“Island Song”

The cab was taking us to St. John the Divine from where we hailed it near Lincoln Center. It headed up Broadway to 72nd and kept to the right onto Amsterdam for a straight shot to Morningside Heights. We were going to hear the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra perform Beethoven’s 9th Symphony along with a choral performance of Ode to Joy.

It was a warm, late summer evening with much to look at. People were out on Amsterdam, walking, riding, eating. There was movement in all directions and sounds of the street.

I could see the yellow of our cab flash back at us from the shop windows, holding position beside us as we scooted past the buildings, like a wingman appearing and disappearing in the clouds. At times it seemed we were still, and the streets were in motion.

The low sun hit the upper floors of the buildings on the east side of the street, and their windows cast a reflected patchwork pattern of light across the facades on the west, adding to the kaleidoscopic swirl outside our cocoon.

A firetruck came alongside, then floated across the lane in front of us, showing no sense of urgency. Arms hung out the windows. A flag waved from the back. I’ve been to many places, but none where I was more likely to drive behind or next to a firetruck than the Upper West Side.

Traffic weaved and lunged. Gaps of valuable tarmac were snapped up in an instant as we bound up the Avenue. Red light, stop. Green light, green light, red light, stop.

We arrived at St. John’s a few minutes before the doors opened. From our small vehicle into a mammoth edifice that has endured a lot of good intentions, changes in fortune, and changes of mind. It’s huge. The world’s largest Gothic Cathedral was first Byzantine and then Romanesque Revival. Its construction has spanned many committees and opinions. It’s not finished, but that’s to be expected. Cathedrals take many hundreds of years, and they just started this one in 1892. Regardless, as a work in progress, it’s breathtaking.

The floor is 120,000 sq/ft (2-3/4 acres—in New York!), and the ceiling is ten stories high. The walk up the steps, through the Narthex and Nave, to our seats at the Crossing was farther than from Gray’s Papaya across Verdi Park to the Ansonia.

An exciting benefit from the ongoing construction is that much of the stone and leaded-glass art relates to contemporary times and pursuits. There is a surprising sculpted depiction of the city being destroyed with the Twin Towers and Statue of Liberty crumbling and a bus thrown through the air that was carved before 9-11.

St. John’s is located at one of the highest spots on the island, and you can feel the city fall away as you climb the steps to the front door. Inside space expands and your perspective is awakened. It’s a place stripped of cab rides, reflections, and fire engines, where you can listen and comprehend without the churn of everyday life pulling at you. A place for an interval of inspiring words and music, and solemn consideration of things happening far away.

All proceeds from the sale of this painting were donated to help the people of Ukraine. 

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See more of Robert Beck’s work and visit his UWS studio at www.robertbeck.net. Let him know if you have a connection to an archetypical UWS place or event that would make a good West Side Canvas subject. Thank you!

Note: Before Robert Beck started West Side Canvas, his essays and paintings were featured in Weekend Column. See Robert Beck’s earlier columns here and here.

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