Between the lines, p.14
Between the Lines, page 14
Is there a moment at Matador Records that you’ll remember forever?
I’ve always loved a good juxtaposition. In the early days we’d go to meetings at Atlantic Records when Ahmet Ertegun was still there. We were twenty-four-year-old kids smoking cigarettes on the thirty-second floor of Rockefeller Center with guys in three-piece suits smoking actual pipes. It was a strange clash visually and it was also strange that the music that we found appealing had become a mainstream commodity.
What made people want to listen to outsiders at that point in time?
Music was homemade then, less produced, and still random in discovery. We were all very fearful of “selling out” back then. Once you succeeded, you were “outside the outside” and your credibility was lost. Now people aspire to sell out, which I don’t think is very interesting. I think homemade art is one of the only worthy pursuits of your time and money. You have to go to the source to get the ultimate, unexpurgated experience.
Bleecker Street station
Manhattan, 2020
Amyra León
The Price of the Ticket by James Baldwin
Music is my source of catharsis. I’m a musician, activist, author, educator, and a New York native. I’m building a universe where we can safely look at our wounds and heal together. As a young person, I used to run amok in these streets, writing plays at the piers and putting them up in Midtown. Everything was music, everything was poetry, everything was a stage.
Does New York appeal to your senses in a particular way?
The sonic landscape of New York City is very specific. As a musician, I recognize the synchronicity of the city more than anything. You hear the birds singing, the leaves moving, the train is coming, and you feel your heartbeat. Breeding silence in this city is a personal accountability to oneself. Even at home you still hear the world outside. Everything else in this city may disappear, but the myriad sounds will never be diminished.
This book is called The Price of the Ticket. What’s in that title for you?
This book means everything to me. It’s a reminder to be accountable to my ability to tell stories and to ignite change. James Baldwin was a creator in an era when the boiling point kept rising, and he paints such a clear picture of how his skin was received in the world. You cannot walk into a single James Baldwin experience without being confronted with yourself. It’s important to see yourself and also to recognize the people around you, whether you know them personally or not. James, Nina, Billie, Martin, Malcolm, Kwame Ture—they all knew each other, and they’re part of my community, too.
What is at the center of all the ways you share your voice?
I follow my words. If the message must be housed in music, then I will sing it. If the message must be consumed in the privacy of your mind, I will write it. If the message must be felt, I will perform a play. If the message must bring you closer to me, I will make a film. I occupy different mediums to help people find their unique entry point. People from all over the world digest my work. They’re weeping, they’re laughing, and they’re healing with me, beyond the limitation of language.
A high level of care always vibrates differently.
Honest emotion can always be felt. Many artists aim to create what they are told people want to hear. That is a disservice to reality. To make a Top 40 hit requires that you create something that purposefully breeds temporary satisfaction. I pray that will change in our culture because the ephemeral nature of it will leave us constantly dissatisfied.
A “hit” is quick. It hits you and then dissipates.
Yes, I think a certain level of honesty is necessary in creating lasting work and change. If you’re looking to understand what’s happening now, read the reflections of people who have lived through this before. Baldwin’s essays have saved, ignited, and invited me to become a more transparent creator. Dive into the work, y’all.
Grand Army Plaza station
Brooklyn, 2020
Timothy Goodman
Chronicles: Volume One by Bob Dylan
I’m a Cancer-Gemini cusp, Capricorn rising, Scorpio moon, and all of my favorite artists are Geminis. I think this is easily the fifth time I’ve read Bob Dylan’s Chronicles. Bob is of course a Gemini.
How would you describe a typical Gemini?
Being a Gemini means that you get bored easily, so you need stimulation. That’s why I draw, write, and conduct social experiments. For me, the greatest joy about being a designer is to connect with another human through my work. Bob Dylan is in his tenth incarnation as a musician. He had three careers in the ’60s alone—folk, electric, and then there was that whole thing where he became the voice of a generation with “Blowing in the Wind.” But for a while, he didn’t know who he was or what he was doing. He talks about it in this book, which is super esoteric.
Where would you have run into Bob in the city back then?
Oh, we would have met at the West 4th Street basketball court. Living nearby still feels like a dream. I always wonder what it was like in the ’60s—how it felt and smelled, and what the food tasted like. I think about the beatniks, the poets, and the musicians. Yes, I romanticize the hell out of it. [Laughs.] I like to remember beginnings, like my own, painting homes in Cleveland making $8 an hour, pulling buckets of wallpaper glue up the stairs.
What do you get from revisiting a beginning?
It’s humbling. I have a friend named Les who is sixty-eight years old. He’s lived here all his life and comes from another world. Les also is the world, he’s one with everything and a really special guy. Everything and nothing is funny to him, and you can feel all the years in his voice and in his hands. I think I want to be a combination of Les, Bob Dylan, and Quincy Jones when I’m an old man.
Astor Place station
Manhattan, 2020
Gail Anderson
Going Into Town: A Love Letter to New York by Roz Chast
There was a spot around the corner from my apartment in the West Village, Hudson Diner, that closed down a few years ago. I had my order—a grilled cheese, fries, and a Coke with ice and no straw—and my favorite booth. It was nice to have a place where someone remembers that you require a little extra ketchup.
How does it feel to be seen among millions?
It makes me feel like I actually cast a shadow. [Laughs.] I’m fortunate to have my design work seen in the city where I grew up. When I see my work at a newsstand, or on a marquee in Times Square, or on a subway poster, I feel incredibly lucky to be part of the city in that way.
Do you have a favorite diner anecdote?
I had lunch at a diner with Milton Glaser several times during the last years of his life. He was very sweet to me because we’re both from the Bronx. Milton is the design hero behind the I NY logo, he was a founder of New York magazine, and he is the definition of a legend, period. His passing created a real void, and there isn’t a New Yorker who wasn’t touched by his genius, unknowingly or knowingly. I mean, who hasn’t picked up an I NY souvenir? Milton gave that logo to the city and he never made a penny off it. He was the ultimate New Yorker.
Does Going Into Town reflect your New York experience?
Oh yes! Roz Chast wrote this book for her kids about the city. It is ha-ha-funny and dead-on accurate. Roz is a cartoonist for the New Yorker. Her wit and her humor are everything I love, maybe because we’re around the same age. If you have a guest coming to visit, or a child moving to the city, or if you’ve been here all your life, get a copy to have a chuckle and feel wistful.
What would you say in a love letter to New York?
Dear New York, please—no more mice in my apartment. Thank you for everything else. Love, Gail.
Christopher Street–Sheridan Square station
Manhattan, 2020
Rajiv Fernandez
Paris versus New York: A Tally of Two Cities by Vahram Muratyan
As a Brown boy from Nebraska with a funny name, conforming to a single profession is foreign to me. [Laughs.] I’m an illustrator, an architect, and a comedian. I love that Paris versus New York visually emphasizes how different our cities are, yet there is a commonality among us. The bold imagery playfully compares Paris with its baguettes, the Eiffel Tower, and bobos to New York with its bagels, the Statue of Liberty, and hipsters.
What qualifies something as “good” design?
Good design is not just meant to please the eye. It’s meant to spark interesting dialogue. New York is the diversity capital of the world and it shows in the vast array of designers with totally different sensibilities that clash and coexist here, from Times Square to Brooklyn.
Lafayette Avenue station
Brooklyn, 2017
Melissa Braxton
Happy City by Charles Montgomery
What do I think makes a city happy? Diversity of everything! This book is about urban design and I’m an architect, so the topic interests me. Happy City shows how little things affect our lives so deeply. For example, commuting in a car versus taking a train has a big effect on our happiness, but a huge amount of money goes into street infrastructure and much less goes to public transportation. I lived in Copenhagen for a while, and they held a town meeting to decide on the design of a manhole. Can you imagine? [Laughs.] I don’t think that would work in the United States but it’s certainly interesting to think about what we could be doing differently here with better design.
Clinton–Washington Avenues station
Brooklyn, 2015
Wendy Goodman
The Splendid and the Vile by Erik Larson
When you go into someone’s home, you immediately know a whole number of things about that person. You see their discipline. You know what books they read or that they don’t read—a house without books is a very sad place. You understand if they have beautiful things and if they take care of those beautiful things. The most important thing you understand is their passion. As a design editor, I go into many different homes and I’m very sensitive to smell. I smell if it’s fresh, if they burn incense, if they cook. I love the life of places.
Is there a place you’ll remember forever because it was so special?
The apartment of photographer Richard Avedon comes to mind. It thrilled me beyond anything. All of the walls were made of bulletin boards and he could stick anything on them with a thumbtack. I thought that was so cool and easy. I also love that his library had a collection of every Proust translation ever done. Avedon was obsessed with Proust.
What a dream. Are you obsessed with this book?
I have not been able to put it down! It’s about World War II, specifically the time in England when Churchill was prime minister. The Nazis thought that if they executed a Blitzkrieg, the British would surrender and they could move in. Because Churchill was an extraordinary leader, the British endured. One person can bring about great confidence during a time of great suffering.
Does it give you thoughts on why it’s important not to surrender?
Absolutely. It shows that people have much more courage and strength than they give themselves credit for. It’s very powerful to endure things you didn’t think you could. Right now, we’re watching old ways die and we might not know what that new way is yet. The miracle of healing and having the courage to keep going is crucial, however. That’s the thing to remember: nothing ventured, nothing gained. Your curiosity will get you everywhere.
West 4th Street–Washington Square station
Manhattan, 2020
Leta Sobierajski
Architectural Body by Madeline Gins
My entire life revolves around color. My husband and I are intrigued by a couple called Shusaku Arakawa and Madeline Gins. Arakawa was an architect and Gins was a poet. They thought of the body as a piece of architecture that needs constant stimulation and should be tricked into being uncomfortable. They built these really unusual houses. I went to Long Island to see one a couple of weeks ago and when you walk inside, the floor is bumpy and all of the walls are different colors. The space makes you feel childlike, alert, and curious. We’ve added as much color to every surface in our Brooklyn apartment as possible as an homage to this couple.
What did your apartment look like before?
Our home used to be a clean white space, because I was convinced that minimalism was my way of life. But in the last couple of years, I’ve realized that I don’t actually associate with a white room anymore. Now every wall in our apartment is a different color: pink, red, yellow, dark blue, apple green, orange—every hue of the rainbow. We’re renters and our landlord is going to be so surprised if we ever move out. [Laughs.]
That deposit is not coming back. Do we all see color the same way?
Not at all! Color is a very personal experience, and how you see it is influenced by what’s around it and what you’re juxtaposing next to it. How you see color can even depend on your mood. If you see something as blue and I see it as green, we’re both right. Some people say that black and white are not colors, but I don’t think that’s true because in printing, black has every color in it and white is void of everything.
This is fantastic. If none of us see the same color, what is the purpose of color?
Color is a vessel for joy! Even if we all perceive color differently it still evokes emotion about the world around you. Seeing color is kind of like hearing a song. You might be more attuned to listening to the trumpet, another person might be more into the flute. You each enjoy it for different reasons, but you still have an experience together.
Grand Street station
Brooklyn, 2020
Harmonica Sunbeam
Worm Loves Worm by J. J. Austrian, illustrated by Mike Curato
When I take the train, I get one of two reactions: a nice compliment or an ugly look. What would make you frown at something so fabulous? I just made your day more interesting, honey! Nothing else was going on until I walked into that subway car. [Laughs.]
Where are you going in this fabulous purple sequin gown?
I’m a storyteller for Drag Queen Story Hour. We read books to children to let them know that everybody is different but that we’re all special. I always wear something bright and sparkly because if I can’t catch their attention with the book at least I give them something to look at. You want your first experience meeting a drag queen something to be remembered. Today, I read at a public school in the East Village, and this is one of my favorite books. It’s about two worms who are in love and want to get married. They face obstacles from other animals who say, “You need rings.” And the worms say, “We don’t have fingers, we can’t wear rings.” Another animal says, “You should wear the rings as belts!” Someone always tells the worms what to do, but the worms say, “This is how we are doing it!” In the end, they get married because love is love.
How did you become Harmonica Sunbeam?
In high school, my name was Macadamia Serendipity because I like macadamia nuts, but that was too lengthy for a marquee, so I went with Tequila Sunrise and eventually that morphed into Harmonica Sunbeam. If you get the chance to make up a name, you really want to be the only one. Like Cher. I did drag for the first time when I was nineteen and got involved with the ballroom scene. The category of my first ball was “Butch Queen First Time in Drag at a Ball.” My house members put me together—hair, shoes, nails, makeup—and all I had to do was go out and present. I did, and years later people are still bitter that I won. [Laughs.] I was a member of the House of Adonis and eventually became the mother of that house. We were a relatively small house, and we didn’t live together, but we would gather often and that’s what made us a family. Now I have one daughter and a cat. Even though I’m no longer active in the ballroom scene, it’s still a big part of me and it shows in my performances. That’s where I got my start, and I will always bring a little bit of ballroom with me.
I bet that a little bit of ballroom makes life much better.
Yes, it does! As drag queens, we have this situation where people fall in love with what they see. I have to tell them that I don’t always look this way. I want you to appreciate what I do, but I want you to love me for who I am. This may be a fantasy for you, but it is not for me. I used to be really shy and I would not parade around halfway ready with my face painted and my boy clothes on. [Laughs.] Now I feel confident to say, “I am who I am.” We only get one life. We can’t live for other people. We have to live for ourselves in order to get the happiness we deserve.
