Museum day today. Carrie settled on the Met, which I thought was pretty sensible. We took the train uptown, and spent most of the afternoon up there. We wandered through the Egyptian Galleries (which are always impressive), among others. It was good to see Balthus again. I got reprimanded for shooting a Vidster movie in the Calatrava exhibit. Somehow I missed the sign saying no. In any case, you can see the video here. And we especially liked the photography show The Perfect Medium: Photography and the Occult. The photos were really lovely, in the raw, home-made way I like so much. And they had an ingenuousness to them that I found awfully appealing. That was certainly lacking from the wall-copy, which I carefully avoided. But a movie grew in my head as I walked through the show. And Carrie said the same thing as we walked out. So it's decided, then, to make one. I got a copy of the catalog (which is lovely, if rather dear) as we left. And immediately started thinking about staging the production of ectoplasm. Carrie didn't seem too thrilled about the idea of spitting up fatty cotton wool... But, oh! What we sacrifice for art. Maybe I should volunteer for that shot. Anyway, we walked through Central Park, got pretzels, saw the west side, went back to H&M, then took the train to Fort Greene to see Carrie's friend Jasmine (pictured), who she hadn't seen in awhile.
We hung out with Jasmine for the rest of the night. Landing at a bar Muhammad Ali used to frequent. Then Carrie and I took the G train home. And it was as slow as ever. Here you see her waiting in the station, during our unexpected (and all too common) layover in god-knows-where Brooklyn, contemplating the unusual rapidity with which one's fingernails get soiled in NYC. Ah, the quotidian pleasures of the city. Carrie concluded all that fingernail dirt explains the preponderance of painted fingernails among New York women. Could be.
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