When the Chelsea Hotel closed for renovations last month, it was bemoaned as the latest victim of a changing downtown scene. The famed hotel on 23rd Street saw its fair share of notable writers, artists and musicians roam its halls during its 127-year existence. History buffs and that batch of New Yorkers who constantly harken back to the good old days were left wondering what would become of the iconic building.

But amidst the loud groans and cries of protest was one longtime music lover and New York City history aficionado who couldn’t wait for the construction to begin—Rick Kelly.

That’s because for the past three years, Kelly, 61, has been repurposing the pine from which all 19th century New York City buildings were constructed into a series of limited edition “Bowery Guitars” in his West Village shop, Carmine Street Guitars, on Carmine Street.

“This stuff is garbage to a lot of people,” said Kelly, pointing to a six-foot piece of timber leaning against his shop wall, “but to me it’s something more.”

The series began after director/actor Jim Jarmusch, the neighbor of a friend of Kelly’s, renovated his Bowery apartment and gave the wood to Kelly to see if he could use it in his guitar shop.

That first attempt was very experimental. Kelly knew the pine would work well for the guitar’s body, as early 1950s Fender Telecasters, after which Kelly models his guitars, were made from pine as well. But as Kelly tells it, no one had ever used pine in a guitar’s neck before.

To his surprise, that first guitar, which Jarmusch now owns, worked better than expected. That experiment led to something very special.

So what is it about these guitars that has made Bob Dylan, Bill Frisell, Patti Smith, guitarist Lenny Kaye and countless others fans for life?

The white pine Kelly uses, which he calls the “bones of old New York City,” is over 300 years old. The density of the pine, combined with the alchemy it has undergone—constantly changing hot and cold stages over the past 150 years—has made the wood very resonant, what Kelly calls “a magical combination.”

But one can’t help but notice another magical combination: Kelly’s loves of art, music and New York City history blended into the perfect creative outlet.

His 420-square-foot workspace for this outlet is a termite’s dream, with a distinct smell of pine as inviting as it is potent. It’s filled to the brim with dozens of unfinished bodies and necks and piles of old pine boards 10 feet tall leaning against every available wall. Each is marked in chalk with its origin—the famous Bedford speakeasy Chumley’s, The Chelsea Hotel and random Bowery addresses.

“There’s a lot of history in these guitars,” said Kelly, “If these timbers could talk about what they’ve seen…they’ve seen ’em all.”

And although Kelly says he’d love to find the landfill where all of the city’s old wood ends up, he’s got enough timber to fill his current 100-plus orders—and then some.

Aside from the lumber he gets from architects working on the Bowery, friends living in old brownstones in Lower Manhattan and people who know about his shop and clue him in to renovations going on around town, Kelly gets a lot of his wood from good old-fashioned dumpster diving.

“People are always tipping me off to dumpsters,” he said, “I’m always on my bike, always hunting around. When I see scaffolding, I always look for a dumpster and every dumpster I see, I look inside it.”

Kelly is currently working on No. 44 in his Bowery Pine series, which cost about $1,500 each. With a seemingly endless supply of this reclaimed lumber, he hopes to continue making them as long as the orders keep pouring in.

“I’m sure I’m getting my fifteen minutes of fame,” said Kelly. “But I’m hoping it lasts longer than that.”

Above: Craftsman Rick Perry, owner of Carmine Street Guitars, working on an example of his “Bowery Guitar” series. Left: His workspace, piled high with repurposed lumber is a termite’s dream. Below: Perry in his West
Village shop. Photos by Annie Lubin

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The summer might be peak season for tourism in New York City, but venture a little further upstate and it’s all about the fall.

The explosion of fall foliage that comes in early September and departs around November brings thousands of tourists and leaf peepers, those who travel to view and photograph the fall foliage, to the state’s Hudson River Valley, making it the busiest time of year for the area.

Advertised as the “perfect antidote to urban stress,” tours of the Hudson Valley offer an extensive array of options for the city dweller who doesn’t want to venture too far afield.

“We usually get around 1,500 people in the fall who participate in our day tours,” said Nancy Lutz, communications manager for Dutchess County Tourism. “By the time it’s October, we’re getting two to three buses a day on Saturdays and Sundays.”

For these tourists, fall foliage is not just the backdrop. More often than not, the robust greens, oranges, reds and yellows that cover the area are the main attraction.

The Northeast on the whole is filled with a huge variety of broad-leaved trees whose foliage paints the region with a spectacular color range. But it is New York State in particular that boasts most of these trees—almost as many acres as the rest of the Northeast combined.

The state’s tourism site, ILoveNY.com, provides leaf peepers with a gaggle of charts, figures and reports on up-to-date fall foliage color. A weekly report comes in the form of a detailed map charting fall color progress and listing the best vantage points for peepers in the state.

With that said, finding the trees is not the hard part—it’s knowing where to go and how to get there.

The Hudson Valley encompasses a wide area and is closer to New York City than the average urbanite might realize (the trip from Grand Central Station to Wassaic in the mid-Hudson takes a little over two hours). Westchester and Rockland counties mark the southern tip of the region, which passes through Dutchess and Ulster counties and stretches up through Albany.

For those with cars, it’s easy and convenient to make the two-hour drive up to Dutchess County, located in the middle of the region, and explore the surrounding farms, mountains, parks and nature trails. The county’s tourism site, DutchessCountyTourism.com, provides several itineraries for both day trips and overnighters. The site is a great tool for anyone planning a trip to the area, with lists of the best fall foliage spots, hiking trails, dining options and wineries.

As for group tours, which can be found on the same website, the options are so extensive and far-ranging that the perfect fit is easily achievable. Whether you’re a foodie looking for an exceptional culinary experience, an adventurer looking to explore the outdoors or a history buff looking to learn about the region’s rich past, there’s something for every interest.

Dutchess County Tourism has also partnered with MTA Metro-North Railroad to provide affordable group getaway day tours that allow tourists to not only survey the beautiful scenery but discover a bit of the local fare.

And then there’s the Hudson River Valley Ramble, which takes place over three weekends, from Sept. 7 through Sept. 25, and celebrates the area’s vibrant history, communities, cultural attractions and natural resources. “It’s the perfect opportunity for people who want to get out and enjoy the great outdoors but don’t know where to go,” said Lutz. With over 200 events it’s easy to get overwhelmed, so check out Hudsonrivervalleyramble.com for the complete list of events, which include guided walks, hikes, camping and kayaking trips and festivals.

Go for the leaves but stay for any one of the dozens of reasons so many people flock upstate this time of year. With so much to see, you’ll be praying Monday never comes.

New York has almost as many acres of trees as the rest of the Northeast combined. Photo by Danny T

Urban Farming. Photo by Caitlyn Bierman

Community gardens and rooftop farms have been popping up all over the city for years, but the Battery Park plots are the first of their kind—in fact, it’s the first public farm to grace the soil of Manhattan since 1625.

The 80 plots along State and Pearl streets are being used by students from eight city schools (including nearby Millennium High School, whose environmental club set the plan in motion with a request to plant a vegetable garden in the park) and various community groups. A few park food vendors will even incorporate vegetables and herbs from the farm into their dishes.

Unfortunately, the Urban Farm at the Battery will only be around for two years—but the closing of the farm will usher in construction on the Battery Garden Bikeway, connecting the east and west sides of Manhattan, giving us yet another reason to love the area.

Walking through the seemingly endless red-, white- and green-adorned crowd of purveyors, pedestrians and onlookers, it’s hard to picture the festival’s humble beginnings 85 years ago. But at the heart of the festivities are the religious origins of the event—a celebration of the patron saint of Naples by the Italian immigrants who settled the area. To that effect, the festival includes religious processions, a celebratory mass and religious ornaments strewn throughout. But whether you come for the religious aspect, the zeppoles or just for the experience, there’s something here for everyone.

"There are a wide variety of courses," said Keren Moscovitch, the
SVA Continuing Education Program coordinator. "Someone who’s never taken
a photo in their lives can learn from the very beginning how to take a
photo and develop or process it in the digital darkroom. Then the
courses get more intermediate and specific from there." With over 400
classes offered, there’s a lot of room for different interests and skill
levels. Courses range from the general, like "How to Make Better
Pictures," to niche classes that deal with fashion, advertising and
architecture, to the truly specific, like "Night in NYC" and "Modern
Ruins in Brooklyn."

And students come from all different backgrounds. Some already have
established practices, have been shooting for a while and have a strong
body of work but want to hone in on specific skill sets. According to
Moscovitch, others want to better develop their portfolios and
articulate their vision and are looking for high-level critiques.

Some were art majors in college but didn’t have as much access to
in-depth photography classes. That group usually includes students who
use the courses at SVA "as a stepping stone" to help develop their
portfolios for grad school.

And then there are the kinds of students who start off with a basic "Black and White" photography class and build from there.

"In general, I don’t like to use the word hobby," Moscovitch said.
"Everyone’s pretty serious. They’re looking to either build a
professional career or make it in the art world and exhibit work."

Moscovitch gave the names of two recent students, Bill Durgin and
Zev Jonas, who took her classes last year and are now "exhibiting quite
widely" in various galleries and solo shows. "I regularly see students
come out of the classes and contact me to let me know about their
exhibitions and their jobs in the photo market," said Moscovitch.

Courses vary in time and price. Some, like the "Shooting the
Brooklyn Waterfront: Red Hook," meet once for a price of $150. Others
meet once a week for a number of weeks and range in price from $200 to
$900.

SVA also offers a summer residency program for more experienced
photographers who want the intense immersion that will get them "plugged
in to what’s happening on a very contemporary level in New York City
and beyond," said Moscovitch.

With the variety of classes and opportunities offered, the question
isn’t what course do you want to take, but how can you choose just
one?

Unfortunately, my mom’s already married. Which means that, as the oldest unmarried child, I’ve had to deal with her newest obsession. As a 21-year-old college student, still living in my parents’ house, whose unpaid internships have never provided me with financial independence to leave my Midwood, Brooklyn, neighborhood, I’ve always had to do what my mother asked of me.

And taking full advantage of that, my mother tries to set me up mercilessly. For her, looks, personality, even intellect aren’t very important. After I come home, befuddled, from a date, insisting that the person I was forced to spend the last two hours with was not for me, she insists I’m being shallow or not realizing his true potential.

“What do you mean you weren’t attracted to him?” my mother rhetorically asks of me. “Yes, he’s a little heavy, but just run him around the block a few times. Trust me, under all that fat is a very cute face. And every guy loses his hair eventually. At least with this one he’s already bald so you’re avoiding the shock that comes later on.”

“Socially awkward?” my mother would ask. “I’m sure it’s nothing a good therapist can’t fix. And he comes from such a wealthy family, you’re really missing the boat if you turn this one down.”

“Gay? He’s not gay,” my mother insists.

“He’s just very artistic and creative. And don’t you worry, if he comes out of the closet, I’ll shove him right back in.”

I had gotten used to putting up with my mother’s incessant set-ups. At worst it was a free dinner, and besides, it appeased her.

But it was a result of a recent date that had me turning down every future guy my mother tried to introduce to me.

His name was Jack. As a 28-year-old who worked as an accountant in a top consulting firm, I figured Jack must be nerdy. But from Facebook pictures, he looked pretty cute, so I decided to go with it.

Jack picked me up in his uncle’s car and, because he liked live music, I suggested we go to Spike Hill in Williamsburg.

After a 20-minute drive that involved him not paying attention to a word I was saying and interrupting me with one stupid question after another, came the kicker. He told me that ever since he found out how much his roommate spent on his fiancée’s engagement ring, he’d been saving up for the moment when he needs to buy a rock of his own. He’d also been saving up for his dream honeymoon, a trip to the Maldives. And then, within an hour of meeting this guy, the topic of weddings came up.

“I want to get married in the Plaza Hotel,” he said.

I brushed that comment off, thinking he had to be kidding. He wasn’t.

“Honestly,” he said, “between your family and mine and all of the people they know, I don’t see how a small wedding would be possible.”

Eek! One date and this guy was already formulating the guest list for our wedding?

He countered by saying that it would probably only cost about $250,000, a lot of money in theory, but when put into perspective, not that much. I don’t know whom he thought he was trying to impress or how much money he thought I had, but after countless references to money made and names of luxury cars and expensive clothing dropped throughout the evening, I’d had enough.

When I got home, I told my mother that the date was a disaster, rattling off the lack of interesting conversation, his inability to listen and the fact that he already planned our life out on the first date.

“Have you ever seen a celebrity?” my mother asked me.

Not knowing what this had to do with my date, I answered her with a confused, “Here and there, nothing too exciting.”

“Have you ever approached or spoken to a celebrity?” she then asked.

Still confused I told her, “No, what’s your point?” “If you saw a celebrity, you wouldn’t approach the person and start having a full-out conversation, right? And why is that? You’re too nervous, intimidated, whatever…” she said, moving her head in such a way as to suggest that I must realize what she was getting at.

I thought I did, but I wanted to see just how far she was going to push this, so I kept silent.

“Well Annie,” my mother said, “this guy saw you and, for him, it was like seeing a celebrity. He didn’t know what to do. He was probably a little nervous and intimidated and so you can’t blame him for his actions. He probably wasn’t being his normal self. Give him another chance.”

I wish I could say that when Jack called me two days later I handled the whole thing with a mature, “You’re really a great guy, I just don’t think we’re compatible” type of bullshit line. But instead I ignored his call and the subsequent text message and told my mother he never called back.

And just as my mother was about to tell me about the latest available guy she wants to set me up with, Greg, my imaginary boyfriend, came into my life. And the best part is that Greg will buy me a good six months until my mother tells me she needs to sit him down and discuss an engagement timeline.