Too hot to smile
Yesterday I went to Greenpoint to get ice cream, but the ice cream shop I wanted to go to was closed. Devastating. Then I realized this was New York and there is plenty of everything everywhere. I was walking to P.S. 1 anyway, just across the Pulaski Bridge, and of course there was a brand new ice cream shop just along the way, on Jackson Ave, called Malu.
The owner was behind the counter, friendly and sweet, and her husband was in the back making chocolate. Working at WORD for nearly a year now has triggered my latent instincts to talk up small business owners. Also I have the chit-chatty Midwestern background, and am the daughter of small business owners, not to mention I had pretty much every retail high school job on the planet, from yogurt swirler to pharmacy counter girl, back when this country was plentiful in jobs for high schoolers. I like the stories of these courageous, rugged, slightly nutty (in this economy, etc) individuals. You think I might be joking, but the work never stops. Even (or perhaps especially) in a homemade ice cream shop.
Anyway we chatted about how they would keep their business going in the winter (hot chocolate and homemade marshmallows, obviously), and she even invited me to give a reading there which was very fun to think about for a minute after I left, me and my dirty books in the ice cream shop, offending everyone who had simply stopped in for a cup of Banana Bonanza. But the most interesting thing we discussed was her ice cream education. She had studied with Malcolm Stogo, International Ice Cream Consultant, who has an Ice Cream University, because of course he does. He invented the chocolate dipped waffle cone! What the hell did you invent? Nothing, that’s what.
The ice cream was delicious, by the way, and I’m not just saying that because it was ninety freaking degrees out, and I had been walking for a while in the sun.
Then I went to P.S. 1 and saw the Laurel Nakadate and Ryan Tecartin shows. I wish I had more to say about these shows. I do not mean to be dismissive at all of their work. I certainly enjoyed being overstimulated on a hazy summer Monday, and perhaps I have just not been able to process it all yet. They were an excellent counterpoint to each other, as Trecartin’s installation was all crazy manic flashiness (watch some of his videos here), and Nakadate is a half-naked, moody, quiet, sexpot in her work. They both have a specific voice and vision, which they successfully conveyed. They are young and brilliant and attractive. They like to fuck with their audience. I felt uncomfortable at various times over the afternoon for different reasons. I know that discomfort is good when it comes to art. I felt inspired enought to write down a few lines, my favorite of which was, “I have been a CEO since birth.” All of these are good things.
But my soul did not feel altered one way or the other by their work. The ice cream lady, and her shop with all the tiny tables for children, meant more to me. I could have just stopped there, only I needed the art to throw the ice cream shop into relief.
+++
I wrote about where I live/write for Write Place, Write Time, and you can read that here. Also I recommended you listen to the Just Kids audiobook over on emusic. And finally, I don’t think I ever linked to this, but I interviewed Kate about gossip and music at emusic as well.
