Rubber and Ice

We exited our station after 1 am, which is highly unusual for us, but this time because we had just come from a free, NYC premier of a movie called Rubber, by a French filmmaker I cannot recall, at the IFC. The visual idea of a tire rolling through the desert landscape was mine, created over ten years ago in the Chihuahua Desert, and completely unknown to this filmmaker. The proof is in a box of Polaroids and on old vhsc cassettes. He took it in the direction of slasher movie and I took it nowhere, but that, my friends, is another story. 

Upon leaving the station I was suddenly quite stunned by the landscape all around me. I do not use the F line much anymore, favoring the more steady and direct B line, so I hadn't seen the landscape transformed by the snow and ice until just then, illuminated by the yellow sodium lights of night.

The spot in springtime

As is usual, and always a mistake, I did not have my camera, because of its ancient bulk and weight, and I regretted it immediately, yet I was also unwilling to return because of the cold, the hour. The landscape was one of hummocks and greasy shine, slick in appearance, as if the snow top had been burnished or oiled and polished. It was beautiful, but creepy.

After skating home over icy asphalt, I decided to head out front in the quiet of early morning to take some shots of our own slick snow mountains. The shine is a crust and quite fragile to the touch. My street scape lacks the power of the overpass park (as I call it), but hints at the total quality.