Simple Cafe

Up until about October, I hung out here some. Beret’s Simple Cafe. They served very good food, upgraded pub grub with an eye towards vegan and health. Because of a health issue, I’ve had to be on the wagon, something that has been going on since October, so I had to take a break from spending time here. Closed up sometime during the Fall seems like. Had a bartender named Kerri, really nice person. She was swell. The owner fancied berets, said he was a vegan, from New Mexico. Neighborhood joint. Friendly, bohemian vibe. No air conditioning, often a downside but sometimes gave the more mild summer nights a sensual, tropical ambiance. I’d go on a weekday. Sometimes it was really dead. The recession. Other times, pleasant and lively, clean well-lighted place. The local artists would hang out there some. Like other bars, it did the gallery thing, showcasing local artist work, once a month, new paintings on the wall. They also only had one television, only one and sometimes it wasn’t even on. It wasn’t behind the bar. You could actually go to a bar and not be forced to look at a television set. TV screens have become so ubiquitous that we no longer are aware of them. Except me I guess. Anyway, it was a nice scene going on there. Sometimes they seemed to be hitting some rough times, a couple of weeks they had no bourbon! I rediscovered Pabst Blue Ribbon in cans, which they sold for a mere two bucks per. But like I said, I had to go on hiatus as a regular so I didn’t keep up with updates. Their myspace page was last updated in October, said they were closing on Monday and Tuesday. Never a good sign. Neighborhood places tend to have a hard time in Jersey City, there is not the same dining out and drinking out culture here that you find in Hoboken or Manhattan or other places. Places here come and go, a lot of turn over. Maybe it’s the clientele, maybe folks in Jersey City when they feel like going out leave town. They go to Hoboken or Manhattan to exploit a better restaurant and bar culture. Thick brown paper taped over the windows of the Simple Cafe. It’s not boarded up. No for rent or for sale sign are visible. The outside furniture is still in place, A peak in the window reveals everything else intact. I get a whiff of sudden departure, but I know nothing about it. A call to its phone number says it has been temporarily disconnected at the customer’s request. That is hopeful. I took this picture on Saturday when the first snow started falling. A cold afternoon rain turning to wet snow. Can’t really see the snow, just cold dampness. Pictures can be deceiving I guess. Rain and snow fell on what used to be here.

Keep Hope Alive: www.myspace.com/beretssimplecafe

Aspasia Christmas Express

Well, I love trains so no one should be surprised that my favorite Christmas decoration is the model train beneath the Christmas Tree.

Aspasia’s Boutique on Grove Street, sells women’s fashion and accessories. A funky little store, with designer clothing that seemed both chic and comfortable, a vibe that somehow sounded both Mediterranean and Los Angeles notes. The sales person, who was alone when I happened by, was very nice, attractive and lovely. She wasn’t too sure about letting me take some pictures from inside of the train. I implored and assured her that I would not move a thing, just lean over with modest disc camera.

She told me, although the store has been around about two and a half years, this year was the first one for the train.

As tradition seems to dictate with the min-Polar express beneath a tree, the dreamscape created here is of a Christmas Town, winter in full bloom, and everyone feels cozy and Santa Claus’s arrival is imminent. Childhood joy epitomized in this innocent, happy Christmas Town. Snow men dance, all the canes are made of candy, everyone is drinking hot chocolate. Horse drawn sleigh. I digress.

The Aspasia Boutique train was as classy as the store. An attention to detail—not just the New York Central Steam engine, or the cute little tastefully wrapped presents, but the very clever transformation of one coal car transformed into an open air Aspasia freight car. Cute & Cool!

Having a successful retail establishment in Jersey City—something beyond the run of the mill bodega—is not that easy. Business folks complain about the challenges—the economy, the bedroom community attitude that pervades, the Mall and the Super Stores close by down Pavonia Newport way. Then again, it seems that Aspasia’s is the only store to do something creative and exciting in terms of Christmas Window Display. Nothing in the world may rival Fifth Avenue or Macy’s window, but how many stores even try, or go beyond lights and some garland. Pretty useless to declare a downtown shopping district when most store windows at Christmas time look as drab and dreary as they do the rest of the year. At least one downtown boutique has a contrary attitude. All Aboard!


Aspasia's Boutique
302 Grove Street

201-432-7600

http://www.aspasiasboutique.com/

“4th Street Murals @ City Hall”

The name of the show was “4th Street Murals @ City Hall,” reportedly consisted of murals created at the 2009 4th Street Art & Music Festival and on display at the City Hall Rotunda Gallery. Hey, how many municipalities can claim an art gallery in City Hall? Or maybe, it was a gallery before someone came up with the bright and very righteous idea of displaying art there.

Words are funny things sometimes. Actually, only a few words are actually funny things, the definitions of words however, that’s a different funny things story. The generally accepted definition of mural as I understood it, was art painted on a wall. Earliest murals were cave paintings by our Cro-Magnon progenitors, but you can’t believe everything you read on the internet. I had heard bits about the mural project, figured maybe it was a start of painting more murals on the sides of buildings and other structures in our fair city. That still might be true. At the city hall show, I couldn’t find the word mural anywhere—no sign, nothing on the measly flier. These weren’t hunks of walls, but large canvases by “Jersey City” Artists. The deal is they were all painted at the festival, and considering the dreary rain of that day (followed by a great concert to cap it off), it’s pretty remarkable the artists pulled off this stunt successfully. Maybe they weren’t technically murals—or maybe there was some confusion and the mural project is something else—but placing the large canvases side by side, filling up large portions of the rotunda walls, accomplished a mural effect and feel.

A stroll through the rotunda—the show is on two floors—provides an excellent overview of the array of the current state-of-the-art being produced in Jersey City (and one assumes Hudson County and various environs). Is there a Jersey City school of art? A feel, a look, a common tendency, a set of shared philosophies that can be construed to signify and objectively symbolize the human condition in this unique post-industrial urban landscape? The short answer is, no.

The only thematic linkage of these pictures that came to me was a sense of humor. Everyone of them makes you smile, even the ones that seem dark. I also noticed a blurring of distinctions. Most of the work combined illustration with the color, light and line techniques found in abstract art. Elements of graffiti and “found art” were present but not overpowering. I’m not competent enough to state whether discarding art boundaries of yore is unique to our artists or to contemporary art nation-wide We live in a mash up culture anyway some say. The blending of styles within each painting not only indicates considerable talent but a clever attitude. Most of the paintings had a dominant color; the images on the canvass seemed more formed by shades of that color, perhaps that was a side effect of the performance art aspect of the art—all the paintings being done as part of the festival. Murals? Large Canvases? Heck, why get hung up with definitions. The show was featured on two floors of the rotunda. I went on Friday, around 5:00 (left the day job a tad early), no one was around except for the security guard. You would think, on opening day, somebody might be there to answer questions, give some guidance. It was JC Fridays after all, our fair city’s much promoted “Free” art event. If somebody was there to answer questions they might have explained why there were 32 paintings listed as part of the show; 32 paintings produced as a result of the painter event component of the 4th Street Arts Festival. But there seemed to be only 20 or so on display. I asked the security guard about it when I left and she said, she had no idea about the art, that it was the cultural affairs department, and they had all gone home. You know, the city is showing support for the arts to have a security guard, paid for with our tax dollars, so there is a space to display art. Perhaps on opening night the arts community might be able to cough up somebody to answer questions, or encourage interest. Maybe they did in the afternoon, or maybe they’re there for the reception (there didn’t seem to be one for this mural show). Is the problem with the organizers of JC Fridays, or the people of Jersey City. I was alone in the rotunda. Is there simply a lack of interest? Or is the art community a little too clubby and insular? Since I was the sole appreciator of the art, it’s unreasonable to demand that the art community have folks there for my benefit. It also is sort of silly to propose that having somebody there would have increased attendance. But sometimes it sure seems that the city is the one making an effort to support and promote art as part of the culture and the art community and the community at large are indifferent to the efforts. Both sometimes seem to lack appreciation of that effort or are simply unwilling to reciprocate with active and earnest participation.

What is a mural? Where are the missing pieces? Unanswered questions and uncertainty. I’m use to that by now. Instead I got to dwell on the contradiction of the rotunda art show. Arts need gallery space, they want to be seen. To be seen is to sell, and indeed the art was for sale with contact info for sales available (sales may be better served if somebody was there to answer questions). It is a good thing there that walls of city halls are used for art. In fact, I love going to city hall. The Jersey City Hall. It’s a cool old building with real WPA feel to it. It is what it is—bureaucracy, civil service, we the people. Good Government, in aspiration if not in practice. On the other hand, the lighting is awful, and the building and its purpose too distracting. Not optimal for art is an understatement—the rotunda is not conducive at all to thinking about the art you are seeing. I couldn’t dwell on what the artist was saying, or consider what influence the art festival had in the art in front of me. Instead, I was thinking what is a mural, where are the missing pieces, why is the art community unwilling to have an ambassador to those not in the club? Or, is Heally really different than Mcann?

Living in Jersey City has always meant resolving its contradictions either by celebrating them or denying them. Sometimes celebration is denial.

Rob & Linda

Sidewalks are not forever, but love is even if the partners change. Rob & Linda, where are they now, a year later, one wonders. Will their love last until this sidewalk is street scaped away. I think this was on 5th Street, I think it was 5th, between Jersey and Coles. Maybe it was another street. I know I probably walk that stretch of block weekly, but never noticed this before, never thought about it, the tiny gesture of romance. A decleration for all to see. Sweet, old fashioned, ever lasting. Love’s perpetual search for wet cement.

Thanksgiving Football

No, these aren’t Kennedys and this isn’t Hyannis Port. Just myself and my older brother and three of my nephews tossing around the football in the backyard of the house where I grew up on Thanksgiving day, a scene that occurs on the Last Thursday of November in yards, streets, parks, across America. You’re not playing football, you’re playing argue ball, Dad would sometimes shout. We used to play football a lot in the backyard, not 11 per side that’s for sure, but my brothers and other boys from the neighborhood. A bunch of us. The yard seemed so immense back then, when I was young and small, unbelievable that we could actually pretend it was an entire field. The old man was right. We didn’t have a referee. Quibbles and bickering erupted constantly. I’m not off-sides, you’re off-sides! Touch football, sometimes tackle. Dad was making the point, shut up and play. Shut up and have fun! Watching football on TV bores me to tears, but of course it was on the set for much of the afternoon. Avoiding football on Thanksgiving simply takes too much effort and is vaguely un-American, but what can be better than tossing around the football, blood on blood. My brother and I had memories of the backyard games. My older nephews mentioned nostalgia for their now long ago High School football teams, actual helmets and shoulder pads and school spirit, genuine and sincere. The youngest nephew is 12 and says that next year he wants to go out for football. Memories of football from different decades, hopeful premonitions of football yet to come. The football spirals… comforting chill.

Walk Up Lotto

Walk Up Lotto in Washington Heights. I’ve been informed that Bob Dylan technically did not play Harlem but Washington Heights when I went to see him perform recently, but shoot Harlem sounds better. I was taken with this though. The walk up lotto window at the St. Jesus Pharmacy. Heck, we have drive through ATM’s and Dunkin Donuts, why not a drive through Lottery Dispenser. Because it’s crass, because gambling is a deceptive way to balance the books of municipalities? Maybe because, while vice should be legal, it shouldn’t be sanctioned or encouraged? On the other hand, a walk up Lotto cuts down on the lines that can crowd a store, especially when you need to just buy a newspaper and a candy bar. A friend who lives in Westchester tells me that the Walk Up Lottos are becoming quite common. Heck, they’re probably in New Jersey already and I just don’t know it. Do you want Fries with your Pick Six?

Winter Morning Light

Pay no mind to the city clock on the corner, it hasn’t been fixed, again. The time it shows is correct in another reality. In ours, it’s about 7:00 AM on the first morning of December, the last month of the last year of the first decade of this new century. Jersey City gets great light sometimes. Perhaps that’s why there are so many painters here. My secret theory about the light is because we’re an isthmus. We’re basically brackish lowlands. Our light is distinct from the Island of Manhattan, or the surrounding swamplands of Hudson and Essex County. The sun emerges from the edges of the buildings in the horizon, clouds crack apart. Sunbeams shift in the sky, form planks of shadows on the street. Thin, fragile branches of the newly planted trees, now leafless, sunlight seems to curl around the bare sticks. Winter Morning Light. I noticed it for the first time this season today. Quiet light, isn’t it?