I Was Present.

Every time I look at this photo of myself, I feel like I am looking at someone else that is not me. I have no idea what is going through my mind at the exact moment this photo was taken. I can’t tell if this occurred at the beginning of my sit, when I was stiff and uncomfortable, my heart beating almost painfully at the awareness that I was being watched. Both by strangers observing and by Marina herself. I had expected my mind to be racing but instead it was blank. Maybe this was taken a couple minutes in, when I found the entire situation funny — though not funny in an absurd sense, but enjoyable funny. I giggled, but probably in my mind, because I was too scared to contort my face, too afraid to smile. I felt compelled to hold the same expressionless face that she did, although judging from other photos in the set, people made all sorts of faces. I felt like I couldn’t, for some reason. Her face was straight, but her expression soft. And even though her stare was strong, never letting my eyes drop for a second, I didn’t feel like they were harsh. I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Was she trying to figure out who I was? My essence? Or was she just looking, observing?

Maybe this photo was taken toward the end of the session, when my eyes began to hurt from the bright lights and the murmur of the observing folk around us began to fade away. I felt like I was becoming trance-like and considered how when why I would finally know to get up. I almost came out of the trance, and then fell even deeper into it. I can’t remember what I was thinking about other than this. Suddenly, it just felt like the right moment to bow my head, close my eyes, and walk away. I felt like I had been sitting for around fifteen minutes – it turned out to be thirty-two.

I felt it necessary to walk straight out of the museum, nodding goodbye to my new friends from the line, and outside before I could even utter a word. Then I called my friends and told them as I walked to class it felt like I was floating. I had a headache. My eyes hurt. It was so cool. Yes. It just felt good. I think it is something everyone should try. The opportunity to have a connection — profound or totally meaningless — with a complete stranger is a rare and exhilarating thing. Or even just staring into someone’s eyes until one person, or both people, arbitrarily decide to stop — this is something I want to do with people.

I’m also quite sure that Marina has honed her telepathic abilities. I’m not even being sarcastic. She has probably learned to read minds, judge facial cues and look deeply into people’s eyes to learn something about them. This is totally possible.

I have been obsessed with looking through these photographs. Seeing how different everyone’s faces are…it’s fascinating. You know how they say that if you stare at something long enough, patterns will emerge? Well, I’ve found a few interesting ones in here. The prominence of certain facial features, one girl who has come in many different costumes (find the burka and go from there!), the repeats, the smilers, the criers, the celebrities. I find that when I walk around New York, I pay more attention to the detail of people’s faces, and take notice of the juxtaposition of one face with the face of the person next to them.

Marina Abramovic’s piece, The Artist is Present, has been getting a fair amount of buzz. These are some commentaries worth checking out:

Seeing Comedy in Serious Art

A Flower Every Day

The Art of Sitting

The Photographer is Also Present

The Other Artist is Present

Beautiful, Gorgeous Marina

I would love to hear other peoples’ experiences with this exhibit and piece.

Homegirl.

Another similarity? We’re both rad dancers. (Credit: Justin Ide/Harvard News Office)

Come again? I’ve been nominated for the Supreme Court? Shucks, you shouldn’t have.

I mean–you definitely should have. Its about time. All this radio and media stuff I’ve been doing is only to get me to one place. This bench ain’t big, baby. And I’m gonna be on it! Woo!

Wait, what’s that you say? Not me? But I thought you said “El–” and “Kag–”. ….Oh. I see. But I could be! The conservatives think I’m pretty radical too, sometimes.

Well, I guess I just feel famous today because everyone keeps saying my name. OK, not my name, exactly. The name of my evil twin.

Right. She’s the one who’s nominated for Justice.

Uh…does that make me the evil twin here?

We are linked only by our names, but I can’t help but feel a kind of kinship for her. I can picture the conversation we’ll have when we meet:

Her: “Hi, I’m Elena Kagan”

Me: “I’m Eleanor Kagan”

Her: “Are you mocking me?”

Me: “Are you mocking me?”

We both laugh.

End scene.

Put The Fun Between Your Legs!

Today was the Five Boro Bike Tour in New York City.

For starters, here’s the day in numbers:

• 1-speed bike (Raleigh Super Course!) as my ride
• 4 times I reapplied sunscreen
• 5 boroughs of New York City visited
• 5 major bridges crossed
• 42 miles of total riding
• 87 degrees Fahrenheit (94 Real Feel!)
• 32,000 fellow cyclists
• IMMEASURABLE JOY

The route looked a little like this. (click to download)

I knew that I wanted to write about this incredible day, but constantly updating this would have been unwieldy while biking, so I took to live-blogging it in my head (aka, “thinking”). But had I been able to, it might have gone a little bit like this:

• I had my iPod in one ear and conversations with new friends in the other. A lot of the music that cropped up couldn’t have been more perfect timing than if I’d planned it in a movie.
• The first bottleneck in Central Park. Everyone is walking their bikes and grumbling a little, I think because the initial momentum was still reverberating. I really listen to the lyrics of “John Wayne Gacy Jr.” for the first time. Eventually, the road opens up. “Where It’s At” begins, the perfect song for carefree park riding.
• We’re all stopped because a woman got hurt. The ambulance is taking care of her and the marshals assure us she is going to be fine. Out of the bottleneck, suddenly “Neighborhood #3 (Power Out)” comes on and I zoom downhill on the FDR, laughing wildly. This was one of the most amazing moments.

Out of the other side of the Queensboro Bridge: we’re passing Silvercup Studios. 30 Rock is filmed here! “Wait for me, Liz Lemon!” I yell. Live every week like it’s Shark Week. Live every month like it’s Bike Month!

• I hear a rumor that there is a man on a penny farthing up ahead. I must find him! We are already friends, he just doesn’t know it yet.
• Riding down the BQE, it almost feels like us cyclists are going the same speed as the cars in the lanes across the barrier. I wish we would all chant together, “Whose streets? Everybody’s streets!” because that’s how it should be. “Chicago” is playing and it encourages me down the long stretch of highway: ALL THINGS GO, ALL THINGS GO.

• 30 miles in, and we’re approaching the homestretch. My iPod dies but in its place, the cool breeze off the Hudson urges us on to our final destination – a huge festival at Fort Wadsworth on Staten Island. BUT FIRST: ye must cross the mighty Verrazano Bridge. I’m starting to fade, so I take a break at the base and meet some cool kids. And then we start walking, walking, walking up to the mouth of the bridge herself.
• Just before we make it to the start, there’s one last respite for water and refueling. Fire Hydrants Away!
• At the very top of the Verrazano: man with a boombox on his bike is blasting “Livin’ on A Prayer,” and during each chorus he makes sure to emphasize “Ohhhh, we’re halfway there.” Because, well, we were.
• Success! I am super proud of myself. Festival festivities ensue.
• Staten Island Ferry ride home. It’s my first time. My bike liked the view.
• Cold Shower

***

What was most moving for me was the camaraderie and spirit of the whole event. Everyone was so psyched on participating, that anyone sporting the green vest was automatically their friend. Conversations struck up everywhere. Strangers helped each other change flats and pump tires. There was an overwhelming sense of, “What if it could be like this all the time?” Imagine: biking down the FDR to work every day, with movable bike shops and refuel stations that would crop up all along the freeways. And you could talk to people during your commute. And if you don’t want to talk, just admire each others’ bikes!

I don’t care who you are: young or old, fat or skinny, able-bodied or handicapped – you should be at this ride next year.

Please share any experiences of this Five Boro Bike Tour!