The High Line is an elevated pathway built on an old railway viaduct in west Manhattan. It’s described as a
“living system” drawing from multiple disciplines which include landscape architecture, urban design, and ecology. Since opening in 2009, the High Line has become an icon of contemporary landscape architecture.”
Along the 2.33 km walk are views of Manhattan’s urban landscapes. Towering skyscrapers, avant garde architecture, old and new buildings. Since it’s opening in 2009 real estate value for apartments abutting the park have climbed.
For $6 million dollars you can get a home ten meters away from a pathway sporting twenty thousand pedestrians a day. For even more, you can watch the pedestrians from your luxurious glass enclosed bathroom and bathtub. It is a room with a view. The question is, who’ll be viewing whom?
What do you do when you’re in New York City in the worst spring snow storm in a recent history? You go to the museum of course. You, Me and Fifty Thousand other people.
Like well muffled lemmings we line up at the MoMA, pay for tickets and shuffle off to line up again for coat check. We head off to the escalators where we shuffle through five floors of exhibits. Exquisite, gorgeous and beautiful art.
Somewhere on the second floor I remember what a uncultured noob I am. Oh I see the wonder of the famous Water Lillies and the brilliance of the Starry Night. I even get the genius of the color blocky Mondrians. I recognize the beauty and famous-ness of these pieces but I am not enthralled by them.
Instead I am drawn to the frames of scenes outside. Quiet and fleeting vistas of snow falling silently on brownstones across the city.