Elizabeth Murray, Spoonful IV, 2003, monotype, 23.75” x 19”
I used to be an artist living in Brooklyn. I was one of many. For a while, I had a studio in a newly renovated building overlooking a garbage dump. The building was zoned for commercial use. So, despite the apartment-like rebuilds, they could only rent to artists. And rent to artists, they did. The place was crawling with every novel and traditional rendition.
It was around this time that a green Schwinn cruiser was my primary mode of transportation. There was no helmet. Maybe a little headlight. Late nights. Scorching afternoons. Fearless and young, I felt invincible. I exercised a sort of rigorous tolerance of peculiar discomforts. A good example is that stench of garbage being processed across the street, wafting through the studio window to combine with odors of paint thinner and oil paint.
One day, I was riding my bike to Manhattan when a car door opened and hit me forcefully in the chest. While not seriously injured, I had a strong emotional reaction, which then became part of a larger reckoning with my own naiveté. Maybe it was the music I was listening to when I rammed into that block of steel. Somehow, the event provoked an internal turning point.
Soon thereafter, I chained the bike to a pole in my neighborhood. Neglected it, abandoned it, and eventually forgot it. I started to take the G train everywhere.
Inevitably slow but very safe. I was ‘adulting,’ or maybe resigning myself to become someone knowledgable about life’s dangers. The period that followed was undoubtedly more dull. I was a commuter now. My drawings weren’t selling as much they were in the early 2000s and I had a job. Actually, I had more than one job.
On some days my destination was Hell’s Kitchen, a neighborhood in Manhattan. I would take the G to the E; transferring at Court Square. It was an hour long slog. The train was always inevitably crowded. It was notoriously “under run” meaning stopping only every 20 minutes. Some of my fellow commuters seemed just like me; young-ish artists with jobs in the arts. Many many others seemed less like me. Of course, sitting there, slumped, bored, reading, waiting, whatever it was we were doing while on the way, the differences between us all dissolved.
I definitely contemplated this on the way way to work. I wondered if others did too, maybe those doodling in journals on those long rides. Maybe those with sunglasses on, their head leaning back, listening to music. This feeling of shared humanity nearly defined New York in my mind. It was definitely what was implied when I said I said “I love New York.”
On those days when the reverie was a little less idealistic, maybe even self deprecating or stagnant, something would get moving again when I’d exit the station at Court Square. That large and long passageway, was where I’d see “Stream” by Elizabeth Murray.
Spread cross three walls, this glass mosaic was commissioned by the Metropolitan Transportation Authority in 2001. It was produced in collaboration with Miotto Mosaics, Inc.
Elizabeth Murray was born in Chicago in 1940. She attended the Art Institute of Chicago and Mills College for a MFA. Her mother was an aspiring illustrator.
I suspect the visual roots of her chosen forms show an affinity for comics. The shapes could almost be be a morphed abstraction of Popeye the Sailor Man or else, a zeroing in on pictorial explosion in comics, akin to detail in a Roy Lichenstein. While these might be unconscious inspiration, Murray pulls and puzzles forms together expressively. Basic forms are combined confidently. A soft irreverence refusal of conventionalized illustration can be interpreted in her version of these forms. Shameless, personal pizazz without pretense or second guessing. Though she was not part of the “Harry Who?” group out of Chicago, Elizabeth Murray was working contemporaneously. Her individuality and steadfastness has earned her an important place in feminist narratives of the period.
Since, I often find myself scratching away at a piece of paper with while on the phone, or pin pricking an envelope with a pen while trying to get things done, Elizabeth Murray’s work reminds me that in that ceaseless unconscious energy there is boldness and joy. There is no need to self destruct, mask it or hold back. The finitude of life will do that for us.
The said day job in Hell’s Kitchen was with printer Maurice Sanchez at Derriere L’Etoile Studios. I was really lucky to be working there. Galleries pop up and pop out, artists emerge and disappear, it is a sign of rare dedication and expertise that allows a business to survive the ups and downs of the art market. In the 1980s and 1990s, Maurice had made a name for himself by adopting an offset commercial printing press to make editions for artists. Achieving highly saturated color on paper, his printing was exemplary. Not only that, but his relatable, dedicated collaborative approach results in his reputation as a sturdy and authentic support for creative voices.
Maurice had told me a bit about Elizabeth Murray and I had seen some of her prints in his archive. I could tell he was sincerely enthusiastic about her her talent, recalling wistfully that she had passed away at the age of 67. There was definitely a feeling of an artists’ life cut short. She was a creative force compromised by mortality.
I realize now that this aspect of her biography must have mingled with my reflections on her abstractions and re-iterated the lessons I was learning after the bike crash.
Murray’s forms seem to arise from the hand of a creator that was a nurturing force. The forms squiggle and stack into a novel little machine or worldview; expressed unconsciously, trusted implicitly. She dares me to accept that it need not be more than this. But, with an awareness of my own limited lifespan, it should definitely not be less.
So, about ten years after those G train commutes, as a sort of omage to this time and these feelings, I decided to return to my stomping grounds and buy an Elizabeth Murray monotype from Maurice. One of my favorites was still there.
Elizabeth Murray, Spoonful IV, 2003, Monotype, 24” × 19” 60.96 × 48.26 cm
Derriere L’Etoile Studios is now located in Long Island City. When the building announced it would be converted to condos, the press was lifted out of the 7th story windows by an industrial crane. Four decades of business in Manhattan, packed up and moved. Goodbye, Hell’s Kitchen. Hello, Long Island City. A short ride on the G train from where I lived in Greenpoint.
As a Brooklyn girl, Manhattan always held a particular impossibility in so far as the rent goes. So when, I scheduled my trip to visit New York this past year, I decided to stay in Manhattan. I ended up in a neighborhood I’d always avoided! The Financial District, now known as FiDi, was the site of well-known disaster in 2001. The Wall Street area is home to the NY Stock Exchange and identifies itself as the epicenter of global banking. My little artist-self ventured as far as Warren street for Yoga during the aftermath of September 11th, but I really had no reason to go to Wall St, or Bowling Green. This would be really weird, I thought. Right by the monument to September 11th. Where the tourists go.
Interestingly, I really liked it down there. I stayed on a somewhat narrow, and therefore a bit darker street called John. The building was South facing and looked at another windowed facade. All the spaces across the street were active. Night and day. Be it working or living (what really is the difference??). There was no garbage dump in view here.
Over the last 30 years, 17 John St., has been put to work by many corporate conglomorates. During my stay in 2024 it was operated by Sonder Hotel Group. The Sonder team was great. Perhaps a little too great. They filed for bankruptsy in 2025. Sonder has now reinvented itself as a digital travel platform, with a format and function a bit more like VRBO or Airbnb.
As for the lovely 17 John St., the building is now known as an “aparthotel” and has augmented its luxury status with a fitness center and much higher prices. But, who, I’d like to know, was responsible for the design of these elegant spaces? I booked it when it was a Sonder, and we see these sprawling spaces pictured on the 17John website. They are tasteful. A bit artless. Maybe…artful but artless? It’s definitely a trend. But, I am willing to admit, a neutral starting point for the rituals of life always appeals to me - as does a wall on which to imagine a painting or drawing.
“Well,” a long-time resident of the neighborhood told me, “that building used to be The Assemblage.” “The Assemblage?” I said. What’s that? She didn’t really know but said a few familiar buzz words like “co-working” and “community.” Oh, I thought. Fancy ways of collecting the rent. I looked it up and found that it was just that prior to it being a Sonder Hotel. At that time, they were calling it a “cotel.” That would be a co-working space for people from out of town? On another, very related, note, I caught up with some American drama TV last week with “WeCrashed.” A blast from the past, the series follows Adam and Rebekah Neumann through their pre-pandemic Manhattan adventures. Just think, these people are still “re-inventing real estate” with their new project FLOW. More fancy ways to collect the rent!
Since the Covid-19 pandemic, a lot of office buildings in American cities are being transitioned into living spaces. Rental buildings with elaborate home office or co-working options are the thing now. 30-Day stay seems to be falling into it’s own category and, of course, to operate a hotel, one must have a license. I suppose some will go all the way to “condo.” The city will continue to enforce its no short term rental policies. Billionaires will invent new luxuries on rooftops. Friends will keep staying with friends. Daytripping from a number of boroughs, not to mention neighboring states is always a favorite. Everything changes and everything stays the same.
Below is the 9/11 Memorial. In my mind, all the names here connect to all the names elsewhere.
A multitude of weather patterns over this mid-February visit, offered some unique sights. The area was loaded with food stores and public parks. A great place for a coffee or matcha is the Blue Bottle Cafe with a notable view of the new towers. Lots to contemplate. And what a place to do it.