I get mad at New York sometimes. Mostly because it’s not the same place I moved here for. That was 1997. In my mind I was getting The Warriors NYC, and not Giuliani’s Disney circus. Mike can tell you, I’m a jaded New Yorker—I’ve seen the Chelsea Hotel lose its soul, CBGB’s close down, and Coney Island become the land of Fischer Price toys. But I’ve also been privy to amazing underground parties and met amazing groups of artists and performers that inspire me on a daily basis. Whether I want to admit it or not, this city has ingrained itself into me. And every once in a while you can find a place that has managed to stay true to its spirit. The Elk Hotel is one of those places, located in Times Square, one of the last of the hourly hotels in NYC. The paintings are screwed into the walls (literally through the paintings, which were upside down in our room), the mattresses come with one sheet, and many a couple have carved their names into the bedpost. Mike checked the mattress for bedbugs before we even put our things down. The Elk Hotel is a “nice” place for couples meeting by the hour. Clearly it was the perfect setting for Lie & Indite.
Photo from 14 to 42
We met up with Balthazar and Sonia in front of the hotel on a Saturday. I was late, Mike was later, caught in a Duane Reade buying markers and rubbing alcohol. When we went inside, the men running the front desk refused to rent one room to all four of us. We had to rent two rooms—each for two people. I still think we got swindled but that day I wasn’t in the mood to fight. We rented two rooms for two hours, using the one with the best light and most space. We set up the equipment, I stripped down and Mike started writing…
Photo by Balthazar
It’s funny looking through these photos every week or two and putting together a post.
(Photo by Balthazar)
I know that, in the beginning, I wrote that I’m not crazy about blogs in general, and that I didn’t want our writing to get in the way of the images, but just seeing the photos for the 10th, 11th, 12th time makes me want to start writing.
(Photo by Balthazar)
And in that way, I think about how reading makes me want to write, or going to a reading will (sometimes) get my mind running on a different track. Even going to a gallery, or the museum, or out for a walk can be the determinant for whether I’m going to write or not on any particular day. What I don’t often do is read my own work, then start on something new. Lie & Indite, however, does the interesting task of allowing me a removal in approach to my own writing, which itself has been re-imagined for this new form.
(Photo by Balthazar)
Then of course there’s Katelan. Seems like every time we get together, I walk away knowing exactly where I am. It’s one of those things that I’m normally too caught-up in the movement of my life to notice, and something you can’t know for sure without a willingness to manipulate perspective, and to allow your perspective to be manipulated.
M.C.L., Apr. 2011
This week we become pixels.
Photos by Balthazar
Part of this experience is the New York experience. Going to sleazy motels, having limited time, the wrong markers, and making art.
We create the world we live in. We create ourselves.
I took an impromptu trip to Paris for 5 nights last week, to see two old friends, one who was very glad I was coming (he’s from Detroit; we met there), and one who probably didn’t expect or explicitly want to see me, but nevertheless agreed to.
(Photo by Balthazar)
I grew up moving every few months or years, so it’s almost a necessity for me to get out of the country, and especially out of New York, every once in a while. I get really caught up in living here. On the other hand, I always find myself being relieved when I see the New York skyline after an absence, and despite what I thought would happen, returning from Paris was no different.
(Photo by Balthazar)
We’re beginning to approach the end of the first round of Lie & Indite shoots, and despite what I thought this project would mean to me, and to everyone I’ve talked to since it’s gone up, I think L&I has among other things undoubtedly become a tribute from two non-NYC natives to the kind of city that would spur someone to say “I want you to write poems all over me for a photo shoot” to a relatively new friend (read: almost stranger) and think that’s reasonable way to spend a Sunday.
I logged in from the hotel lobby late last Monday night (Paris time) to see that Katelan had left a draft for me to look over—one more reminder to enjoy myself where I was, and to come back ready to work, which is what, I think, both of us came here to do.
M.C.L.
Apr. 2011
Looking at these photos keeps making me think about Burnt-Norton: “footfalls echo[ing] in the memory…”
(photo by Veronika Von Volkova)
(photo by Veronika Von Volkova)
