Articles
Articles
The higher the New York observatory experience climbs, the dumber it gets.
New York University’s John A. Paulson Center announces the triumph of a new civilization: thrusting, dismissive, cruel.
Less a menacing monument to imminent doom than a superfluous, almost decadent by-product of capitalism gone awry
306 West 142nd Street—a condo building two blocks from St. Nicholas Park—is no longer a part of my personal stomping grounds. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have beef.
Why would you put someone who didn’t think art was very good in charge of designing an art museum?
A whole lot of people who are not me should have been paying attention a lot sooner.
I could describe The Hub for you, but what’s the point? You already know what it looks like.
The MTA thinks it can teach us something about beauty. Get outta here!
Like with much of what is spewed out of New York’s over-hyped, PR-industrial complex, a closer look at Central Park reveals a thin green veneer covering a hollow and tired system.
By far the museum’s most grievous offense is how brazenly it seeks to be noticed.
