In creating my finished video for Welkin I made a few significant changes- none of which change the overall concept of the piece but hopefully do bring out the meaning more clearly. In the updated version there is now a littering of street noise behind the sound of the bells from the Church of the Immaculate Conception on Ditmars Boulevard and 29th street. At first I tried to use filters to mute these sounds- cars and trucks rolling by, children talking to their parents, someone mustering up a big, phlegmy wad to thrust forth onto the sidewalk. In recutting I realized that these sounds are just as ambient to me as the bells. Unlike the cacophony of airheads screaming on their cellphones or fresh-faced graduates gushing about the newest Sushi joint or coffee shop to pop up (thereby closing another local business such as the tattoo parlor that recently went under) these other sounds are a sampling of what I still love about my neighborhood. A diverse group are responsible for these sounds- Greeks, Italians, Indians and Pakistanis to name a few. But more and more this aural landscape is morphing into a screeching record of American white girls who twitter like they’re twelve when in reality puberty is a thing of their past. Sauntering around in their purple leggings, it’s a challenge not to shove them in front of the Q19 bus.

I still can’t figure out why these things were easier to take when I first moved to Queens in 2003. I’m sure these people were all part of my environment then as well, but for some reason I was able to ignore them in ways that I just can’t anymore.

The use of super-8 for the first segment is symbolic of a time when things were simpler, especially my attitude. I’d sit on the balcony of my apartment and stare up at the sky just as it is being presented to the viewer here- eyes to the sky, embracing the hazy lull as planes and blimps float by overhead, impervious to the frivolties of the world beneath them.

In the second segment of “Welkin” the medium changes to video- something I have also had a difficult relationship with. I appreciate video and it’s versatility; however, it has also allowed any fool that can press “record” to boast himself as a “filmmaker” (which, for the record, is an inaccurate moniker if you’ve only ever used video). Coincidentally, the growing yupster population seems to be ripe with these budding young “auters.”

It only made sense, then, to use video as the illustrating medium for the segment of the piece in which everything abruptly changes. In an instant the soft focus of the film cuts to sharp digital images of an electrical storm. The lightning is a seizure-inducing spasm of activity, an electric fence between Earth and the Vault of Heaven. The bells are no longer the eloquent song of the Immaculate Conception Church, but the sonorous din of a Belgian cathedral- invasive and deafening just like this unstoppable breed of new New Yorkers.

Image from xenogenesis video shot in Flushing, Queens.

Image of a woman in a Yashmak at a shop on Atlantic Avenue in Brooklyn.

Here are still photos from our foudroyant video which you can see on the site. This film was shot on a sunny afternoon at Coney Island.

Pigeons, perched atop a roof, staring down at the streets below as if they’d dare never venture below their elevated homes. And in fact they never do. At least the ones that neighbor me.

Three times a day their shadows fall through my window as they swoop in a circle around their building, around the sky. As if they were swimming in a school, they’d stay in close formation while covering every inch with their pattern. A mysterious man would wave a long stick and shout to them as they would fly. They’d come home when he’d stop waving (I later found out this was for exercise). It was best at dusk, for the pigeons would be pink from the setting sun and they’d paint the walls new colors with their wings.

A swarm. A cluster. A gathering of flight. All a mystery to me, until the day I went onto my own roof, and waved over to the man waving the flag.

After our shouted salutations, he agreed to let me find my way up the stairs to meet my winged neighbors. I called up from the street and he threw down a key for me. Stairs, more stairs and a ladder.

He met me with his round smile and informed me that he loved birds, he really did, he just loved them. I found my way to the coop, only to be met with the most beautiful hum. Pigeons wandered the roof, pecked at their food, fluttered about, all while making their individual coo. It was as if they sang in a choir, never leaving a silent moment.

Although not fond of the camera, they were fond of the sky and would soar at any gust of wind or sudden movement. A community of softly singing birds, all with the gift of adorning my apartment with their fluttering shadows and causing the occasional person to glance up when they were in the streets at the right moment.

Here are some unusual words that begin with the letter I. I painted this watercolor during a cold two weeks in a cabin in the woods at the MacDowell Colony reading the whole dictionary. When I started to think about which one would be right for Abecedarium:NYC, it seemed logical to choose a word that spoke to the experience of living in a home that simultaneously “yours” and someone else’s, namely a landlord. Inquiline fit the bill. It’s really a zoological term we transposed to the the life of a city dweller. Watch Beth Botshon’s video and see what I mean.  Which word would you have chosen?

Here is a list of words beginning with G from a forty year old dictionary I pored over during a residency at the MacDowell Colony. It was fascinating and disconcerting to discover how many amazing words have now disappeared not only from our usage but also from this etymological archive. Gone. We chose georgic — which sent me to a community garden in Brooklyn to reflect on agriculture in the city.

Here is a watercolor of words beginning with the letter F. I spent two weeks at the MacDowell Colony looking for a list of thought provoking words for every letter. In the end, I chose foudroyant and spent a day at Colony Island shooting people on rides. Which will disappear first Coney Island as we know it or an obscure word like foudroyant?

I spent two weeks reading a 1968 dictionary and thought these were the most interesting E words. We chose elutriate which sent me to Marine Park, Brooklyn in search of laundrymats. What would you choose?