East Side Serenade

Behind the Painting

I passed through the Lower East Side on a Saturday afternoon. Cars rolled endlessly down the Williamsburg Bridge. People gathered in bars to watch World Cup matches. I was drawn to the river. I walked by quiet parks and churches. Under sidewalk bridges and red-orange trees.

I turned down Houston and crossed over the highway. I remembered where I wanted to paint. I'd seen the view a month before, driving up the FDR. It stuck in my mind. The way the towers and the smokestacks caught the afternoon sun.

I rested my canvas on a pedestrian bridge above the highway. Cyclists navigating the narrow path behind me. East River Park was a half torn up construction site. Stacked wood pallets. Soccer played on ballfields. Twisted vines. A few red flowers.

I liked painting between the highway and the water. I felt connected to all those people, going about their lives. I felt like the river could take me somewhere.