Yesterday I took my first tour of New York's latest park, the Highline. The first thing I noticed was the very cool logo directing me up the entrance at Gansevoort street. A cool logo was not something I expected to see from a city-run organization. It pays tributeto the railroading origins of the raised platform, which started hauling commuters back and forth during the depression aftermath of 1934. The last train ran along the Highline in 1980, hauling nothing but 3 cars of frozen turkeys. It had remained dormant ever since. The 2nd life of the Highline is hardly complete as the park only spans about 9 streets right now, from Gansevoort to 20th, but the plans are to get it all the way up to 34th street, though apparently there are some greedy private owners standing complicating the matter. There were construction workers napping just north of 20th street, so I imagine that at least part of the unfinished park will be done as soon as lunch break is over.
The park itself reflects popular society's growing trend of sustainability. Rusty rail tracks have been left where they lay, now surrounded by gravel, overflowing plant life, concrete walkways and wooden lounge chairs. Plants are fully supported in their natural unkempt ways, not being manicured or stylized like so many of their leafy counterparts tend to be today. It's as if God herself said, "plant, grow there and thrive as you please!" Lounge chairs are placed on wheels on old rail tracks, tempting ambitious loungers to roll them slightly left or right. At 11:30am on a Thursday, the Highline was packed with picture takers snapping, mullers lounging, a snaking DNA strand of joggers and even a painter forever glorifying the streets below.
Asides from giving westsiders a new place to lunch, photography classes a new place to shoot and tourists a new place to tour, the park providers a much-appreciated new perspective of New York. There's a big difference between checking things out at 20 feet up versus being stuck at a pedestrian street level, and the view is well worth climbing the 2 floor's worth of stairs. The Hudson off to one side, the fatty meat of Manhattan off to the other, there's no question this park won't be a passing fad that eventually decays into a westside Tompkin's Square. In coming years, an eruption of new and renovated buildings are sure to take advantage of the awesome view looking down at the Highline, and there are a few walls of windows that already do.
There's a very cool transition from walkway to gravel, as concrete forks into gravel and plant life.
Some things are still being worked out, like where this door should lead to now.
The renovated Standard calls the Highline it's bitch, and rightfully so.
There was a photo shoot going on in plain view, mooting any confidentiality agreements.
The lounge chairs whispered sweet nothings, but having left my rucksack at home I politely declined their offers of leisure and relaxation.
I never would have known there was a bridge connecting these two buildings if not for the Highline's superior viewing capabilities.
The green and purple highlights on these windows was amazing. I felt like I should have been able to play them like some sort of interactive keyboard.
Sadly, the white noise of people mulling caused this resident to seal off his window.
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