Last week police arrested a 26-year-old woman for posing naked for a photographer in full view of visitors in the NYC Museum of Modern Art’s arms and armor wing.
The model is now facing charges of public lewdness though attorney accurately points out that the museum is full of nude art, and to call what the model and the photographer obscene is ridiculous.
The photographer, Zach Hyman (insert peals of laughter here), who directed the shoot, has been getting a fair amount attention around New York recently for his tendency to photograph nude models on subway.
Hyman insists that he’s inspired by nude paintings (what hymen wouldn’t be?), and that his photos are not pornographic.
Since the photographer is getting all of the press and none of the charges, sounds like he hit a marketing gold mine to me.
Can’t Help But Be a Part of It: NY, NY
I took this weekend off from the computer and felt like I was cheating on my blog. To my defense, I was out of town, and when I am, it is no more evident that I should not be leaving my city. Recently I’ve been expressing frustration with New York for months now, but even though I enjoy leaving, I’m not sure other cities enjoy my visit.
Par example: I had to take a shuttle from O’Hare Airport to the hotel at which I was staying. The Native American driver, whom I like to call Chief Molasses Ass, was driving BELOW the speed limit. I had to exert a lot of control over my mouth to refrain from asking whether he wouldn’t mind going a little bit faster (like the speed limit, just for instance).
The driver was too busy engaged in conversation with the other passengers on the shuttle, namely a couple from Rochester and a woman from Ft. Lauderdale. I couldn’t roll my eyes back far enough. I had to turn on my iPod at maximum volume to drone out their meaningless and ever-so-irritating chit chat.
When I was finally the last passenger left, I thought that would get things moving, but no. He wanted to be my private tour guide and insisted on telling me everything he knew about every street, building and anything else we passed. There was only one way out: I faked a phone call and chatted with myself for the last ten minutes of the torturous ride, until after what seemed like eternity, we finally reached my destination.
The point of this story: while NYC tends to be too much, every other city is just not enough: not diverse enough, not cool enough and definitely not fast enough! In short, I don’t think another city is big enough for me and my attitude.
$@bs
Like an asshole I missed my stop on the train tonight because I was too distracted by a game of brick breaker on the new crackberry my company bought me. I was also supposed to go to the gym and flaked on myself.
Why is it I’m so good at keeping my word to other people, but so disappointing when it comes to keeping my word to myself? I should stop making promises to myself or I’m going to stop being friends with me.
