Month: April 2019

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Underground galleries (III)—Heritage

This entry is part 3 of 3 in the series Underground Galleries

New York subway lines are marked by numbers (1 to 7) and letters.[1] Old-timers also identify the lines by colors (blue, red, green, yellow. . .) and their routes (8th Ave. line, 7th Ave. line, etc.). The lifeline for my neighborhood is the blue line along 8th Avenue. Several stations on my line are modernized and beautified with new artworks. While the art installations on the Upper East Side are about people, the ones on the Upper West Side are about neighborhoods and heritage. Two of them stood out:

“Parkside Portals” by Joyce Kozloff at West 86th Street and Central Park West Station are mélanges of glass and ceramic mosaics.[2] Looking out from a fast-moving train, they are kaleidoscopes of astonishing colors and shapes; looking from a distance on the platform, they almost have the characteristic of graffiti; looking from a few feet away, they are composites of various elements, each represents an aspect of environments around Upper West Side and Central Park using different materials.

The four larger installations are frames on two sides by aerial views of Central Park and the Upper West Side, inspired by images of Google Earth and reproduced on painted titles—sceneries from each season and from different directions. The center segments, made of ceramic mosaics, have individual themes: One is the landscape of the Conservatory Garden at Central Park, with flowering trees in the background; a few are panels of beaux-art architectural designs; and, most interestingly, one has a map of Seneca Village, showing the dates 1825 to 1857 and the area from West 82nd St. to West 86th—a reminder of the history and the development of the city.[3]

Much further uptown at West 163rd and Amsterdam Ave. Station, Firelei Báez, “Ciguapa Antellana, me llamo sueño de la madrugada (who more sci-fi than us)”[4] is the most cultural-specific creation among the new subway art installations. The station is located in Washington Heights, a neighborhood first attracted German and Eastern European Jews during WWII, and, later, as the younger Jewish generations moved out, immigrants from the Caribbean—Puerto Rico, Cuba and Dominican Republic. Several thematic elements jump out at the viewers: Sugar canes, plantain tress/fruits and trumpet vines represent plants of Caribbean and North America; fists, symbol of Black Power (I noticed a few hamsa hands among them); azbache, black and red; and the mystical feature ciguapa.[5] For viewers unfamiliar with the cultural background of these figures, the vibrant colors of the display brighten up the station; for the immigrant communities, they are celebrations of heritage.[6]

Like most residents of the northern end of Manhattan, I usually rush in and out on the express A train. The beautiful art installations are all on the local stations on the C line. Is it MTA’s way of telling everyone to slow down and take a moment to enjoy life?

[1] Before the establishment of Metropolitan Transportation Authority, the lines were run by various independent companies and thus different naming systems.
[2]2019: Parks Portals
[3] Seneca Village was a settlement of free African American. It spanned south-to-north from W. 82nd to W. 89th, and east-to-west from 7th Ave. to 8th Ave. For those who are not familiar with New York Streets, the Avenues are marked by numbers from east to west—1 to 12. 8th Ave., which marks the western side of Central Park, becomes Central Park West above the 59th Street. Seneca Village was within the designated area for Central Park and was torn down during the construction of the park. Seneca_Village_Wiki
[4] The direct translation of the title is “Ciguapa Antellana, I am called dream of the dawn. . .”.
[5] origin of ciguapa
[6]Craving Spring?

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My cup of tea

On my first flight to the States, the hot beverage for coach class on Northwest fleet was a mixture of tea AND coffee. The taste of this “special” brew was hard to describe. I am glad that it is gradually fading away from my memory. In those days, tea making and drinking in America involved Lipton tea bags, hot water and a mug. Loose-leaf tea was not commonly available. Hardly would anyone ask: “What kind of tea would you like?” Most people’s knowledge of Chinese tea was limited to the low-grade jasmine tea at Chinese restaurants where chop-suey was the top seller.

One of the first thing my family did every morning was to make tea. Like many Chinese tea drinkers, dad preferred green tea to black tea (or 紅茶—red tea). He felt that the natural sweetness of tea was lost during the oxidation process. Even the popular, semi-oxidized 烏龍 Oolong (literally black dragon) did not garner his approval.

Mom has a different kind of appreciation for tea. She used to accompany her grandma to pick tea leaves during summer months. She recalls often the labor-intensive work and all the details that involved.[1] She recalls the simple meals and lodging offered to the workers. Occasionally, for fun, mom would point out how some leaves/stems floated on top—like a fortuneteller reading leaves. We never took it seriously.

I brought some tea with me to the States, but the supply didn’t last long. Soon I found myself searching for something that didn’t need the help of lemon, milk or sugar; something that still had some taste after the first brew. I kept an open mind and started trying everything that I could find at grocery stores. It didn’t take long for me to find Earl Grey. Growing up with green tea, finding any kind of black tea agreeable was a very surprising experience to me.

With a little bit of research, I realized that it was the addition of bergamot oil that attracted me. Chinese people believe in the medicinal value of orange peel tea. When oranges were in season, my parents would clean and dry orange peels around the stove. Even though I found the taste of orange peel tea peculiar at first, I learned to love it. And, I always associate the perfume of dried orange peels to the warmth of a burning stove in winter time.

As tea-drinking becomes a trendy thing, there is a wide-range of varieties on the market. I enjoy tasting 龍井 (Longjing or literally dragon well) and good-quality Oolong. On a cold day, I find comfort in 玄米 (Genmaicha, Japanese green tea with roasted brown rice). I also like to refresh my palate with herbal and floral fusions. Yet, I don’t consider them “tea,” since they didn’t come from tea shrubs.

What’s your favorite tea?

[1] In Taiwan, low-growing tea plants are cultivated in mountainy areas. One often need to bend down while picking tea leaves. Seasonal labors commonly work long hours during harvest time. For good quality tea productions, only the new growth on the tip of the branches— “一心二葉” (one tip and two leaves)—should be picked. In recent decades, usage of harvesting machines has become more and more popular. While it increases productivity, it makes the quality less even.