As the Metro-North train heads north, we leave the New York City skyline behind, and now I can see the Hudson River flowing in the opposite direction. All travels feel like a space in between, between here and there, between NYC and the DIA Foundation.
I allow myself to daydream as time folds and unfolds around revisited places, years apart. The train wagon is almost empty, and Manuel reads next to me. It is warm, cloudy with scattered thunderstorms. As my inner time expands, memories fill the present moment with another visit to the DIA Foundation.
It was so cold back then, was the Hudson River even flowing? I don’t remember, but I clearly feel the presence of Alice, my dear and beautiful late mother, warmly wrapped in her furs, surrounded by a joyous young crowd of some of her grandchildren, Manuel’s nephews, and some friends. What a great idea it was to bring them to New York. Some of them are now filmmakers, young executives, vascular surgeons, welders, air hostesses, and so on. We are immersed in the same world, but age and experience provide such different perspectives. I am happy to still have them around to infuse my view of the world with their youthful freshness.
I wonder, what did they think of their visit to the DIA Foundation back then? Did it hold any special meaning for them?
As my mind was wandering in the present-past, the arrival to Beacon was announced. The walk from the train station to the museum is short and easy. No signs yet of fall in the lush green of Upstate NY.
We were again delighted by the compressed cars of John Chamberlain and the huge iron sculptures of Richard Serra, creating inviting dancing spaces. There were also new exhibitions, and we were pleasantly surprised to find Louise Bourgeois’ giant spider standing in a corner room on the upper floors. Years before, we had seen one of the spider’s legs being repaired at the Modern Art Foundry.
On our way back to New York, a heavy thunderstorm fell on the Hudson River while we were standing on the train station platform. But back then, on the trip with my mother and all those teens, there was so much snow. As the train arrived just in time for us not to get all wet, I turned around and smiled at the images being played in my mind of the snow fight we had back then.
We felt content with our day, now traveling back to the city by the river. My heart filled with both fresh and past memories. I opened my book on Neurowaves, the brain, time, and consciousness. Was it this book that allowed so much unfolding of life?
Galeria de Imagens
Fotos de Manuel Rosário e Minnie Freudenthal
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It was just starting to rain when we walked into the Foundry. It had been an October summery week in NYC but that morning the rain and early morning traffic made us feel uncertain about getting there on time for the 9am bronze pouring. Pascale smartly found her way from Manhattan