02.06.09
Posted in Being Better, City Life, Fun, art at 2:22 pm by Beau
I have an unwritten list of things that I would like to do or should like to do in New York City before the end of my days here and I marked one off last night, finally.
Whenever you talk to people who live here, most have common NYC things that we all take for granted that we’ve never done, even though we’ve lived here for years and years. I don’t even remember how many years it was before Jeff and I walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and that should be one of those requisite events that every New Yorker does when they get to the city…it’s free and the view is stunning.
Section of Maxfield Parrish's "Old King Cole"
So on my unwritten list of which things seemingly pop out of nowhere was having drinks at the King Cole Bar in the St. Regis Hotel. It wasn’t so much about having expensive cocktails in a dark-paneled, up scale location where supposedly the Bloody Mary was introduced to the US, but rather the famous Maxfield Parrish mural backing the entire length of the bar.
Maxfield Parrish is a favorite artist and illustrator of mine. I’ve collected replicas of his work and always try to have at least a post-card hanging in my cube or office. Years ago Jeff and I took the day and drove down to a retrospective of his at the Philadelphia Museum of Art which was amazing.
So Jeff was a trooper and met me on 55th and 5th last night for a quick after-work drink. The bar is as dark and dark-paneled as you could hope for which seemed to be the perfect setting for the mural which is 8ft tall and spans 30 feet across behind the bar. The beauty and hallmark of Parrish’s work was his use of a glazing technique rather than just outright painting. In this, the light seems to pass through the layers of glaze and then reflect back out, causing the painting to glow from an internal light. The darkness of the bar framed this effect beautifully. The colors Parrish used, also specific to him and his art, were perfect and warm and inviting.
I spent most of my glass of red wine staring at the mural realizing other than Parrish painting it, I didn’t know much about it so I googled it up when we got home. What I’m most disappointed about was learning the legend of the wry smile on King Cole’s face, thought to have been modeled after John Jacob Astor who originally commissioned the mural for his Knickerbocker hotel bar. As the tale goes, there was an unwritten competition among illustrators of the day to see who could sneak the act of flatulence into one of their public works. Supposedly Parrish won this contest with Old King Cole. Not only is the King smiling a secret smile but the reactions of his flanking knights give it away.
It’s not the DiVinci Code, but I’ll take it because its funny and seems to be appropriate for early-American illustration.
When I was reading up on the mural I also found this article in the NYTimes article about its restoration a few years ago that also relates the secret farting tale.
Anyone coming to NYC with some time to kill, it would be worthwhile to sneak into the King Cole bar and check out this work of art. I’m glad I finally did.
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05.28.08
Posted in City Life, The days at 10:35 am by Beau
I found the local gentleman’s hang out in the gayborhood here in Philly early on in this engagement and now manage to head down for a late evening cocktail a few evenings each week. Though shy, I’ve managed to engage the bartenders so I know know their names and they know mine and know that I like my Sapphire gin and tonic with extra limes. It’s all rather sedate but it’s a nice end to long days and it beats watching reruns of shows I could give a fig about in a lonely, sterile hotel room and pretend that somehow that is considered living.
Now that I have a regular presence, some of the locals are becoming familiar to me and I can watch them pass through, sit at their regular seats, drink their drinks and then head home, much the way I do. I get some stares and I’m never sure if it’s disdain for being an outsider or hunger for the smell of new meat. I smile through it all and engage in friendly conversation when the occasion strikes which suits me just fine. Nothing too heavy and my ring usually ends any conversations of indelicate offers before they begin.
Last night, a gentleman sat down next to me and I could smell his stale cigarette breath a mile off. He was sort of mussed about all over and I took it to mean he was probably on his regular bender. We chit-chatted a bit and he reference my ring and asked how long I’d been with my partner. After I told him thirteen years, I asked him whether he was with anyone to which he paused, smiled, and then told me it was complicated.
I was of two minds about this answer. Of course anything can be complicated but really, the question is pretty simple. I didn’t want to know any details about open relationships or crumbling circumstances or any of the drama that can liein between. I just wanted a frame of reference. But he sort of left it at ‘complicated’ and we talked a bit about the historic Philadelphia neighborhoods and blue-bloods and how New York is different but sometimes the same. We filled up minutes where I tickled the ice cubes in my empty glass until he finally circled back to his ‘complicated’ relationship. The ‘complicated’ part is apparently a wife and three kids at home in the Philadelphia suburbs who don’t know that when he’s out at a ‘meeting’ for work, it usually hooking up with guys who don’t care that he’s unavailable to them for a long-term or emotional relationship because he’s in love with his wife.
I guess I’m never too surprised about these things and while the justifications of his bisexuality really just cloud the deceit, I’m also not one to get militant or indignant about how stupid the whole thing is. I live by the “who am I to judge” motto, especially after a 12-hour day and a gin and tonic. So he prattled on and on, looking for some kind of something from me and really, all I could muster is a, “wow, that must be challenging” which is Grade A consultant speak for “Mary, pleeeeease.” Then he got it and left and I got back to my quiet chilling out with my empty, uncomplicated glass and thankful for it.
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