Work in progress (a glimpse)
Acrylic on canvas
14” x 18”
It was both weekend and evening. I should’ve known. Living in New York this is not a rarity. Weekends and nights are prime times for Metropolitan Transit Authority crews to reverse decay to the oldest and busiest underground public transit system in the world. No local trains. I knew what that meant: “Take the express. Bypass your station. Backtrack with the local in opposite direction.” That’s how it goes. I squeezed myself into the already packed N-train. The closing doors assured me that all of me was in. I turned around facing the doors. A perfect opportunity to press my phone against its window pane. I started taking photos—the delay’s silver lining. Not the first time I’ve done that. With the camera in live mode, I knew I’d harvest at least one good frame, if not a few.
I knew I’d capture the inspiration for my next painting in the series ‘Track Work.’ In this new series I explore New Yorkers on the move in their city. An essential element in these paintings is movement—their movement or mine, the acts of ‘being still’ and ‘on-the-go’ dancing together, the opportunities missed in fleeting moments.
I see ‘Work in progress (a glimpse)’ as a celebration of non-impressions that by the thousands, and unbeknownst to ourselves in the moment, make up the urban texture of our days.
It is the unknown soldier of city infrastructure upkeep I honor with this painting—‘The Anonymous’ in this metropolis of sidewalk-racing passers-by, tunnel-shuttling commuters, and e-bikers zigzagging their way through traffic-jam honks. Thousands like this man play an essential role in keeping the city running with each other, for each other, for everyone, without there being a championship, an Oscar, Emmy or Pulitzer Prize to win for their contributions to get appreciated.
A hard-fought union contract supports them in making a living, and keeping the city livable, assuring them and everyone a quality of life that makes this city the dynamic place it is. It’s the orange uniform with day-glow yellow lines that makes them visible. OSHA is law in work environments with conditions that fluctuate with the season, the day, the hour, and often most unexpectedly. OSHA is the law that keeps crews safe. The vests counter the varying levels of often dismal lighting underground, the closest thing to appreciation of their being and the work they perform.
They are seen from the corner of the eye by the thousands passing by, as day-glo streaks. Orange and yellow clad workers in support of us, our jobs, us going home, or out… The maintenance they perform in support of us getting to go to Nitehawk Cinema… to see ‘Anora,’ to Film Forum… to catch a rerun of Woody Allen’s ‘Manhattan,’ to experience ‘Chicago’… on Broadway, or to cheer on our team in the Subway Series or in any other game in town.
The thrill of painting a glimpse like this is in the dialog I have with the image I have harvested with my smartphone, that split second that hardly entered my awareness the moment I pressed the full-moon-shaped button. I extend time, and I slow down the express train in a medium that flows with the measured speed of my hand holding a brush. I get to think about who this person is, and the service MTA crews provide. Ladders and tool bags on the platform inform me about their activity to a degree. They are congruent within the context of delay, decay, and time of day.
Yet, I’m not likely to ever know their name, background, favorite song, voting history, pronoun, or legal status… That being a fact of life, especially in the big city, it leaves me to wonder, and ask myself “Is this image complete?” and “What is my place in it?”