Riding in a cab (whose driver actually stopped the meter when it seemed to him that he had taken one too many twisty turns in the convoluted West Village - very nice of him) to a consultation in the far West Village, I saw these little irises planted around street trees on 11th Street at 5th Avenue. Simple, restrained, delicate. I resolved to walk back to the ofifce, to see what people have planted on the street.
No restraint: exuberance! Possibly planted by someone who is colour blind. But I couldn't hate them - they're just so...uncalculated, happy. This is 10th Street at 5th Avenue.
I hit the jackpot on 10th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues. Is the flower spirit alive on its sidewalks infectious? Does one house catch it from the other? Just earlier I was saying to a producer who is organizing a spring shoot for NBC's Open House, that I believe in waging war on the street with flowers (thinking of our trashed pot on Forsyth Street, and the new ones that have taken its place). The West Village isn't exactly the ghetto, but I believe in the principle of blatant beauty.
All of the following pictures are a few doors away from each other.
More Village, but I forget which street. I was wending ...
Below: this is outside a restaurant on West 11th and...? Close to the West Side Highway. Steps away from my appointment at this apparently controversial building, conceived by Julian Schnabel. I like it, a lot.
These plantings have Rebecca Cole written all over them (the glory of the salvaged object). Not quite my thing, but very appealing, and there's just so much
Finally, behind the Citibank near a community garden below Washington Square Park, these cold frames. Say aaaaaaaaaah. Seeds taking the air.
They are dreaming of summer, of the tomatoes and peppers and squash and aubergines and runner beans and cucumbers they will become. Of the rataouilles, gumbos, caponatas and sliced salads they will inspire.