Jenny Holzer’s show at the Botanical Garden is joy and light pouring across water and into the sky. The words look like they are hatching, like gossamers shimmering across the thin surface of the world, like birth, like an explosion of joy, we walked to the edge of the water through candlelight and there we are at the very beginning of the world with the fires and the water when language was born and we all started speaking to each other, slowly at first and then so quickly and with so much chatter, whisper, and cacophony and with tweets, buzzes, clicks and rattles, on screens, across dish networks, until no one can hear a thing. Until language has become meaningless. No matter what anyone says, nobody’s really listening. I think that’s what the light and language and firelight meant. Jenny herself is very soft spoken and I felt my heart breaking in a thousand pieces as the words broke apart and became part of the sky.
Last night we walked across the Brooklyn Bridge and heard Richard Blanco reading Walt Whitman; there was fried chicken and macaroni and cheese and great poetry and magic. Tonight more poetry with the Poetry Society of America and a walk through the Frida Kahlo garden to the light, poetry and magic.