NFA, or Not For Amateurs

Of course I am biased as an alum myself, but NFA is truly Not For Amateurs.

Theoretical Tennis Courts

In the three years since I have lived in Colonial Terraces, I have never seen anyone on these courts, let alone playing tennis.  That is because they are Theoretical Tennis Courts, where imaginary players constantly play forth 24/7.  The mystery pipe in the foreground (at the edge of South Street near the intersection with Lilly) alerts the casual viewer to the fact that Theoretical Business is Going On.

The Charm of Casual Decay

Where to begin.  Maximum Fitness is at the minimum spot, Advance Auto Parts is sadly in pieces, like a broken windshield wiper (which is what I usually buy at that store), then up top there’s “BIG.  LOTS.” (punctuation mine) and a Family for lease by owner, etc.  Also the famous (to me) Mid-Valley Mall Water Tower, which I have admired since todlerhood.  Water towers I interpret as a sign of a repository of a great many tears.

Value City Memories

Now it’s BIG LOTS, The Closeout Store.  But you can see where it used to be Jamesway in the recent past.  And I can remember back to when it was Value City.  I was in Horizons-on-the-Hudson Magnet School, and it was the 1980s, and the kids in school would make fun of you if you bought your clothes at Value City.  I think I bought a pair of Candies sneakers there, and a pair of pink and white vertical stripe jeans.  Saul Williams, my classmate and friend, made some remark about buying everything at Value City but I forget how this story goes.

Mid-Valley Water Tower

Icon of sadness, steadfast and resolute, silent and motionless save for the wake of tears.  For some reason I always think of Sigmar Polke, but his were watchtowers, not watertowers.

Burger King’s Backyard

It’s the American way of life.  Other countries have cuisines, and we have fast food.  Here is the one on North Plank Road, right next to…

MOM’S Home Style Cooking

Alas, this Mom’s was short-lived as a restaurant, but is fulfilling a very long life as a shrine.  Nobody goes in or out, but there are some curtains in the windows and it almost feels like home.

Prior to Mom’s, for many years it was a Perkin’s, including during the late 1980s when I frequented it with friends.  They did pretty well then, although that was before the crushing competition of the Alexis Diner (previously the Lexus Diner, and prior to that Mr. B’s–with a different layout.)

Cuckoo Mom’s Kitchen’s Closed

I can relate to this kind of cuckoo Mom that says, “Kitchen’s closed, go somewhere else to eat, cause I’m not cooking.  I’m not even dressing properly, or putting the electricity on.”

This is what you get for reading Good Housekeeping as a child and thinking your mother should go on strike.  I guess she did.

Mom’s Grave

Between Burger King and Mom’s.  I guess she didn’t make it too far.  RIP, Mom.

Mom was an Activist

She must have been crushed when John Hall lost, bless her soul.  She is in a better place.  Out of the Kitchen.

Actually I think she was dead before John Hall ran, perhaps Mr. Hall paid his respects at the grave.

Another Mystery Grave

Children, I alert your attention to a second mysterious configuration of boulders in the lot between Burger King and Mom’s.  Can you comprehend the massive amounts of energy it must have taken to arrange these stones like this?  Did the ancients employ slave labor to transport these massive stones to this location?  And what does their arrangement portend, especially in the context of the parking lot stripes on the Burger King asphalt?

Iron Smile

Protruding from the mystery grave is what must unmistakably be a smile shaped from a bent iron rod.  Or perhaps it is a memorial of a giant eyelash, or a cat’s claw.

Mystery of Mysteries

Behold, the mysteries deepen as a random spigot is coming out of a rusted steel drum itself buried in the ground.  Is this grave site actually the water source for Burger King?  Or perhaps some other liquid, such as oil, mercury, whiskey, or whatever else one would have on tap?

Monument to the Fallen Community Activists

We all know people who fit into this category.  You can probably think of half a dozen off the top of your head.  These are the folks who stepped forward to make a difference in the community, in whatever way they thought they were going to do that, but who then switched gears and withdrew from their efforts for undisclosed reasons.

Why they withdrew

Oh, there’s plenty of reasons, futility, frustration, exaggeration, irritation, dietary restrictions, the occult.

Or perhaps they just decided that it wasn’t worth the trouble any more.

We don’t know for sure, because they are gone and can’t tell us, but this monument gives us a way to remember them.

It’s a living monument

Sure, it’s concrete and dead as a doorknob on the bottom, but tactfully selected greenery and earthwork surrounds and embraces this somber monument to labors lost, much as our community webs together to ease the pain and loss of the disappeared.

Monument to Hysterical Speakers

A little further South on River Road, stands this Monument to Hysterical Speakers.  Something Important drove these speakers to take a stand and speak with passion at a public meeting or event, although in time whatever drove the hysteria abated and the speaker melded back into the masses.

This one monument consolidates all those hysterical moments into one physical entity.

Appropriately tagged

The tagger has further embellished the Monument with a hysterical filigree of his or her own.

Lego person iconography

Note that the Hysterical Monument is fashioned into four distinct pieces; the lower part representing the body, the second lowest part representing the head (where the graffiti tag symbolizes speech), the parts above that representing the top of the head/hair/hat.

Shot

Alas, it looks like this monument has taken a bullet, as is often the fate of hysterical speakers.

A soothing end

Although it seems moot to shoot a hunk of concrete as it is already dead, or rather, never lived, at least this monument has a pleasant resting place in perpetuity overlooking the waterfront.

The mural that could not be

Originally there were four murals down by the waterfront, but the third panel was scrapped because it had too much damage.  The fourth panel still stands, although it is blistering off as well.

Speechless, signless, totality

It reminds me of Hiroshi Sugimoto’s movie theater photographs for which he exposes the photograph for the entire duration of a movie, creating an image of ethereal, clear white on the screen, framed by the architecture of the movie theater.

Surprise Natural Mural behind Torches

Along the wall behind the Torches’ parking lot is a minimalist abstract mural, the work of seeping acid and rainwater residue.  Hover before the mural when you get a moment and admire the forms that come to life, bodies and figures lurking in the merging colors and stones.

RIP to the Dead Italian

Further South on the waterfront, next to Billy Joe’s Barbecue, is this building–the number on the building’s front is 12–and this stunning memorial gives us a chance to pay our respects to the dead Italian flag, the living green final stripe never getting a chance as the natural dirty brown cement of the building crushed the incipient colors into smoke.

Another Fine Day in Parking Lot Land

Driving South through the Ferry Parking lot and on to Gully’s, we approach our next curious sculptural artifacts.

Frozen Hug Buddies

What are these unbearably bright yellow structures, lining both sides of the road, defining the space with cheerful exclamation?

Also from the generic lego family,

These are frozen hug buddies, their arms permanently outstretched for a hug.  Although they can never actually bend their arms, and thus hug like a human, the spirit is willing (while the flesh is immobile.)

They’ve seen tough times too

They’ve seen a few scrapes and rusty tears stain their feet.

Occasionally they travel in pairs

On the ground and in the forest, it’s impossible to miss them with their brilliant coloring.

These two lost their arms

But they’re still a couple.

Serious Business

At the corner of South Johnston and Washington Streets is a graveyard entrance.  When I pass a graveyard, I do not always think of the usual association of death or mortality.  Mostly I immediately think of grave and the meaning of that word in the sense of very serious.  I find this more helpful and less morbid.  When I see an especially large graveyard, I think that something must be very, very serious.

Monument to What the City of Newburgh is Trying to Become

This was an old diner at the corner of South Robinson Avenue and South William Street.  I remember being in there when it was open, in the late 80s or early 90s.  After being shut for years, now something–maybe–vaguely–is happening.

Suspended Animation

Some work was done, the top was even opened, but then everything stopped and it’s anyone’s guess as to when work will begin again.  In the meantime, the inside is exposed, which probably isn’t the best thing for this building, whatever it is trying to be.

Newburgh’s Temple to the Black Market

This is where you go when you want to order something that is not on the menu.

The meaning of the arcs

Don’t be so quick to assume those arcs are unhappy faces.  They are simultaneously and more dominantly rainbows.

The blue tongue

Here to help you on your journey is a gigantic blue disabled tongue.  Step on this island of refuge to speed your way on your journey to the inevitable rebuff by the impenetrable Temple.

The number is 97…

…but 98 will never be served.

Generic forbidding random industrial depression

With a side of pine trees, please.

DO NOT ENTER

Yes, it would be painful to try to foist one’s self into a brick and mortar column.

Up front, a dazzling necklace

Of weeds and broken glass, one of many boulevards of broken dreams.

Speechless

When I see a sign without words, I think perhaps the issuers are speechless, incapable of articulating what is beyond words.  In this case, though, the Temple to the Black Market advertises itself with the speechless icon of a gigantic pill.

In the distance, on the hill in the background, is our next site.

The Road to Tears

The approach, looking up Ellis Avenue near the corner with Little Britain Road.

The End of the Dead End

All the way up Ellis Avenue, the road is blocked by a locked gate.

The Specific Location of Where the City of Newburgh’s Tears are Concentrated

Careful.  Restricted Area.  Do not tread lightly.  Do not tread at all.

This bus has been redacted to protect the innocent

Where’s it going?  Nobody knows.  Is it for sale?  Price two rings?

Yes it is.

If you’re looking for a redacted bus, it’s available at Dennis’s on 17K (next to Christmas in America.)

Rear View Bus, Perfect Water Tower

It’s a 4.0 water tower, looking at you, kid.

Miracles of Engineering

Elegant, the tears colored and further salted with rust, somehow floating in the air on spindly legs, it is no mystery that Bernd and Hilla Becher made water towers their lifelong obsession.

Gratuitous Water Tower Picture

Gratuitous Water Tower Picture 2

Gratuitous Water Tower Picture 3

It’s behind this building here

That you can find the water tower, although you can see it from further away than this, towering over the landscape.

This Sign Here Took a Bunch of Bullets

And the rusty tears of pain that go with them.

The Water Tower and the Central Hudson Graveyard

It was meant to be.

Central Hudson’s Mystery Pipes Graves

They are happy enough to be semi-buried together in this lot.  For them, it is like an amusement park.

Play Peek-a-Boo

Through the veil of barbed wire… as nature intended.

RIP, Central Hudson Grave

This Not For Amateurs Tour is over.