It has been quite muggy here in NYC visiting my mom. I practically fainted in the 101 temperature walking Ivry back from the park today. Ivry was red as a beet, too.
We stayed indoors in the air-conditioned NYC - Greenwich Village apartment and watched cranes pull up woden stairs for the 14 million dollar townhouses across the street from us. Sadly this view afforded a view of the Hudson River, which is now, eternally blocked.
Deb from g's Cottage inspired me to write some of my observations since I've returned. Book writing has occupied much of this blog and no that I am back at Westbeth, the artist building where I grew up, it was a perfect opportunity to reset time to fit the times of 2008 and where I am.
It's hard to come back after 20 years of living in Israel and to see that the place I grew up is surrounded by celebrities and a lot of Europeans (the Euro is very strong) considering that when I left in 1989, nobody wanted to live in Greenwich Village - it was slumsville. Now everybody wants to live here. The building where my mom lives is subsidized by the government and the city council. The votes of the westbeth council is paramount to the recent developments of the recent struggle to keep Westbeth affordable for artists as its initial vision since its inception in 1970.
For me, Westbeth will always be home with its urbanity and profound artist foundation. I said that this morning to my mom's long time neighbor and visual artist Christina Maile. And I said this to my neighbor and friend Mary Bassett who lived down the hallway from us. I was so happy to see the exterminator come to my mom's door. I recognized him right away - just speaking to him made me feel better and not displaced like some refugee. I said he looks timeless - that help put everything into perspective like everything will be ok - for a brief moments, I felt my dad was practicing his art upstairs and my mom was practicing her piano.
Here I am not anonymous and the struggle to feel at home is not as pronounced because everythig is so familiar. The guard lets me in when he says: "Oh, you're Carmen's daughter" and Jacaman, Westbeth's beloved security guard downstairs from Puerto Rico has been here from 1973 - for me that is approximately since I was three years old. He always asks me "where's your brother?" and that makes me feel good because I've come back to my roots. telling him "He's in San Diego' is not as comforting. I wish I could tell him "He'll be back soon" but that is not the case. Everybody misses him around here.
People don't know where Pittsburgh is and I don't feel yet home.
the artist life is my foundation even if I don't practice in every day life. I love this part of New York City and I wish we could live here for at least some parts of the year.
I am at a serious crossroads in my life. Sometimes my day is occupied wondering what my future will bring. I have yet to find my home in Pittsburgh. Starting over is much much harder than I thought.
We're flying back to Pittsburgh later this afternoon. I think I will need come back to Westbeth more often to visit my mom and feel comforted. I aited much too long to come here - almost 7 months.
Will posted some amazing pictures soon.
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Even though I have never been to Greenwich Village I can still relate to many of your impressions about going back to a place that was once (and probably for you is still) home.
Actually, the first time I remember coming across the name Greenwich Village in print was in a Cherry Ames volume; "Cherry Ames, RN - Visiting Nurse" I think it was called. Let's not go into how badly I botched the pronunciation at the time. But I still have visions of it as fourth floor walk-ups, drafty windows and bang on the pipes for heat. It's nice to read that people there really do have AC, and views, and neighborly neighbors.
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