The sky proudly brimmed with a baby blue tint, modestly welcoming New Yorkers to a new day. Eager to embrace the newest hue for my canvas, I dug through my duffel bag and procured a pair of shorts, socks and a t-shirt. The silver-plated elevator that lurks within 500 E. 63rd St., opened its jaws and quickly snapped shut behind me.
The button labeled “L” glimmered under the faint overhead lights as I meticulously placed my thumb over the same worn spot that hundreds of thousands of other riders had before. The worn “L” held up its end of the bargain as the silver jaws slid open once more.
After a 30-minute journey through the maze-like underbelly of the city some refer to as the New York Subway System, I observed a completely new land. The endless heights of the towers overhead vanished. The flocks of outwardly harried and stressed individuals, were simply gone. I had stumbled upon an entirely new kingdom, which seemed light years away from Manhattan.
As I turned the first corner, my head adjusted upwards to seek out the name of this new territory. The sun, having emerged in its entirety for the first time in two days glared violently into my eyes. With my hand raised to battle back against the light, I read the following word on a street sign:
BROOKLYN
My eyes widened despite the merciless rays from the sun and my iPod leapt, as if possessed, from my backpack to my ears and sounds of the Beastie Boys echoed through my ears. The newly conquered borough demanded exploration.
Small, paper coffee cups and old newspapers danced in tandem along the sidewalks. Peace signs were arbitrarily stenciled on brick walls and street posts. A troupe of determined volunteers gripped their clipboards with certainty.
Manhattan was at a distance.
Around another corner, Brooklyn featured another empty street.
Silence. Only the muffled zip of a nail gun being triggered into a nearby construction site broke the muted borough.
Following a casual break for fresh sushi and a jaunt down a retail-lined avenue, Brooklyn proclaimed its identity. Without speaking, the borough I had first placed my foot upon only two hours prior, relayed its color.
Then, without warning, a slender, slightly curved but methodical line quietly slid across the canvas. Having primarily dark colors thus far, the addition of a tope was an odd contrast to the art. However, Brooklyn had made its mark. New York City’s most populous borough…was a shade of tan.
