Apr. 19th, 2025

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Morning view:



The plan for the day was the Morgan Library:



The Morgan Library is amazing. I had a pre-paid will call ticket so my admission sticker didn’t have a time printed on it. Admission is timed and you’re supposed to only be there an hour. People who bought admission there had time stamps on their stickers and I heard some stressing about ‘only fifteen minutes left, we only have fifteen minutes’ Meanwhile, I spent a leisurely two hours and did a full circuit of everything twice, even sat for a bit to look over my photos and post to Bluesky.

It wasn’t until I was there and I’d seen the name ‘J Pierre Morgan’ a few times that my brain turned on and I realized this was the collection of JP Morgan, as in JP Morgan Chase. Chase Bank. I didn't know anything about this place, I just looked up stuff to do in NYC, saw one image of the Morgan Library and went 'yes, good' and put it on the list. I figured I'd learn about it there. In addition to his personal library, you can also see his office, his librarian's office, the modern galleries that were added and the large cafe in the center of the space.

His office:



Vault in his office with thick steel walls for his most valuable books:



A few more pics )

There is almost nothing about JP in there, but lots about Belle da Costa Greene, his librarian. She was a light skinned black woman who passed as white for more of her career. The largest exhibit - which runs though May 4 - was on her, her life, showing photos of her and how they were shot to help her pass. So much on colorism. Two whole galleries were filled with pictures and drawings of her, her life, colorism in that era in general. Not what I was expecting to explore for my afternoon, my plan was 'try to get selfie in pretty room', but I was impressed.

Her office:



Her office had a large display of rolling seals - Each cluster is a seal, an actual imprint and then a photo enlarged to show detail:



Belle in her apartment with her personal library:



I was amused by the analog photoshopping, details where painted over to make it pop for print:



While JP collected European and medieval texts, she collected Asian and Middle Eastern texts and fine examples of Persian Script - from her collection:



Very little is know about her point of view on things. Someone was working on a biography of her, but the manuscript was lost? She was authorized to spent up to 100k of his funds on a single book, 100k in 1910 money, so about 3.3 mill. There is a pastel illustration of her at a 1911 auction bidding 50k for a single volume.

In addition to all that, there was yet another gallery of illuminated manuscripts, a stone passageway lead up to an gallery with a display on Kafka:



The hallways between the spaces also has painted ceilings, artifacts, rare book editions, etc.

And then another gallery with an exhibit about how often Medieval books were chopped up, pages treated like art prints, insets removed, etc. This is a painting and the book it was taken from:



A lot of medieval art we have is from books that were chopped up to treat the illuminations as like paintings, or sometimes bindings were removed to make the books cheaper to move over the ages.

And finally a depiction of how why so many valuable books, paintings, statues and other things from all over Europe got concentrated into one NYC townhouse:



I really lucked out with which temporary exhibits I got to see. The one of Belle da Costa Greene was amazing and I wish it was permanent. The two additional medieval book exhibits were great. The Kafka one I sort of breezed through.
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I went to Trader Joes to grab some lunch. This is a picture from halfway through one of the two lines that feed into the main line for the cashiers. When I was finally through I couldn’t see the cashier I was told to go and didn’t move fast enough, so a lady sniped my spot.

Me most of the time: Yeah, I can handle cities. I’m not from NYC but I grew up right near there. The NYC I grew up with was a lot meaner, grittier, more cuthroat than today's NYC.

Me actually in NYC: Help, mean lady stole my cashier!

Since getting food had taken so long, by the time I ate it was getting decently late. So, I decided to change my plans for the rest of the day. I was near Grand Central Station, so I hopped over there. Last time I was there, the ceiling was dark with one light blue spot, like bright sunlight was hitting it. It was the test patch to see if the mural on the ceiling could be restored and if it was still even there.

Today's Grand Central





The train station I remember was a lot different. This article talks about how the ceiling had "half-inch-thick layer of residue from cigarettes, diesel fumes, steel dust, and lead" over the mural and that stone work. Also, "Before the renovation, the Main Concourse was a bit dim, largely because blackout paint was applied to the windows during World War II." Yeah, the windows just weren't cleaned for decades, that was the state of it. That's the train station I remember. Dim light, murals and stone work hidden under decades of grime, the main walkways clear only because during rush hours the sheer mass of people would wear away the dirt leaving only the corners still covered.

From the article, a more familiar site:



Walking into the main concourse today:





The building is amazing with grand stairways and walkways, elaborate stone and metalwork doorways to plain concrete train and subway platforms. There are amazing contrasts and fantastic shots are possible, but I couldn't stay long. I looked over and saw the train to where I grew up, the train my Dad rode on his commute, and nearly fucking lost it. I hadn't been back east since my parents passed. Grand Central is not a place to have a sudden break down so I exited down into the dining hall.

I considered going back to my hometown since I was in the area and likely wont be again, but I knew there was no good outcome. Either I'd feel nothing or I'd be very not okay, and very not okay alone in public. As I know from experience, being emotional in public without someone to act as a buffer can lead to bad shit.

Then I went back up to the main hall and decided I should go. However, being an idiot I decided to leave by going into and through the Met Life Building and then through the Leona Helmsly Building (it's still really called that? amazing):



I walked my Dad's commute to his office building. It's a weird commute. Outside of cutting through two other buildings, you start on on a wide street with massive, recognizable buildings... and then turn down a narrow cross street where most of the sidewalk is subway grating. Just, thin metal mesh over a portal to hell or something that stretches the entire length of the sidewalk and the lion's share of the width. Underneath the trains are making noise, up on the street the metal is making noise as you walk and it moves a bit, and subway exhaust just blows up at you from under your feet. I used to hate having to walk over that, especially at rush hour as a kid because I couldn't see where I was going, I was just being pulled over something that didn't feel solid enough to be walked on, and also there was all the sounds, vibrations and the gross, warm air.

I found the building he worked at, looked over at the buildings I used to look down on from his office, and then decided it was time to head back to my hotel for the night.

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Oliver Moss

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