The fall semester is over, grades are in, and I am taking a little mental break. It has been a while since I posted any iPhone drawings, but then I hadn't done many in a while. Here are a few recent ones; I guess these constitute my purple or violet period, with some more filled out versions of very fast line drawings. (I do the filling out mostly in real time, though.) All are my usual life sketches/portraits, on the various forms of public transportation I take (light rail, PATH, NY subway, etc.). I have yet to sketch anyone on the Newark light rail/subway, though, perhaps because my trip is so brief. I'll have to take it all the way to the end of the line(s) and draw some of the people I see. Newark doesn't lack for interesting subjects for portraits. I also have to return to drawing on the iPad, which has a larger screen. The software for it changed, though, so it's less agile, at least to my fingertips, than the iPhone version.
Showing posts with label light rail. Show all posts
Showing posts with label light rail. Show all posts
Monday, December 23, 2013
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Hoboken PATH Station Reopens
It has taken almost 7 weeks but Hoboken's PATH station, a key portion of its overall rail hub system, has finally reopened, with limited daily service from 5 am to 10 pm, and train service to Manhattan's 33rd St. PATH station. The direct line between Hoboken and World Trade Center, whose line to Newark resumed last week, remains closed.
For New Jersey residents who commute for work or school, or who just want affordable and convenient options to get to New York City, for New Yorkers who work or study on the NJ side of the Hudson, and for tourists who lodge at more economical NJ hotels, to name just three sets of potential riders, the return of service is a boon.
I snapped some photos of the light rail area and the rest of the station, some of which show the tropical storm's lingering, devastating aftermath, while others display the renovations and cosmetic improvements that have occurred over the last few months. I pray the businesses that are still shuttered reopen. Soon.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
For New Jersey residents who commute for work or school, or who just want affordable and convenient options to get to New York City, for New Yorkers who work or study on the NJ side of the Hudson, and for tourists who lodge at more economical NJ hotels, to name just three sets of potential riders, the return of service is a boon.
I snapped some photos of the light rail area and the rest of the station, some of which show the tropical storm's lingering, devastating aftermath, while others display the renovations and cosmetic improvements that have occurred over the last few months. I pray the businesses that are still shuttered reopen. Soon.
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| A decorative tile now gracing the light rail platform |
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| One of the landline phone booths (during the storm the landlines proved invaluable and cell service often nonexistent) |
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| A new sculpture/bench, still inaccessible to commuters |
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| Gulls sunning themselves in tranquility |
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| Inside the railway station (temporary information and ticket booths are visible at right) |
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| The liquor store, still closed |
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| The train platforms, mostly back to regular form |
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| Hudson News, still closed |
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| The grand waiting room, closed off but mostly cleaned and in very good shape |
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| One of the convenience booths, back open, and more ticket trailers |
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| The exposed ceiling heading to the PATH platform looks like it still could use more repairs |
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| Inside the Hoboken PATH station which looks mostly back to normal |
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Normalcy + iPhone Portraits
It has been two weeks since the national and local elections, and three weeks since Tropical Storm Sandy, and I feel, at least in some ways, that life is slowly returning to something approaching normalcy, even if there are still many signs that everyone and everyone around me is still recovering, to varying degrees, from the devastation and trauma the storm wrought. I cannot complain and over all feel very thankful; we made it through mostly unscathed, but for the lack of electricity and heat for over a week. Three graduate students in one of the programs I'm affiliated with, however, lost a great deal of their personal belongings, and one of these students was completely flooded out. I know her, though not well, and feel great empathy for what she and so many continue to face. Every day I read about people who've lost their loved ones, homes and jobs, who are struggling to rebuild and recover, who are not sure how they are going to keep going on, beyond hope and perseverance and and prayers.
The physical damage is still present too, even in Jersey City: lights are still out at some intersections; many small businesses remain shuttered or, once you step through their open doors, have had to tear out walls, shelving, flooring, everything, in an effort to rebuild; and other businesses, having gone days without power and weeks without customers, are hanging on by the most gossamer thread. The garbage trucks have mostly hauled away the first few mountains of rotted drywall, spalted wood, moldy carpeting. Littler heaps nevertheless reappear at curbsides. One local restaurant on Grove St., one of the main commercial downtown strips, though reopened, was still unable to restock just a week ago, and its proprietor nearly started crying as she recounted the challenges she faced. Her emotion, just below the surface, is visible in the faces of so many.
I noted to C how last week, when in Manhattan, I noted a muted, almost wary, melancholy mood on the streets. Some people looked like I have felt: wrung out. I thought it was the rejiggered schedule, the hyperpacked PATH trains, the rationing date schedule, the sense that in the wider world, the storm and its damage have left the news for so much else. (There was the election, which was a burst of positivity in so many ways.) Then I read Jeremiah's Vanishing New York, and he committed to his blog a fuller portrait of what I've detected. Just a quote from his post "Post-Sandy Mood", which I felt could really be titled "Post-Sandy Blues" or "Post-Sandy Blahs," to give you a sense of what he says:
"Tired" is the predominant feeling--represented by the largest type in this word cloud (I collapsed synonyms like "exhausted" into it, as with others). This tiredness is a tiredness that seems to go on and on, for those hit hardest and for those barely impacted. Most of us are tired.
Curiously, no one said they feel angry. They're frustrated and annoyed, resentful and cranky, but what about angry? Anger takes energy, and when you're exhausted, it's not easy to be angry.
Along with feeling exhausted, depressed, and worried, unmotivated and annoyed, many people are also feeling grateful and lucky--for not losing their homes or for just being alive in the midst of loss. Many feel hopeful. Several said they feel empathetic for those who are suffering.
JVNY features word clouds that quite accurately reflect, at least to me, the malaise lying beneath the surfaces of things. Or perhaps not a malaise, but a disquiet. I'm not sure it could fill a book, as Fernando Pessoa once did, but it does feel worth mentioning. Soon enough, it too will pass, though the struggles of so many, Sandy-related and not, will go on, as they always do, without any notice or notation from the wider world. Helpfully he provides links to psychological resources for those still trying to cope.
The PATH trains are running irregularly; the World Trade Center and Hoboken stations are still being repaired after flooding that could easily have appeared in a 1970s disaster flick. One image from the Hoboken PATH station eerily recalled The Shining, though it was salt water, and not blood, that gushed through the elevator doors. (Is "thankfully" appropriate here?) The Exchange Place Station also remains closed. Whenever I envision the volume of water that rushed down its vertiginous stairs onto the tracks below, I get chills. Given the damage, the Port Authority has not offered any predictions on when any of these stations will open. The light rail trains, in Hudson County and in Newark, are running again following their regular schedules, but like the PATH, they are sometimes so full it amazes me they can advance down the track.
In those moments when I am not pressed like a piece of herring in a tin and the trains aren't seesawing around the bend I still try to get in a few sketches. Drawing is a deeply calming, centering, enjoyable activity for me, and has been since I was small. Here are a few very recent life portraits, all on my iPhone, using Sketchbook Pro. I got a stylus with the new phone, but I have yet to use it. I have gotten so used to my fingers working in favor of pen and pencil tips that they've become my default. At any rate, I'll take rocking trains and an altered schedule that requires a bit more pre-planning over having to get in a car and drive on the highway, even if it's a 15-20-minute trip, any day.
The physical damage is still present too, even in Jersey City: lights are still out at some intersections; many small businesses remain shuttered or, once you step through their open doors, have had to tear out walls, shelving, flooring, everything, in an effort to rebuild; and other businesses, having gone days without power and weeks without customers, are hanging on by the most gossamer thread. The garbage trucks have mostly hauled away the first few mountains of rotted drywall, spalted wood, moldy carpeting. Littler heaps nevertheless reappear at curbsides. One local restaurant on Grove St., one of the main commercial downtown strips, though reopened, was still unable to restock just a week ago, and its proprietor nearly started crying as she recounted the challenges she faced. Her emotion, just below the surface, is visible in the faces of so many.
I noted to C how last week, when in Manhattan, I noted a muted, almost wary, melancholy mood on the streets. Some people looked like I have felt: wrung out. I thought it was the rejiggered schedule, the hyperpacked PATH trains, the rationing date schedule, the sense that in the wider world, the storm and its damage have left the news for so much else. (There was the election, which was a burst of positivity in so many ways.) Then I read Jeremiah's Vanishing New York, and he committed to his blog a fuller portrait of what I've detected. Just a quote from his post "Post-Sandy Mood", which I felt could really be titled "Post-Sandy Blues" or "Post-Sandy Blahs," to give you a sense of what he says:
"Tired" is the predominant feeling--represented by the largest type in this word cloud (I collapsed synonyms like "exhausted" into it, as with others). This tiredness is a tiredness that seems to go on and on, for those hit hardest and for those barely impacted. Most of us are tired.
Curiously, no one said they feel angry. They're frustrated and annoyed, resentful and cranky, but what about angry? Anger takes energy, and when you're exhausted, it's not easy to be angry.
Along with feeling exhausted, depressed, and worried, unmotivated and annoyed, many people are also feeling grateful and lucky--for not losing their homes or for just being alive in the midst of loss. Many feel hopeful. Several said they feel empathetic for those who are suffering.
JVNY features word clouds that quite accurately reflect, at least to me, the malaise lying beneath the surfaces of things. Or perhaps not a malaise, but a disquiet. I'm not sure it could fill a book, as Fernando Pessoa once did, but it does feel worth mentioning. Soon enough, it too will pass, though the struggles of so many, Sandy-related and not, will go on, as they always do, without any notice or notation from the wider world. Helpfully he provides links to psychological resources for those still trying to cope.
The PATH trains are running irregularly; the World Trade Center and Hoboken stations are still being repaired after flooding that could easily have appeared in a 1970s disaster flick. One image from the Hoboken PATH station eerily recalled The Shining, though it was salt water, and not blood, that gushed through the elevator doors. (Is "thankfully" appropriate here?) The Exchange Place Station also remains closed. Whenever I envision the volume of water that rushed down its vertiginous stairs onto the tracks below, I get chills. Given the damage, the Port Authority has not offered any predictions on when any of these stations will open. The light rail trains, in Hudson County and in Newark, are running again following their regular schedules, but like the PATH, they are sometimes so full it amazes me they can advance down the track.
In those moments when I am not pressed like a piece of herring in a tin and the trains aren't seesawing around the bend I still try to get in a few sketches. Drawing is a deeply calming, centering, enjoyable activity for me, and has been since I was small. Here are a few very recent life portraits, all on my iPhone, using Sketchbook Pro. I got a stylus with the new phone, but I have yet to use it. I have gotten so used to my fingers working in favor of pen and pencil tips that they've become my default. At any rate, I'll take rocking trains and an altered schedule that requires a bit more pre-planning over having to get in a car and drive on the highway, even if it's a 15-20-minute trip, any day.
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