I was walking in Chelsea just after sunset earlier this month, looking in the windows of art galleries at people crowded into openings, sipping wine and laughing, and the windows of designer clothing stores, marveling at the display of opulence. I happened to walk up to the High Line and saw that it was open, its elevated path lined with snow.
The High Line was a freight railroad track before it was left to deteriorate. It’s only been open as a park since 2009, and runs about 1 1/2 miles along the lower West Side of Manhattan. It is landscaped with tough meadow plants that can withstand the extremes of New York weather.
I walked by the windows of Phillips de Pury & Company, where I got a view of the psychedelic artwork of Ryan McGinness. His “blackhole” paintings are illuminated with blacklights.
It was very cold, but I made it to the Standard and a little beyond to where the High Line ends, and you descend back into the busy streets. I love the pauses that places like the High Line give, little moments of peace up above the daily hum.