Between the lines, p.7
Between the Lines, page 7
How do you describe your relationship with authority?
It’s complicated. I try not to follow anyone blindly, because I’m German and the orders Germans followed led to the Holocaust, a cruel disaster. As for my personal life, I grew up with anti-authoritarian parents and I could do pretty much what I wanted if I could present my parents with the right reasons. My father is from Romania. He fled his home as a child during World War II and Romania was later led by an authoritarian tyrant, Nicolae Ceauşescu. So my father taught me to question everything, especially authority.
Books can help us to question authority.
Of course, books show us variations of all the big questions. Every book is about our search for happiness, meaning, love, and community in one way or another. If we want to survive as a species, these questions need to be thought about, read about, and talked about. I mean, look at this amazing cover of Happiness, as Such by Natalia Ginzburg. Doesn’t it make you curious? Ginzburg’s writing is sparse and unsentimental, which makes it very powerful. Her book is a series of letters between several women and a man who fled the Nazis. I don’t love the title Happiness, as Such, but it captures the position of the mother addressing her disappeared son. She believes that happiness is fleeting and questions if it exists at all.
Do you think happiness exists?
Oh yes! The happy stuff gets me through the day. For me, conflict and happiness are not opposites. I derive great pleasure from intellectual conflict. Harmony does not necessarily make me happy. I always loved the fiery discussions my family had at the dinner table. Being daring and bold can make you very happy.
Clinton–Washington Avenues station
Brooklyn, 2019
Kristin Vita LaFlare
1984 by George Orwell
I just got tickets to see the 1984 play on Broadway, so I thought I better read the book. I hear that the play is really immersive—people throw up in the theater and feel the whole gamut of emotions. It’s good to catch up on classics, especially when they’re relevant again.
Who is Big Brother?
I don’t know! Is it Google? Alexa? Russia? What I do know is that we need to pay attention and not just play with our phones! Our Google Home started talking without being prompted the other day and it freaked me out. I consider myself a nobody, yet someone wants all my data and information. For what? To send me ads? It’s so creepy that we don’t have any privacy anymore.
Is reading 1984 reassuring or is it making things worse?
This book is a wake-up call. It puts me in a panic to think about who is actually in control, and the older I get, the more I realize that I have to actively try not to be terrified every day. It’s good to have an understanding of the bigger picture and it’s good to see a therapist. I’m also drinking a lot of wine and I’m trying to keep a sense of humor about the fact that the world is ending. [Laughs.]
L Train
Manhattan, 2017
Elise Wien
Do Not Say We Have Nothing by Madeleine Thien
This book travels through various time periods in China, which I love. The prose is really flowery at times—I usually like it a little more sparse—but it does enough to keep me going. I read a lot of plays, I’m a playwright, and plays are always fast-moving because it’s all dialogue and stage direction, so they’re a lot snappier. My work is usually comedic, absurd, and about things I struggle with. I recently had a job at a software company where I worked with sixteen people named Matt. [Laughs.] I did customer support on the phone and I sort of transformed that into a play about the Internet and tech companies.
How was working in customer service?
It was hard but it was honestly more positive than I had thought. The minority of people are terrible. Most people just want to be helped. I realized that when somebody yelled at me because they couldn’t connect a subdomain they weren’t actually mad at me. They might have marital problems. I think I’m very good at deescalation now, and I feel confident in turning a situation around.
47th–50th Streets/Rockefeller Center station
Manhattan, 2019
Bogdana Ferguson
The Future Is History: How Totalitarianism Reclaimed Russia by Masha Gessen
People still don’t quite understand that Ukraine, which is where I’m from, is a separate country from Russia. It kind of makes sense because throughout history, my country has changed hands a lot. People tend to think we’re either exactly the same as Russia or completely different. Neither is quite true. That’s why reading The Future Is History is amazing. Masha Gessen knows so much about the nuances between these countries.
What do you make of the title of the book, The Future Is History?
There’s a saying that if we don’t know our history we’re bound to repeat it. That has been drilled into my head ever since I was a little kid. Gessen connects the dots between dictatorships, the current governing body, and the overall state of affairs in Russia, and although the book is mostly about Russia, you can’t help but see similarities in American politics. It’s interesting how people can hold so much power over others so shamelessly and irresponsibly. I’m fascinated with dictatorships and I love reading about religious cults.
Cults and their inner workings are fascinating.
Humans have the beautiful ability to believe in ideas, but sometimes that interferes with our basic instinct for survival. When a cult leader tells people to drink poison, the followers believe in that fantasy so deeply they actually do it. No animal ever kills itself because of an ideology.
Do you know the song “Wind of Change” by the Scorpions?
Yes, I know the song [laughs] and I’ve also listened to the podcast Wind of Change. It’s crazy and talks about the role of cynicism and how it can be used to push certain ideologies. For many people, cynicism is the survival mode in modern-day Russia. The majority of the population can’t fight anymore because they have no more hope. The podcast is inspired by the song and makes an interesting point that everything in culture is propaganda and that propaganda is made by all artists who are projecting an idea. It definitely gave me a lot to think about.
7th Avenue station
Brooklyn, 2020
Ralph Bavaro
Photography: The 50 Most Influential Photographers of All Time by Chris Dickie
My twin brother, who is the older one by three minutes, and I watched Saturday Night Live religiously every weekend, and we grew up with the SNL cast. My first internship in college was at SNL and it was crazy to walk into studio 8H for the first time. I worked in the photography department under Mary Ellen Matthews, the lead photographer, and Will Heath. I was there for two years and it was a surreal experience. The studio is a lot smaller in person than it looks on TV, but it was the experience of a lifetime.
Do you have a favorite photographer?
My favorite photographer is Richard Avedon. He was one of the greatest fashion and portrait photographers of all time, if not the greatest. You should totally check out his book In the American West. This book, Photography by Chris Dickie, features many other photographers I look to for inspiration, like Annie Leibovitz, Robert Mapplethorpe, and William Eggleston. They think outside the box and inspire me to set myself apart from others.
Do you remember the last photography exhibit that blew your mind?
The last exhibit I remember seeing was about Vivian Maier. She was a nanny and also secretly a street photographer—and an amazing one at that. She would roam the streets with a medium-format camera and use “normal lenses,” which made me realize how close she got to her subjects. She also only got ten to twelve shots on a roll of film. Hearing about her background and seeing how she worked really puts things into perspective.
Old Town station
Staten Island, 2020
Amanda Degelmann
The Pleasure of My Company by Steve Martin
I was skeptical of a book that’s written by an actor, but Steve Martin is funny, so I went for it. The main character is in his thirties, unemployed, and talks to his therapist every week because he’s afraid of curbsides. I relate to some of his social anxieties, like dealing with people.
What makes someone hard to deal with?
If someone is unwilling to listen, that makes someone very hard to deal with, and I feel like a lot of people are not listening right now. The more I think about it, the more it makes sense that I’m reading this book. [Laughs.] I empathize with the main character retreating from society.
14th Street–Union Square station
Manhattan, 2017
Sydnee Washington
A Good Cry: What We Learn from Tears and Laughter by Nikki Giovanni
Time goes by so fast when you’re not making money. I’ve been a performer and a comedian in New York for eight years. Before the pandemic, I was always on the go and everything was spontaneous—as a performer I know that any street corner can be my stage. But I recently transitioned into adulthood and was like, “Okay girl, you’re thirty-five, you need to know how to make pasta that’s not in a cup.” I wanted to get myself the tools to be an adult. That said, it’s second nature for me to be as chaotic in the kitchen as I am in other parts of my life.
This year everything has been majorly chaotic. How do you deal with it?
Oh honey, we’re all just two minutes away from having a good cry. Sometimes you cry and it’s situational, but having a good cry means you’re getting all the things out that have piled up inside of you. Afterward you’re like, “I don’t need to cry until next year! I hit my mark!” That’s a good cry, when you’ve cried so hard that it’s fulfilling. Nikki Giovanni is a legendary poet and writer. This book is about her interactions with the city and the many tensions we are feeling. It is refreshing to sit with her.
Do you remember the last time you had a good cry?
I was watching Up on a plane, and from beginning to end, that movie is a tsunami. We all have emotions and feelings, but sometimes it’s not good to take them so literal. When you’re depressed, every day feels like the worst day of your life. You have to realize that it’s only a feeling. It is not actually the worst day ever. I used to put my mental health by the wayside, but now it’s in my top three. You can’t do anything if you are not mentally stable, and often you just need a few words to gather yourself. That’s what Nikki Giovanni helps me to remember. Everything is a ball of Play-Doh that you can move around and shift into what it needs to be.
Gorgeous. Any closing thoughts on 2020?
2020 took me out. I have to smile with purpose now, especially at my age. If I am going to get a line by the mouth, it’s got to be top-tier laughs.
Halsey Street station
Brooklyn, 2020
Jeremy Cohen
Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor E. Frankl
I’m an emotional person, but I don’t cry often. I think it’s because we grow up seeing macho men and tough guys on TV and I feel like there’s a psychological thing going on where my body doesn’t let me cry. I’m a photographer and the last time I cried was when one of my photos was printed in New York magazine. I laid on the floor and cried for at least fifteen minutes. It was very cathartic. A lot of New Yorkers work hard and we forget to give ourselves a little pat on the back. It felt really good to be proud of myself.
Did this book have you in tears?
I definitely got emotional reading Man’s Search for Meaning. We all go through stuff, but Viktor Frankl went through the worst of the worst. He had an amazing career as a psychiatrist, he had a beautiful wife, all of these friends, and then all of a sudden the Holocaust happened. He ended up in multiple concentration camps, unaware if his family was even alive. It’s extremely morbid and bleak, yet this man knew how powerful our minds can be. He realized all he could do was to control his reactions to things. That’s how his mind stayed strong and that’s how he survived an impossible situation. That’s just phenomenal to me. I love the idea of being such an optimist that you can see the silver lining in any situation.
How did you and Viktor Frankl find each other?
When I was younger, I had no Jewish friends and was always a little embarrassed to be Jewish, because no one else was. I wanted to become more comfortable with myself and first picked up this book around the same time I went to Israel. It was magical to see the Dead Sea, Jerusalem, and Tel Aviv. The combination of going on that trip and reading this book helped me realize that I have a special connection with other Jewish people. By the way, did you know that the M in the M train stands for matzoh-ball soup? I’m just kidding [laughs], it doesn’t. But wouldn’t that be so cool?
Central Avenue station
Brooklyn, 2020
Frances Weisberg
Even Cowgirls Get the Blues by Tom Robbins
This story is about a woman named Sissy Hankshaw who is born with two extra-large thumbs. She takes that as a sign that she should become a hitchhiker. I’m from California and I’m used to being in nature and moving around in open spaces. This might be my third time reading this book. It reminds me to be adventurous and the descriptive imagery and Robbins’s prose are so beautiful. It’s an escape from my surroundings and it hits me right in the heart. I guess I’m drawn to this book over and over again because it’s about a person I would like to be: someone who lives on her own terms.
Metropolitan Avenue/Lorimer Street station
Brooklyn, 2015
Katja Blichfeld
Exquisite Mariposa by Fiona Alison Duncan
A good character is the most interesting thing to me. I could watch hours of TV about people’s lives, and this book feels a little bit like that. It rambles on and there aren’t a bunch of journeys that conclude in some satisfying way. I like that—and I was obviously attracted to this cover. There’s some sort of tea beverage, a doll dressed like an artistic millennial, and the kind of grass that comes inside a sushi package. It begs a second look.
La mariposa is the butterfly. Is it a transformational story?
It’s a meditation on “the Real,” which is something I think a lot of us are eager to tap into since we’re living online in “the Unreal.” The narrator sublets an apartment in LA with several people who are younger than her. Their building is called La Mariposa, and she is fascinated with her roommates and feels like she really sees them. The concept of words not always being enough resonates with me. Sometimes you can’t reduce your life to a caption on social media, but it has definitely become second nature for us to document life this way.
What is “the Real” for you personally?
For me, the realest moments happen when I have a true connection with another person. I’m really hungry to get to a place where I’m not bound by convention or the influence of social media. I don’t know if I’ll ever get there, but as I get older, I’m becoming more aware of how subjective reality is. I’m constantly negotiating and questioning how my experience squares up with other people’s experiences. That should never stop, I think. Especially since I’m someone who portrays other people’s lives.
Is there a specific type of New York character you love?
I’ve lived in New York for sixteen years and it’s getting harder to say what makes someone a real New Yorker. I guess this is where language fails me, because it comes down to a feeling and an intuition. The other day, I saw a woman on the subway and secretly snapped a photo of her so I could send it to my friend, who I knew would appreciate her. Both of us agreed that she was a true New Yorker. She was probably in her late fifties and had a hairdo that was developed decades ago. I am certain that she has a standing hair and nail appointment. She was probably going to her job at an office, because she was wearing boots with her hosiery. I could imagine her work shoes lined up under her desk, ready for her to slip on as they have been for all of time. I didn’t even hear her speak, but she epitomized New York City to me.
23rd Street station
Manhattan, 2020
Sean Michael Bennett
The Death and Life of Great American Cities by Jane Jacobs
Don’t you love it when someone does your hair and they’re flicking it around to show you all the ways it can be styled and you’re seeing yourself for the first time again? I’m a hairstylist and I think hair can be ordinary in terms of shape, color, style, and texture, but hair can also be a free-form object that exists outside the box and raises questions. How old is this person? What music do they listen to? Do they like the forest? Maybe that’s just New York hair, though. [Laughs.] Here we have gender-nonconforming hair, there is corona hair, protest hair, going-to-work hair, statement hair—our hair is solidified in our uniqueness, as it should be.
Do you have a favorite place to do hair in New York?
I have done hair everywhere! That’s why I carry this fifty-pound suitcase with me. I’ve done hair on the street, in studios, hotels, parks, on the beach, outside of clubs, and inside my favorite restaurants. I have cut hair at Le Bain, which is very froufrou, very chic, and it’s the place you go to be seen. I love to deconstruct the idea of what a space is meant to be. It’s good to ask, “What are we doing here? What does it mean to go to a leather bar?”
