I'll take Manhattan

Getting news of the TOC is like 1844 all over again. No Translatlantic cable laid down yet, so you sort of have to wait for the clipper ships to sail in. I have some interest in seeing who goes where, and I’d like to see my horse do well in the race. But at best you might pick up an odd tweet or something. Official news? Dream on. Maybe if they charged more they might have the resources!

Oh. Right. I forgot myself for a moment. It’s TOC. What was I thinking?

I planned on doing all sorts of debate work over the weekend, and went to NYC instead to see the Steins' collection at the Met. How come I’m not buying works of art for a hundred bucks that people turn around in a few years for the down payment for their house on the Riviera? Amazing stuff. They got in with Matisse and Picasso early on, although Hank was about a dozen years older than PP, who was in his early 20s at the time in question. PP fell out of the womb with a paintbrush in his hand. While plenty of artists demonstrate their talent at a young age, PP was the most prodigious (as in, child prodigy) I have ever seen; stuff he was doing in his teens would make most old masters quit. I don’t know if that’s true of Matisse. In any case, both of them were experimenting like mad, but then again, they experimented like mad from the beginnings of their careers until the end. I don’t think either of them is easy to like, much for the same reasons that historically they were not immediately taken up by the critics. They sort of make you do a little work, and it might take you some time to figure out what the fuss is all about. At the moment I tend to be a little more taken by Hank, but that may just be my personal passing fancy. It doesn’t matter. Both of their reputations are secure despite what I might think of them. Anyhow, the Steins got in on the old ground floor, so to speak. (As did the Cone Sisters, who had a similar exhibit last year or so at the Jewish Museum.) Makes you want to live in Paris and have a lot of money in the good old days. Then again, I wouldn’t mind living in Paris and having a lot of money today. Maybe I could buy some hundred dollar paintings.

Everybody in Manhattan was dressed to the nines for some reason. Granted it was coming on Saturday night, but it’s not as if I haven’t been in the city before on a weekend. When I say people were dressed I don’t just mean they had buffed their tats. They were really putting on the dog (and there’s an expression I haven’t heard in a while). Gowns, hats, little girls in fur, the works.

Also, people were shopping. These were the ones who hadn’t buffed their tats, the tourists on Fifth Avenue. What, exactly, is the appeal of these stores that are in every mall in America? The guy in Hollister’s without a shirt is that big an attraction? I mean, they were lined up for him. But people were carrying bags, too, from every store that, as I say, is everywhere else. Maybe these people were just foreigners, and they don’t have malls in Foreignlandia. I don’t know. Business was booming, though. There was no question about that.

I love roaming around the city. The perfect day is rolling in whenever, seeing some art, and then strolling about until overtaken by starvation, then having a really good meal you can’t get at home. Pure bliss.