ever produced, yes I took a picture of my own shadow. So here it is, an artistic masterpiece! I call it “Self-Portrait in Shadow”, by Claudia Hajian
Late November
I’ve concluded that autumn is the best time of year for nature photography. Either that, or I simply had a very good day in terms of inspiration, stimulation, and visual perception. My Sunday stroll through my local park produced some pretty decent photos, and I found myself genuinely excited and enthusiastic over the subject matter I encountered. I should mention, however, that “excitement” for me translates into dying leaves, hollowed-out, decaying tree trunks, moss, bark, and depleted branches. I confess that I love that stuff. Maybe I’m weird, but to me there’s something extraordinarily beautiful about the end-of-life cycle in nature. Things shriveling up, drying out, breaking apart. I look at such sights, and I don’t see it as disintegration. I see it as teeming with life, perhaps because these organic forms are undergoing a transformative stage, which is characteristically active and vital. Reconfiguring. Adapting. That is the essence of life.
If any of these photos strikes your fancy, please click and enlarge, as it makes all the difference. Much more detailed and vivid. Besides, I had my digital-macro setting on so you must take advantage of it!
Equally majestic with or without leaves, this is the most kick-ass tree in the park:
These seed pods are everywhere, but I don’t know which trees produce them:
Truffles anyone?
I LOVE decaying tree stumps. Love them! They’re like sculpture to me. The more decaying the better:
This little girl was piling leaves and branches on this fallen tree limb:
I think moss is one of the most awesome things on the planet. Look at this lush carpet, bringing bright green beauty to an otherwise drab dirt pile:
These two little girls were playing hide-and-seek with their father. So cute:
Our softball field, officially on hiatus for the winter. Perched in the chain link fence behind home plate, this leaf will watch over it until spring:
And last but not least, my affectionate tribute to my dear friend Fred Hatt, who recently published an exquisite, impassioned, life-affirming blog post about weeds. If you haven’t seen it, you must!
Here’s my photographic capture of weeds. I think Fred’s are a little better!
Summer at the Cloisters
Helloo, helloooooo!! I’m back from my birthday blogging break. Well, I’m one year older and boy does it feel dramatically different! Just kidding
I celebrated my birthday with my dear family who thoughtfully arranged for a summer evening gathering at The Cloisters, one of New York City’s most treasured and unique cultural institutions. The Cloisters is a branch of the Metropolitan Museum and houses an extensive collection of 12th through 15th century European medieval art. Visiting the Cloisters is like experiencing a time travel walk through the Middle Ages. Now if that sounds like something gloomy and oppressive, believe me it isn’t. On the contrary. It’s a magnificently meditative and spiritual experience, not to mention a curatorial grand slam for the Met. Among some of the collection’s highlights are the Dutch unicorn tapestries, which have to be seen to be believed, and the Romanesque altar cross, acquired under the Met Museum’s famed former curator Thomas Hoving. Although the art at the Cloisters is all religious in nature, you don’t have to be a devout Catholic (which I’m not) to appreciate the profound artistic beauty of the Cloisters. It is an exceptional place. One of my favorite spots in the city. I took a lot of pictures of the grounds.
The curving cobblestone pathway leading up to the Cloisters:
The Metropolitan Museum is located on Fifth Avenue and 82nd Street, but the Cloisters are way, way uptown in lovely Fort Tryon Park, on a 67 acre raised ridge of protected land overlooking the Hudson River. Fort Tryon Park has some of the best views of the river, the George Washington Bridge, and the New Jersey Palisades. It’s hard to describe in words the lush quietude and unusual terrain of Fort Tryon Park. Majestic tall trees, exposed igneous rocks slicing down the west end of Manhattan island, dense woodland, vines and shrubbery growing wildly out of every crevice, and a long stretch of park grounds for picnicking, reading, and contemplation. Best of all, the park is over a hundred blocks away from the chaos, noise, and commotion of midtown Manhattan.
The sun setting over the Hudson River, streaming into Fort Tryon Park, cutting across the top of the Cloisters:
I love the stony pathway of Fort Tryon Park. Here are a few shots:
Fort Tryon Park’s charming restaurant, The New Leaf Cafe, where we had my birthday dinner. Just a hop, skip, and a jump from the Cloisters, the New Leaf was formerly a stables, now converted into a wonderful dining spot in the heart of the park. It boasts an outdoor patio and fabulous jazz combo on Friday nights:
And last but not least, my niece Olivia, who considered her iPod a much more interesting diversion than anything to do with her Aunt Claudia’s birthday! Medieval art collection? What’s that? Ah, to be six years old again
Cat in a Box
You have not truly lived until you have witnessed a cat in a box. If you haven’t, then you are missing out on one of life’s most profound experiences. Problems at work? Look at a cat in a box. Marital discord? Look at a cat in a box. Named as a defendant in a multi-million dollar lawsuit? Ah, forget it. Just look at a cat in box
This is the secret to life right here. My boy Monty, IN A BOX!
His BFF, known as Punk, IN A BOX!
My blogging friend and fellow artist’s model Waverly made the wise suggestion recently that I publish a cat post to lift my spirits out from the evil beast. I told her I would follow her advice and with a “surprise”. So here it is. When Punk showed up out of nowhere last year, I assumed she was a male but with no actual proof. It turns out she is a female, and has graced my garden with two precious creatures. Congratulate me everyone. I’m a grandmother!!!
Here are Punk’s twin babies, IN A BOX!!!!!!
Monty is NOT the father. The father is some strange roaming male who was harassing Punk for a couple of days and has never been seen again since knocking her up. Typical male! Only cares about sex
Punk and one of her troublemakers hanging out by the hydrangea bushes:
I’ve already spoken to my local vet. They told me that they do spay feral females and that I can bring Punk in as soon as the kittens are weaned. She lets me pick her up without too much resistance, so I’ll be able to place her in a box – um, “carrier”.
Monty again, ON TOP OF a box. He broke it from doing this. It collapsed right under him after I took this picture:
If you’re wondering what came in that box, it was something beautiful for my garden. Here he is:
Because I’m totally obsessed with this, here’s Monty one more time, IN A BOX!!!!!!
I don’t know what I would do during these difficult weeks without the wonders of nature and animals. They provide immeasurable joys and smiles. You were right Waverly, thank you.
My hydrangea bushes in their blooming glory:
Rhapsody in White
Darling readers, I have inflicted my “beast” troubles on you enough I think. (For those of you new to Museworthy, “beast” is my code word for depression). I bragged recently about having beaten him off for ten consecutive months. No small feat for anyone who’s acquainted with their own beast. I was so proud of myself. But friends, I have been keeping a secret from all of you, and hiding deftly behind my blogging. About two weeks ago, the beast returned, snarling, menacing, with fists raised, ready to challenge me to yet another epic battle. This time, sadly, he won It’s especially disheartening because I was feeling so good. I guess a relapse is what I deserve after blowing my own horn. Now I’m down for the count, and it feels pretty awful.
But I’m not going to dwell on my depression because it’s, well, depressing! Instead, I’m going to wallow in white, and use this opportunity to post some pictures I took of the dogwood tree in my backyard, in spectacular full bloom. I hope you enjoy them.
Taken from the upstairs of my house, this view is looking west, across my neighbors’ yards. The dogwood needs a pruning, as you can see. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I’m weird like that. I just want her to thrive, flourish, and spread her limbs. Grow, baby, grow!
The white theme continues with the one and only Kate! The feral cat diva herself. The princess of Bayside, Queens. After being MIA for weeks, she finally decided to grace me with her almighty presence, stroll on over to the south side of the street, and pay me a visit. Nice to see you my adorable old friend! Right after I snapped these pictures, she hissed at me for no apparent reason. Bitch.
I love this cat’s markings. Her white is as bright as the dogwood blossoms.
How about some art? This beautiful white painting is from Impressionist artist Eva Gonzales. Originally a student and model of Edouard Manet, Eva became a successful artist in her own right. Her career would likely have reached even greater heights had her life not been tragically cut short when she died during childbirth at the age of 34. Year 1876, this is Morning Awakening:
From the American artist Abbott Handerson Thayer, this is Angel, circa 1889. I sure could use one of these watching over me right now. Thayer, interestingly, suffered from severe bipolar disorder:
Since I’m doing white, and I’m a fanatical Beatles fan, I might as well post the cover of the White Album:
My very, very favorite Beatles song of all time is from the White Album. So because I’m trying to cope with this episode – and it’s a tough one this time – I’m treating myself to that very song. Why not? Consider it my own personal Prozac (which I don’t take, by the way). So please join me in listening to John Lennon’s mini-masterpiece, the exquisite and uniquely sensitive “Dear Prudence”. And, as always, thanks for reading. Love you all
Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It’s beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence won’t you come out to play
Dear Prudence open up your eyes
Dear Prudence see the sunny skies
The wind is low the birds will sing
That you are part of everything
Dear Prudence won’t you open up your eyes?
Look around round
Look around round round
Look around
Dear Prudence let me see you smile
Dear Prudence like a little child
The clouds will be a daisy chain
So let me see you smile again
Dear Prudence won’t you let me see you smile?
Dear Prudence, won’t you come out to play
Dear Prudence, greet the brand new day
The sun is up, the sky is blue
It’s beautiful and so are you
Dear Prudence won’t you come out to play
