Elliott Erwitt has spent a lifetime documenting the United States and his work now stands as a testament to what it means to be American. From grandstanding politicians and celebrity culture to cinematic vistas, Erwitt’s vision of the nation manages to be both unique in perspective and universal in influence. Here, he captures a New York City scene in 1950.
Farewell to Smith’s Bar on 8th Avenue at 44th Street in Times Square
I stopped by Smith’s Bar last night to pay my respects. After tonight the corner of 8th Avenue and 44th Street will go dark and Smith’s will close. The bar itself has been a loud, TV-filled standard-issue kind of a place for a while now, and I didn’t venture inside last night, just circled around trying to get the perfect shot of the sign, which has seen better days. Even partly lit, though, the sign is a gem.
The last time I was inside was to meet writer Raffi Katchadourian for the start of our whirlwind tour of New York neon, which led to his wonderful “Talk of the Town” piece about Project Neon in the July 2011 New Yorker. I think that’s still my proudest Project Neon moment.
The Smith’s sign is a sore loss, and I can only hope someone with a love of neon takes over the space and restores the sign. The lettering of Restaurant above is fantastic — look at that great S! — and the curves of Smith’s are unique. I love the tip on the capital S, the cursive curves, and how the dot on the I and the apostrophe echo each other (when the sign is fully lit). And you can’t go wrong with a classic pink BAR sign hanging over the sidewalk.
New York City loses a little luster tonight. Farewell, Smith’s. You will be missed.
Despite my better judgment, I went to see Significant Other, the new play by Joshua Harmon that recently transferred to Broadway from Roundabout, this past Sunday with my significant other, my best guy friend, and his significant other. I saw this shortly after I met J in 2015 while it was off-Broadway and it hit me hard in the emotions. I walked out of the Laura Pels thinking Gideon’s character surely killed himself after the lights went down. And to be honest, I kind of wanted to kill myself after the lights went down on Sunday afternoon, regardless of my relationship status. My friends concurred.
I want to start by saying that Gideon Glick is brilliant as the protagonist Jordan, a late twenty-somethings city-dweller. He gives a flawless performance of an extremely flawed character. He has genius comedic timing and I was exhausted watching him exert himself onstage for two and a half hours(ish). I would watch this guy read the phone book because he could make it entertaining. He has monologues that are pages long but he makes it look effortless.
Sas Goldman, who plays the first bride of the night Kiki, reminded me in a weird way of Tracee Chimo in Bachelorette. But in a totally good, weird way. Lindsay Mendez plays a wonderful best friend to Jordan, Laura, who gets caught up in wedding madness when she finally gets engaged. She was able to be strong even when hurt by Jordan’s page and a half tirade on the evening of her bachelorette party. And, last but not least, Rebecca Naomi Jones is the hilariously dark Vanessa who gives no fucks about anything until the day of her wedding.
The men in this show are not at all the focus. Hence why two actors play all six male characters (in addition to Jordan). John Behlman and Luke Smith both do a lovely job playing the various boyfriends and husbands and coworkers of the four main characters.
Because of its incredibly depressing tone, and it’s suicide-inducing ending, I’m not sure it’ll find it’s audience on Broadway, but I know that a lot (most) people could probably relate to Jordan’s feeling of being alone and feeling hopeless. There are lots of parts to make you laugh, and many to also make you feel all the feels. Like any good play should.
revision: I photo-shopped this the other day after noticing the James dean and Liv Tyler pictures. obviously Liv Tyler’s picture was a homage to James deans, and I thought it would be apt to try and mix the two and Yeah it works.
Once, Times Square was the seedy underbelly of New York - now, it’s an amusement park where you hardly ever see a topless woman showing her breasts in public.
