Journeys in New York – The Mosaic Man, East Village

The East Village in NYC is an exciting and vibrant place, full of fashionable boutiques, small bakeries, pubs, restaurants, ice-cream parlours, yoga teachers and bookshops (one of which opens until 12 at night!). Walking along St Mark’s Place, you can’t help but notice the mosaic art work that has been attached to the lamp posts along the route. Who was responsible? It took weeks to find out, and then one day, there he was, working away on a piece that I’ve titled ‘Watch out for Cat.’ The artist is man called Jim Power, aka, The Mosaic Man. He is probably in his early to mid-sixties, although it is hard to tell. He wears denims, a tee shirt, a long ponytail, and he now has an electric scooter to aid his travel. Power told me that he’d emigrated to New York from Waterford in the late 1950s. He’d worked in the Carpenters’ Union, and had some hand in building the original Twin Towers. When he first arrived to New York he played rock and roll music, and discovered a latent talent for building domestic details, but on a very large scale. He proudly recounted several tales, one of which involved building an enormous stone fire place that “the the Vikings would be proud of” in twenty four hours. According to the artist, the fireplace was over ten foot high. It sounded like something you might see in a Norman tower house.

Moving from large scale to small detail seems to have been easy for Power. Having moved into the East Village to live, he thought that the area needed “something to brighten it up.” He began working on his mosaic lamp posts twenty eight years ago, completing over seventy over the years. But mosaic is fragile, and susceptible to the changes in weather; several have all but disappeared. There are now about twenty left, and Power is intent on rebuilding those that have been lost. His plan is to dedicate the new and the refurbished mosaics to lost friends and to others who seem deserving of the accolade. He’s an interesting man to talk to – open to questions, and happy to tell anyone about his dedication to art, and the importance of his art, and indeed, all art, in public places. He keeps a Facebook page, and a blog page – have a look –

While I was taking the photographs of Power’s work, several local people stopped to speak to me. They were pleased that I was so interested in ‘The Mosaic Man’. The neighbours watch out for Power; they are genuinely fond of him, and of his work. He is very much part of the East Village. He is ‘their’ mosaic man.

I asked Jim Powers about his family – he said they were from Waterford, or near perhaps, to Kilkenny. One of his grandmothers’s won an Irish dancing medal in 1916 – a Miss Rolleston. She was, he assured me, the first person to embroider an Irish dancing costume. “Was she on your father or your mother’s side?” I asked. He looked at me with his twinkling eyes, swimming, as they were, in a sea of weather beaten leather. “Do you know”, he said, “I can’t remember.” He didn’t seem to mind his lack of ability to recall that detail – he was inordinately proud of her anyway. One thing seems certain – he surely got his eye for colour, decoration and appreciation of form from his Irish grandmother of long ago, who, one imagines, danced her way to her hopes and dreams in Ireland in 1916. She’d be very proud of her grandson, Jim Power, aka, The Mosaic Man. The people of the East Village are very proud of him too.

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Journeys in New York – a museum, a history lesson, and the red carpet


A visit to the Museum of the City of New York was well-worth the walk from the metro station at East 103rd street. I was invited to attend an evening of talks there, but they didn’t begin until 6pm, so I had ample time to look around the exhibits. Housed in a nineteenth-century mansion facing Central Park, the museum is home to an eclectic and ever-changing series of exhibitions. The day I visited there was a fascinating show of psychedelic fashions from the 1960s and 70s by designer Stephen Burrows. Think 1970s dance music, and blocks of primary colour – and you’ve got the idea. They even had the right music playing in the background. From one end of the spectrum, ‘staying alive’, to the other, meeting ‘the dead’ – also on view was an extraordinarily well-designed exhibition titled A Beautiful Way to Go – all about New York’s famous Greenwood Cemetery. In between there was Activist New York – an interactive exhibition that explores the history of social activism in the city. Something for everybody so –

The series of talks that brought me to the Museum of the City of New York were a complete revelation. The theme of the night was the ‘draft’ riots, which took place in and around 5th Avenue and 43rd Street area over a few days in mid-July, 1863, during the American Civil War. Suffice to say that it was a humbling experience to sit in an audience in New York listening to history from a whole new perspective. The picture above illustrates one of the most infamous attacks that took place during those boiling hot days in mid-July 1863 – the attached link gives the story –

The following day, on my way to New York Public Library, I came out of Grand Central to find that a red carpet had been laid along 5th Avenue! I kid you not – the street was closed to traffic, and the road was covered with a red carpet for a parade – photograph of which can been seen on

The entire area was fenced off, there were police everywhere, and hundreds were gathering to see the action. That was at 9am in the morning. By 5.30pm the carpet was gone, 5th Avenue was open, and you’d never believe that anything had happened at all, not least that the street looked something like a film set just a few hours earlier. I found myself deep in thought as I looked around 5th Avenue that evening, and the talks that I’d attended at the Museum of the City of New York came to mind. It was in and around the same area, and in mid-July, that the aforementioned infamous attack took place in 1863. History makes life far more interesting.

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Journeys in New York – a trip to Beacon along the Hudson River

I took a trip on the metro North line from Grand Central Station in New York City to Beacon, a lovely town about eighty miles north. The train skirted the route of the Hudson River, and the views of the local landscape were astonishing. So too, the views of the many iron bridges that span the river along the way. The entire area is well-recognized for it’s architecture and engineering, and for anybody interested in bridges, as I have always been, a journey along the Hudson is not to be missed:

The Hudson River is famous for it’s history, especially with regard to the War of Independence. In April, 1778, a group of American Revolutionaries managed to string a cast iron chain across the river at West Point (famous for the West Point Military Academy). It sounds easy, but that chain was very heavy. Dubbed ‘General Washington’s Watch Chain’, it served it’s purpose well – no British ship managed to get through the unusual defensive strategy, and the stories of what happened to the chain subsequent to the War of Independence are legendary – see

The town of Beacon is home to Dia:Beacon – an extraordinary art gallery dedicated to abstract art and sculpture. The gallery is situated in an enormous building that used to house a Nabisco cracker factory, and is surround by luscious green grass and acres of trees The original building is red brick, with huge windows, pale wooden floors, and rows of north-facing glass in the mass-concrete roof – absolutely ideal for its purpose now –

The photographs were taken during my visit to Dia:Beacon. The Andy Warhol gallery is absolutely vast – with a row of invitingly plush couches down the centre of the room. The paintings are hung side by side all around the room, and the whole effect is calm and contemplative. The Flavin work is displayed at one end of the building, some of it alongside the original red brick factory walls and the huge windows, and the rest on purpose-built white walls, all of which serves his artistic vision extraordinarily well. Downstairs, there is a huge space dedicated to Richard Serra’s monumental works. I’ve always enjoyed interacting with Serra’s sculptures, and this room was the highlight of my visit. Walking in and around the work reminded me of Newgrange or Loughcrew in County Meath – there is something very ancient in Serra’s contemporary work.

It would be easy to overfill this vast space – which includes work by Beuys, Judd, Bourgeois, Kawara, le Witt, Nauman, and Agnes Martin – but the curators have resisted the urge to do that, and as a result, a visit to Dia:Beacon is refreshing, thought-provoking, inspiring and uplifting. What more could ask of a gallery space?

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Journeys in New York – lullaby to ‘the tenements’ 1913

‘The tenements’ – what does the term mean? In 1913 Dublin was literally teeming with poverty-stricken people, many of whom  were crowded into ‘the tenements’, their destitution made so much worse by the Lockout. Some, like Rashers Tierney in Strumpet City, had nowhere to live at all, unless somebody was kind enough to offer a basement.  As for ‘the tenements’  – it is strange to think that those houses, in Henrietta Street, Dominick Street, and around the Gardiner Street area of North inner city Dublin, to name but a few places, were built many years earlier for the elite of Dublin. They were the show houses of their time, replete with the requisite designer fireplaces, a la mode plasterwork, and sweeping hand-made staircases. They had several large airy rooms filled with plump couches, leather armchairs, pianos, paintings, and large windows with thick-lined curtains. The houses formed squares and long streets of domestic architecture that suggested wealth, power, and social conformity. But as the wealthy families moved away, the houses were rented and allowed to go to rack and ruin – rapidly becoming ‘the tenements’ where Dublin’s poor lived, or rather, survived if they could, several families to one of those rooms, with nothing by way of facilities or privacy; no curtains to keep out the cold, no plush seating or bedding, and no food. The houses were so cold that many of those hand-carved staircases were ripped out and burned as fire-wood; the tenants couldn’t afford the price of a bag of coal. Body heat had to suffice, and the birth rate was high. It’s strange to think of the little children, lying on their thin beds at night, their bellies aching for the want of food,  staring at the plasterwork confectionery on the ceilings – the white iced Christmas cake that they’d never have. Perhaps their parents invented stories about the characters on the ceilings: lullabies about the icing of the wealthy, sung to quicken the poor to the temporary peace of sleep. Take a walk up Henrietta Street someday soon, before this 1913 centenary is over. It’s not the wealthy owners who’ll come to mind, or the William Martin Murphy’s, but the ghosts of grey-clothed, harried, and worn out women, and the noisy spirits of their ever-hopeful, but haunted-looking children – skipping, singing and dancing amid the ruins of their parents dreams for them.  As for Rashers Tierney:

“He lay on the floor on his bed of straw and accumulated rags. A little of the light from the street lamps found its way through the broken window. It touched the ceiling and the upper part of the wall, leaving the rest of the basement in darkness. … He did not want to move. It had been a mistake to lie down …

In the corner furthest from him sacking covered the body … “He’s been dead for several days….” (James Plunkett, Strumpet City, Gill and Macmillan reprint, 2013, pp. 521 and 542).

One can only hope that the cold, bleak little basement in which he died was a little better than the occupied cardboard boxes to be found on the streets of Dublin in 2013, the centenary of the Lockout.

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Journeys in New York – the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building

Journeys in New York - the Stephen A. Schwarzman Building

Situated on the corner of 5th Avenue and 42nd Street, New York Public Library is an architecturally stunning building. It is situated in a prime location on a site that used to house the Croton Reservoir. The library opens at 10am every morning, and it is an amazing site to see queues of people waiting to get in – tourists, of course, but also many locals who visit the facility every day to read the newspapers or a book, to connect to the wifi, or to just find a little bit of peace amid the quiet rooms. See
Behind the library lies Byrant Park – a green oasis in the middle of a high rise concrete jungle. The park is always crowded for free open air films, interviews with authors, outdoor yoga classes, chess, ping pong, reading, sunbathing, while children (and I suspect adults too) are delighted by the colourful hand-made merry go round. See

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Journeys in New York – the underground

Journeys in New York – the underground

The underground in New York City – a beehive of activity where you’ll find everything from extraordinary musicians who play hard for your attention, to people huddling in corners trying to get some rest.  I use the metro every day, from Astor Place to Grand Central and back again. The atmosphere is electric in Grand Central – a daily movie of human life. The noise is tremendous – people everywhere, going in all directions with bags, suitcases, sacks and back packs, and long queues for tickets, coffee, iced tea, muffins, money, the pharmacy, the food market, information, and more information. All noise, and more noise – loudspeakers, loud mouths, phones, music, shouting, crying, shuffling, running, clicking heels, excited groups of tourists with guides, and usually something happening in the large hallway that takes you out to 42nd Street. Tunnels, cut through the hard rock, and sometimes engineered one above the other, spread in lines up, down and across the city – it is as busy down there as it is on the streets overhead. I am constantly reminded of Piet Mondrian’s  famous painting Broadway Boogie Woogie, see  There is visual art everywhere in Grand Central, and in most, if not all of the stations in the city. Tile mosaic is the speciality, and it illustrates everything from Art Nouveau to 2013 contemporary.  It’s a gallery down there – an underground (and sometimes overground) monument to the the fact that visual art has a vital place in the busiest places of all. Slow down and take a look – and if you can’t do that, I hope my link to the Huffington Post works – try that instead!

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Journeys in New York – light in the window

Journeys in New York - light in the window

Mosaic light shop, East 6th Street, NYC.

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Journeys in New York – bird heaven in the middle of the city

Journeys in New York - bird heaven in the middle of the city

82 degrees in the sun today, but hail, rain, snow or sun, the birds are fed and watered by the people of the neighbourhood in this beautiful little community garden on East 6th Street, NYC.

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Journeys in New York – a little piece of art

Journeys in New York - a little piece of art

‘Talk to me cuz I’m lonely’ – a striking piece of art that says so much about life in a a very busy world. Is the mask speaking, or was the artist saying something?

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Journeys in New York – a reminder of home and history

I was reading a rare publication that I found in New York Public Library. It is a paper that George Russell (AE) wrote about the infamous Dublin Lockout in 1913. The subject is the central theme in Dublin’s  One City One Book publication (2013) – Strumpet City by James Plunkett. Being away from Dublin, and having time to think about our history, George Russell’s comment below reminded me of the many evenings I sat with my sister and brothers to watch the televised version of Strumpet City. They also reminded me that this was our Dublin, the one my grand mother and grand father were born into in 1904 or thereabouts, the love of which they passed on to us. They lived in Francis Street – my father will tell you all about that in his forthcoming book, Growing up so High. I read Strumpet City after I saw the television series. I also read Roots and Gone with the Wind that year –  my own literary revival! George Russell (AE) is probably better-known today as an art critic, and a painter of luminous visionary scenes. A peaceful man, he was born in Tyrone, but grew up in Dublin and could see both sides of the ‘Irish Question’. The comment below was written in 1913 – and published in The Irish Worker Press, which was based in Liberty Hall – the old building that once stood on the site of the glass edifice that occupies its footprint now. Russell’s contribution to the political debate in the Ireland of his time is not always discussed or written about. But this little piece is meaningful and thought-provoking:

‘I am a literary man, a lover of ideas, but I have found few people in my life who would sacrifice anything for a principle. Yet in Dublin, when the masters issued that humiliating document, asking men – on penalty of dismissal – to swear never to join a trades union, thousands of men who had no connection with the Irish Transport Workers – many among them personally hostile to that organisation – refused to obey. They would not sign away their freedom, their right to choose their own heroes and their own ideas. Most of these men had no strike fund to fall back on. They had wives and children depending on them. Quietly and grimly they took through hunger the path to the Heavenly City … Nobody in the Press in Dublin has said a word about it. Nobody has praised them; no one has put a crown upon their brows. Yet these men are the true heroes of Ireland today, they are the descendants of Oscar, Chuchulain, the heroes of our ancient stories. For all their tattered garments, I recognise in these obscure men a majesty of spirit. It is in these workers in the towns and in the men in the cabins in the country that the hope of Ireland lies….’ [George Russell, ‘The Dublin Strike: A Plea for the Workers’, a speech delivered in the Royal Albert Hall, London, 1 November 1913, and published by the Irish Worker Press, Liberty Hall, Dublin, 1913, p. 3.]

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