As promised, here is Diana, in her new home.
In lieu of the basement of Albright-Knox Art Gallery (shamefully not on view) she is in a sunny gallery of The Met.
Liz stated last night that the sculpture is where it belongs.
I do agree that now the piece is seen and enjoyed and studied by many each day.
Sadly, though, it's no longer in the provenance of the Middling City.

Here are a few more images from The Shiney Apple.





Both go along with my street images series made there.
One is manmade artifacts on the streets, the other shows Nature burgeoning forth in spite of the urban landscape.

Last night spent a lovely hour or so with old friends in Polly's garden: Polly was there, of course. It was a bon voyage party for Anna, who leaves for grad school in San Diego. Roadtrip.
As I left the party I took Anna by the shoulders and imparted this traveler's blessing imparted upon Yours Truly as I was on one of many cross-country journeys.
Drive fast, take chances.
Anna believed it to be the best advice she'd received all evening.
I do also oftentimes heed the advice of Brucey: Watch out for people with pointy teeth.

Off to document some nuptials.

Driving, chancy Love.

Watching Werner Herzog's (sidebar: I adore this doc-making, serious, somehow still with sense of humour buried down deep German. Does anyone on the earth call Werner schatz. I wonder.) short film in several chapters about the burning Kuwaiti oil fields in 1991.
This is at New Museum on Bowery. Somehow this new joint has escaped the art strategies of Yours Truly - until now.
A nice Jamaican man downstairs didn't hassle me about my bag.
A far far cry from what transpired yesterday at The Whitney.
Where a small lady in the jacket made an executive decision to send me to the check-in centre.
I said What.
This bag is not as large as that bag that you just let in, or that lady's purse over there by the elevator, or that bag. (me pointing)
She was impassive.
I said This is discriminatory, you're making a snap decision (I liked that I tossed that in, somehow it made me internally glad of heart and reminded me of RonE's kooky Snap Judgment public access show whereby individuals rated a movie based solely on its title - I was on the show once, with Pahts) based on the material of this bag (backpack material), and how I'm dressed (shorts).
We had an impasse on both our hands.
I continued to argue, she continued to shriek.
I walked away and went to the desk and asked to speak to the Head of Security.
After about three minutes he appeared.
I said There's a laptop, Leica, passport, wallet in here and you don't want to be responsible for it.
He said I'll lock it in my office.
I said Look, this bag is smaller than several bags already inside. I'm not a member of the Whitney (a nice touch, I thought, honest) but I've been here several times with this very bag - without a hassle. I'll keep it in front of me. Why not watch me and make sure I don't bang into anything (I was on a minor tear). Why not walk with me through the museum and I'll show you bags that are larger than this one.
The man said Enjoy yourself, as he walked along with me towards the front door.
I thought that Yours Truly was being kicked out of the ultra-venerable Whitney.
It took me several moments to realize that YT was not in fact being kicked out but being chaperoned over to the officious ass working the door.
He said She's going in.
I thrust my ticket at her and kept walking.
She was then reprimanded by her boss.
Inside Paul McCarthy, Buckminster Fuller filled YT up with ideas, sopping up creative energy like a starvation victim at an all-you-can-eat sushi event.
Yesterday: Louise Bourgeois at Guggenheim, frickin' Frick action, and oso much more.
This is the Shiney Apple's Restaurant Week and experimentally put stock, faith, future hunger, and instinct into choice of IndoChine for last night's repast.
I shall be back and for that I am certain they are like so glad.
The oil fields of Kuwait burn and burn and it is time to continue the went through the New Museum, part of the Shiney Apple's ever-transformative urbanity.

Urban(e) Love.

Completely, utterly minding my own business I was confronted by Diana.
A phalanx (and when does one really ever get to use that vocab word, properly) of Met guards were blocking off a gallery of Greco-Roman works.
It was a Met spectacle that Yours Truly had truly never seen before. The imploring voices and gestures, yes, of the guards.
But a phalanx.
Never.
So YT, being herself, had to take a gander at the guards blocking, shoulder to shoulder, entrance - about ten of them.
I made an image of them.
Then I looked over their shoulders to see the former Middling City visitor, Diana with her stag.
In the center of the gallery there she charismatically IS, a dark bronze amid a gang of marble figures.
A stand-out.
As I made these images (and You will YT forgive as my card reader is like so on the other side of the state and therefore they cannot be viewed at this present time) another Met man appeared, obviously of a title more long and grave than the guards.
He was in a suit, more creds on his lapel.
He was beseeching that I leave and I said I'm from the Middling City and the Albright-Knox sold this at Sotheby's to you. (sic: a private collector purchased the work and it's on loan to the Met).
You should not have sold it, the man in the nice suit stated.
I then told him that roughly 50% of the MC was up in arms, about the community gathering/shouting match.
I tried to glance and remember his names but didn't have a chance.
Onwards into the Shiney Apple, ever loaded with visuals and stunning quotes like this one, heard in an institute of fine art viewing.
Woman: (unawares in full-on tourist mode, yelling, gesturing like a madwoman)
DOUG COME HERE AND LOOK AT THIS - IT'S FAMOUS.
Doug: (turns around, walks toward madwoman) Mmmmm.

Mmmmm, Love.

One curious image from Northampton.
You can see that NMA also exhibits the white skies of the Middling City.
Looked down the side of this building to see if this was an entrance for men, or a washroom (heading to Canada so am speaking Canadian this fine a.m.).

Enjoyed some front porch coffee action with a bunch of girls and invited men, speaking of such. Strong coffee, some laughter, a few early bird Garden Walkers clutching their maps and meandering by. Lisa and Gina both told tales and Yours Truly suggested that they march right on down to that Story Corp wagon/Airstream if it's still there.
Went on a very micro-Garden Walk with Laura later in the afternoon after a gig in the 'burbs and before viewing one of the nephew's new bands.
Laura believes that every day in the MC in late spring and summer is Garden Walk and to a bit of that I concur.
But it is an amazing feat that tens of thousands converge around the splendors of the combo platter that is gardening - Art plus Nature.

Going to Buckethead later this evening out where the nephew just performed.
And tomorrow it's off to the lovely, crisp, and tasty Shiney Apple for another bite.

Time to speak more Canadian.
Maple-coated Love.