Weekend Wrap-up: The Birthday Edition

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What can I say? It had to have been one of the most incredible weekends in the city so far. I was showered with love and happiness in celebrating my 24th anniversary of life on Friday, 10 Feb. The weekend festivities were accompanied by a special visit from a North Dakotan and included:

• Great views of the city

• A birthday morning at Ohm Spa on 5th Avenue, where I was treated to a relaxing hour-long massage, manicure and pedicure!

• A ride up to the top of the Empire State Building to see the Big Apple from a bird’s eye view! So cool.

• Strolls through Central Park and Times Square

• Treats, treats, and more treats!

• An afternoon at the American Museum of Natural History, where the likes of dinosaurs, and every other creature that has walked, crawled, swam, slithered and wiggled across the United States over the past millions of years can be found (not living, unfortunately)!

• Lots of walking without a destination, just to see what’s stumbled upon (my favorite kind of walks)

• Birthday dinner at a lovely Upper East Side Italian restaurant, an all-around classy experience
• Comedy at the Comedy Cellar, where much laughter ensued! Followed by a night out in Greenwich Village
* * * * *
It was a complete unforgettable day — and weekend. I am so happy to have experienced my first birthday in NYC, and also very thankful for all of the kind thoughts, cards and messages I received, and for all the people that made me feel like a trillion bucks as I transitioned to 24! You all rock.
Coming down from the exciting weekend won’t be easy, but things are gradually falling into their happy place here, and I have lots to look forward to…
xo
jc

Someone Else’s Life

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During a work errand today, I had the pleasure of delivering a few packages to a co-worker’s apartment in the East Village. I stepped into the building on 4th and E 12th and knew it was going to be something special.
I knocked and Melissa, a beautiful brunette, swung the door open to reveal a room of splendor. It was a cozy loft filled with charming mirrors of every size, artwork, antique furniture and unexpected embellishments. A thick, fluffy white fur throw was slung over a chair, and a wooden spiral staircase swirled up to a lofted living room. I could have been in a dream. She invited me in, and I silently rejoiced that I’d get to spend a fraction of time in her quaint dwelling.
We began unpacking the several boxes of framed prints I’d brought, and all the while Melissa commented on how disheveled her apartment was, and how much she had to do. When I asked her what the prints were for, she casually mentioned that Vogue Italia was coming tomorrow to photograph the space. She then turned the conversation to me, asking where I went to school. I couldn’t imagine she’d be interested in me, but I told her I’d come from Minnesota, and she seemed delighted, if not fascinated of my transfer. “I kind of moved here on a whim,” I explained. She responded with, “I’d kind of like to get out of here on a whim.”
What?! I had to think about it for a moment. Why would anyone want to leave this behind? Her gorgeous apartment in a snug Manhattan neighborhood, all of her collectables, everything so…
“I mean, I love New York, but…”
We walked back to her bedroom. I gasped. Giant windows stretching to the ceiling and covering more than half of the wall, looking down seven stories below. Book shelves tidy with shoes, art and momentoes scaled another wall top to bottom, with a library ladder for access to the upper shelves. Why would anyone want to leave this?
For those fifteen minutes that I was at Melissa’s apartment, there was a predominant thought in my head: How can I have this? And I found it so strange, so odd that she had exactly what I wanted, and desired to leave it to go elsewhere.
Which brought me to a parallel. The more I thought about Melissa, the more self-reflective and empathetic I became. I had a version of Melissa’s life, only in Moorhead, MN. While she was running a gallery and traveling the world from San Francisco to Istanbul, I was working at a gallery and traveling. While she was meeting artists and shaping her career, I was in school doing just the same. And when she wanted to get out of New York — to be somewhere else and see new things — I left Minnesota and did just that.
I suppose it made me understand, more than usual, that I have a great life. It may not involve a seventh-floor lofted paradise — rather, a fishy-smelling residence in Brooklyn — but it’s brought me somewhere to see new things.
Isn’t that what everyone wants?
—j

Savory Sundays

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What better way to spend Sunday than to roll to the Upper East Side with a friend, stroll around for a while and soak up the vibes of New York City?

I enjoy getting together with my fellow North Dakotan-turned-Brooklynite, Jenny, who I met during an  art history course early on in college. Not only do I like Jenny because she shares my name (she, too is just a Jenny and not a Jennifer!), but because she is genuinely sweet to the core. It’s also nice to have someone around that understands North Dakota without questioning, “North Dakota? Really?” before dismissing it as a figment of geographical lore.

Happy SuperBowl Sunday. I will not be watching the game, but likely leafing through yet another book (I’m on a roll!).

xo
jc

In Review: One Month in New York City

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Believe it (or believe it not), tomorrow marks my first month in New York. And what a splendid month it’s been! I now can say I’ve lived here (and more than in just a tourist sense). I’ve been reminiscing all day about what I’ve gained during the last 30 days. It turns out that this city has instilled within me a tremendous growth—more than I thought possible in month—and given me strength, courage and the audacity to perhaps, someday, leap to even bigger and bolder things.

To put my experiences into a bullet point list really does not relay the lessons I’ve garnered. They are embedded into my mind and most are feelings, not actions. Feelings are the emotions that surface when you see big buildings (awe), or when you’re riding on the wrong subway train (fear), or when you realize you are standing amongst thousands of strangers in Times Square, and you feel peace (happiness). Actions can be put into words: I walked here, or I ate there. Feelings are felt and registered, and not easy to word.

After spending many years in Minnesota, it felt that I was beginning to miss certain feelings. My life was compromised of a rollercoaster of stress and happiness, and there was little room for adventure. My world has since been cracked open and poured out —everything is spilling in front of me, and I’m again gathering what is important, in addition to the things I’m picking up here. I have let go of things—a car, a closet full of clothes, a big bed and all the creature comforts. Everything has been replaced, if not with something new, then with something scarier. To me, it only seems necessary in order to drain the greatest fears from my heart.

I’ve mentioned this story before years ago, but I often revisit the thought. I was alone on a walk one day in England, strolling through the streets of Oxford, when I was approached by a young man. He had a great big afro and by all means looked quite threatening. He began talking to me, and sensing my fear of him, engaged in a great conversation.

He asked my why I was scared. I have no recollection of my response, but he continued talking as we walked. He talked about God and life and his experiences. I remember none of it, except one thing that he told me: You can’t live your life in fear.


I have since been very aware of this. Life is filled with really scary things: people, places, and any combination of a scary person in a scary place. I am simply learning to weed through what is actually scary, versus what is a figment of fear in my head. The thought of moving to a new place, especially somewhere as big as New York, is initially frightening. Every day I am faced with hundreds of little worries that I’ve rarely experienced. Is that man on the corner going to snatch me up? Am I going to get hit by a crazy taxi driver? How do I get out of this shady neighborhood? Is someone going to mug me? When will I find a job? How am I supposed to find my way around this huge city? Do I belong here? 


The truth is, there is not a lot of substance to these worries, and I am merely going through a cultural adjustment that evokes panic. I would never intentionally put myself in a situation that I felt at serious risk, but I will recognize that being here is a risk in itself.

The risk is this: embracing the unfamiliar as a welcomed challenge. It is about being lost, being scared, and realizing that I am actually always where I need to be. It is remembering that no matter what, I am going to have a warm bed to sleep away the day’s missteps and to dream about the experiences I’m having. It’s about a beautiful balance of adventure and safety, and going out of my way to take steps on new ground. And it is always, always about growth — about personal reflection, and about my connection to other people and the world.

Now before I get emotional, I will say this: New York has made me feel immensely sensitive towards mankind. It brings to light people that are struggling, and people that are getting by and people that are all around enjoying life. To me, it is the world within a city. It has heightened every sense, of sound, of sight, of taste. It has opened up my life to acceptance of so many types that I would never cross paths with otherwise.

It has been a wonderful month — and not all wonderful in happiness, but wonderful in challenge and adjustment. In retrospect, it was one of the toughest months for me, but the silver lining is all the fear I’ve alleviated, and the little everyday obstacles that I’ve prevailed against.

There is so much left to understand, and to see; the city is truly my oyster. It’s all very exciting.

Take care & be well —
jenny      

WTC

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The other night it was beautiful in the city — nearly 60 degrees — so after work, I decided to go for a walk. A long walk. I had no destination.

From my building on East 32nd, I walked south. I walked for three miles, until I reached the World Trade Center site. By that time it was dark, and the hustle of the day’s workers had headed home. There was a silence that suspended over the area.

The last time I visited the WTC site was in 2006. I remember a fence with flowers scattered about, and I could look down into the barren pit where the buildings once stood. Crews were at work — as I imagine they had been for five years at that point — and nothing seemed real. I remember looking around and seeing the Wall Street sign, and thinking that I was in a movie.

Even though six years have passed since my last visit, it’s still hard to see progress, and even harder to grasp the concept of a plane flying into the towers in the very air that I was looking up at. While the people around me, those workers that undoubtedly passed by the WTC grounds every day, seemed immune to the scene, I was once again struck. My mind played an imaginary tape of 9/11 as I walked the surrounding streets. The buildings that hug the block of land that once held the towers stand tall, almost protectively, like they lost two brothers.

The memorial rests on one plot; I didn’t get a chance to visit. The new WTC tower is on the rise. It’s shimmering and growing into the sky, some complete, yet quite skeletal. Pinned to a wall near the base is an American flag. There is nowhere to go but up.

An Invisible Thread

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I admittedly, and embarrassingly, don’t read very much. In the past five years during college, I probably put away no more than five books. Sad. For some reason reading has never been a priority, and usually my gnat-sized attention span doesn’t allow for it. But one thing about being here, as I mentioned in a previous post about An Object of Beauty, is there is plenty of opportunity to pick up a good book and feel really good about it. I have totally become excited about books again.

Having mastered the art of reading a thick book while holding onto a subway pole, I’ve decided that reading a paperback book is just too, well, predictable. Today I ventured into the world of e-books! I utilized my Nook app, scoured the e-store of Barnes & Noble, and picked out a delightful work of non-fiction that I’ve quickly become engulfed in.

I’ve been gravitating toward books that take place in New York City. My first read, An Object of Beauty, took place in the city and my new book is no different. An Invisible Thread is an incredible story of a successful businesswoman in Manhattan, and her chance run-in with an 11-year old boy begging for food on the streets. The book prefaces with a beautiful Chinese proverb:

An invisible thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstances. The thread may stretch or tangle, but it will never break.

That got me thinking right from the start, of all the people that have had invisible threads in my life, and maybe those whose lives I have entered as well.

I’m only one-quarter through the book, so I can’t say much more at this point (I should learn to save my book reviews until I’ve finished books, but I just get too excited)! I can tell you now, however, that I would recommend it!

(Not to mention, reading on the iPad is glorious. I am skeptical about taking it on the subway — I can already picture myself dropping it — but it sure makes books seem archaic.)

xo
j

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I woke up this morning and it was pouring rain. Someone on the street corner was having an intense shouting match with another person, while people on the street stopped and stared. There is really no such thing as silence here.

life + art

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I have been seriously stressing over the past few weeks about this artist lecture I needed to put together for a colloquium. The lecture was this evening at MSUM, and I finished this video at 5am this morning (luckily I’m in New York gained a few hours to complete it for a Midwest deadline). 
I really love talking about my work, but I was so nervous to put this together. Sometimes things are hard for me to put into words — here is my best effort to talk about life + art. Enjoy.

xo
j