Postcards

Our studio had a big critique today. Each of us presented in front of the class, our TA, our regular critic, and between one and three guest critics. Some students were lucky enough to get Danielle Smoller, who runs this summer program. She gave some truly excellent critiscism. I only presented to one guest, whose thinking was so similar to that of my regular critic that it wasn't overly helpful.

Anyway, we got the night off. It's raining, so I've been inside, writing postcards to various family members, and a small selection of friends who seem to value the postcards I've sent in the past. Some are Columbia cards; others I picked up on Saturday at the Met.

I realize that I've neglected to mention that trip, so I'll just say that Mike Borkowski was in town, so Sameer and I took him down to go to the Museum of Natural History, but that was full. Honestly. It was full. So we went to the Met, and had a grand ol' time. My favorite part were the Chinese prints. There was a piece called The Palace of Nine Perfections that I thought was absolutely amazing. On the way back, we stopped for dinner at this kooky little place called Quintessence. We knew going in that it was a vegetarian place, but we were surprised to learn that they served only raw food. I had some interesting nut meatballs (balls made from the meat of nuts), two types of salads, and a drink that was a green mixture of kale, pear, and (if I remember correctly) passionfruit juices. Perhaps it wasn't worth the price, but it was memorable.

On a final note tonight, I'll mention that thunder sounds really weird here; I think it echoes off of thousands of buildings or something, but that's merely a conjecture. I can tell you what it sounds like: It sounds like what I imagine a five-ton garbage dumpster dropped off the Chrysler Building sounds like when it hits the ground. How do you like them apples?