Central Park
Lake wasn’t the
most beautiful lake that I’d ever seen, but somehow, it had a force
over
my entire being that linked me to one of the most mesmerizing parts of
a human’s mind—our memory. One drizzly and foggy Wednesday
evening,
I discovered my own magical place in a vast sea of greenery submerged
in
the middle of Manhattan—the lake. Much like Andre Aciman in his
essay,
Shadow Cities, which discusses the demolishment of Straus Park and the
scariness of change in our lives and an undeniable want for things to
always
remain the same, with a yearning for all people, much like exiles, to
find
a place of familiarity and comfort, I was searching for a place to call
my own in New York City, “doing what all exiles do on impulse, which is
to look for their homeland abroad” (Aciman 494).
I
discovered upon repeated
visits to my gorgeous haven that I wasn’t the only person in Central
Park
seeking a sense of home in an often cruel and bitingly harsh
city.
In the picture taken above, there were dozens of people surrounding the
lake that are not visible from this vantage point. They did not
hinder
my emotional and calming experience that day or any other day, because
it wasn’t anyone else’s spot at the lake—it was mine. Staring out
into the fiery oranges and reds that set the autumn trees aglow and the
quiet, rippling waters that know the secrets of the past, of heartbreak
and love, of tranquility and passion, of memory—well, it simply brought
tears to my eyes. I missed my home. I longed for a sense of
family, familiarity, and warmth that I was unable to find anywhere else
in the city. Andre Aciman argues that Straus Park was “created
precisely
for retrospection, for finding oneself, for finding the center of
things”
(497). In my opinion, Central Park’s lake was created with the
exact
same purpose—to find yourself, to find humanity.
It was my
private sanctuary—my
place to get away from the sounds of angry cab drivers, frantic fire
engines,
and bustling police. Much like Aciman, I found that “it’s
difficult
to explain what seclusion means when you find it amid the roar of
midday
traffic” (498). More than that, I found the calm seclusion and
stillness
of the park to be beautiful yet ironic. Even in the thickening
depths
of the most inner part of the park, one is still able to see the New
York
skyline peeking out above the treetops. Still, even with the city
not being totally obsolete at this location, tourists and New Yorkers
alike
go to great lengths to find this secret oasis of serenity. In
order
for an overwhelming majority of New Yorkers to enjoy Central Park’s
tranquility
and uniqueness, one must either hop in a cab or experience a subway
excursion
just to enjoy “nature.” Truly, there is nothing “natural” about
that.
But once you enter its passage, it’s as if you’re transported to
another
dimension—you are no longer in New York. People are friendlier,
it
seems. Things are quiet and peaceful, and people respect one
another.
On any relatively decent day at Central Park Lake, the sites to see are
endless! You can witness a myriad of natures wonders and life’s
norms
including ducks, fish, geese, squirrels, joggers, film crews, dogs,
people
reading books, performers, artists, children, bridal parties, tourists,
and the homeless—all just enjoying the beauty she has to offer.
The
lake brings even the most dissimilar of people together for a common
purpose—to
enjoy the view, the air, and the pure beauty of the park.
But why do
we choose Central
Park? Why can’t this relaxation occur at any other park in
Manhattan?
And why is Central Park one of the most famous sites in New York
City?
Some believe it is because of its great size, the zoo, Belvedere
Castle,
the carousel, Wollman ice skating rink, or Tavern on the Green
restaurant.
But what I believe really draws in the crowds and differentiates this
park
from others is the waters of the lake.
Water has a
calming and tranquil
effect on humans, believed to be linked back to our psychologically
most
comforting memory of all—developing in our mother’s womb before we were
even born. Today, people travel to the shore for vacations to
help
unwind and relax. With wave machines, even the relaxing sound of
water puts many people to sleep at night within the comfort of their
own
homes. In New York City, we are inclined to go to Battery
Park
at the southern most tip of Manhattan or the Seaport to see the water’s
edge, but to some, the immenseness of the sea can be
overwhelming.
When staring out into a sunset over the horizon at the seaport or at
Battery
Park looking at the Statue of Liberty, we feel as if we are able to see
for eternity. Our thoughts often run away with us and are focused
on travel and escape from our lives. More intimate and reassuring
thoughts are formed in a contained water source, such as the
lake.
In many ways the vastness of the open sea and appearance of endless
water
connects us to our future, while a charming, baroque and familiar lake
links us to our past and can simply capture a singular mesmeric moment
of the present. For most, a smaller and quainter park-like
atmosphere
can be much more inviting. The lake calls to her visitors,
beckoning
them to approach her edge touch her waters. It’s amazing how
people
just stand on the Bethesda Terrace and stare out at the lake as if it
has
magical powers or they’re expecting a mythical creature to rise from
its
waters. Surely, these visitors have seen water before, but the
presence
of this water in this particular park is what makes its presence so
unique.
Sure, there
are multiple
parks in New York City for everyone to enjoy, however, few of these
parks
hold the placidity and harmony of Central Park. Who wants to or
who
is actually capable of relaxing in nature during an anti-war
protest
in Union Square, or a drug bust or renovation in Washington
Square?
And of course no one wants to be shunned away by Gramercy Park’s
aristocracy
and selectiveness. Stephanie Farqhaur describes Gramercy
Park
as “indeed a haven, but only for a select elite” (Farqhaur
45).
Central Park is neither selective or elite, and her ambiance is
unmatched.
The lake opens her arms to you and embraces you warmly in a cold and
ever-changing
metropolis.
Large, yet
inviting, it is
unlike any other park in the city. It’s an artistic and physical
phenomenon. Feeling the need to have a comparably landscaped park
to ones in London and Paris, merchants and landowners encouraged the
development
of the park to establish international reputation in the 19th
century.
In the 1850’s, thousands of Irish, German, and New England-area
laborers
toiled ten-hour days for between a dollar and dollar fifty per day to
complete
the masterpiece known as Central Park. Unfortunately, to the
dismay
of the common man, it became clear after its first decade of completion
that the park had been built for the wealthy. It was too far for
the working class people living downtown to walk there. But
today,
Central Park Lake knows no social class boundaries. In fact, it’s
ironic that a park that was originally built for the wealthy is
literally
a home and place to sleep for hundreds of homeless people today.
However,
the homeless people
do not even pose the thought of a threat for the parks validity,
safety,
or beauty. In fact, they almost enhance it. One Sunday
afternoon,
I approached a woman sitting at the edge of the Bethesda Terrace,
looking
across the lake, painting a picture of a raggedly dressed man sitting
solitarily
under a tree by the lake’s edge, and I asked her why she chose to paint
this man. “Because his existence and ambiance at this lake is
beautiful.
It is people like this man that capture the true essence of what this
place
is about,” she replied.
I then
began to question
how misleading her painting would probably be. In the picture
shown
above, I managed to capture a glimpse of this man that she was painting
sitting under the tree. Is this picture beautiful to you?
Perhaps,
but it’s amazing how a mere picture can be so misleading—because you
don’t
see the same image my camera lens caught that the naked eye would see
at
the lake. Because beyond the perimeters of this photo is the
man’s
battered shopping cart, filled with bags, clothes, and junk collected
on
the streets. In the essay, Not Looking at Pictures, E.M. Forster
describes how paintings often, much like my photograph “generate
private
fantasies…show landscapes where one would like to wander” (Forster
80).
Without the truth behind this picture, you could imagine many different
stories about this man’s life. However, the last thing that you
would
probably imagine is that he is homeless. In my picture, he may be
admired as just a quiet and peaceful man, relaxing under a tree.
But would you really be willing to wander up to a homeless man by
himself
in the park? If you were to see this man sitting at the corner of
14th Street and Broadway in the same position with his dilapidated
shopping
cart, you would probably ignore his existence first before ever
recognizing
him as beautiful or even recognizing him at all. Why does this
lake
have the ability to cloud our vision of reality and make everything so
beautiful, void from all that is ugly, evil, and often honest? Is
this ability a miraculous phenomenon, or merely just an entrancing
illusion
of our minds?
It may
possibly be both,
but either way, it is still incredible that a simple site in such a
vast
city can draw people from a father fishing with his son, to an elderly
woman feeding the ducks, to a die hard exercise freak running its path
numerous times, to a bride taking pictures of the most important day of
her life, to a movie crew filming a major motion picture, to a
performer
earning a living with change acquired from his fluctuating audiences,
to
an artist attempting to capture beauty with her paint and canvas, to
someone
like me just trying to embrace a sense of home and solidity in a
kaleidoscopic
city. I feel it would be impossible to find many other places in
New York City or even the entire world that can serve so many purposes
and mean so many different things to so many different people.
And
even if our one-dimensional New York vision of reality is blurred for
just
a few moments of our hellish lives, well maybe that’s ok. There is no
doubt
that something about Central Park Lake is magical, mystifying, and
miraculous.
Works Cited
Aciman, Andre. “Shadow
Cities.” Writing
the Essay ? Art in the World ? The
World Through Art. Eds.
Forrest, Martin,
and Pat C. Hoy II. New York:
McGraw-Hill Custom Publishing,
2003. 493-505.
Central Park Conservancy.
“Virtual Park.”
2003. http://www.centralparknyc.org/virtualpark/thegreatlawn/lake/
Farqhuar, Stephanie.
“Memoirs of the City’s
Unfamous.” Mercer Street. Eds. Hoy II, and
Darlene A. Forrest. Expository
Writing Program:
New York University, 2000. 45-47
Forster, E.M. “Not Looking
at Pictures.”
Writing the Essay ? Art in the World ? The
World Through Art. Eds.
Forrest, Martin,
and Pat C. Hoy II. New York:
McGraw-Hill Custom Publishing,
2003. 80-82.
Waxman, Sarah. “The History
of Central Park.”
http://www.ny.com/articles/centralpark.html
Winter 2004
