Memo from NYC

One of my heroes is the great 13th century traveller and chronicler Marco Polo.

A native of Venice, a man of his city, he ventured far away from his hometown, with his father and uncle in 1271, into the vast rich world of Asia. He travelled to China, served in the court of the great Kublai Khan, worked as a representative for him in modern day India and Vietnam and other places, accumulated wealth and myriad experiences, and then returned to Venice in 1295.

Marco subsequently dictated his story to a writer named Rustichello and soon after published history's first bestseller, The Travels of Marco Polo. This book changed history -- Europeans learned about the mindblowing civilizations of the East, their huge cities, their sophistications in money and printing, and so much more. Eventually it inspired other Europeans to travel far and wide -- including Christopher Columbus 200 years later. 

Yours truly, Mr NYC, has actually read this book, probably one of the few people alive who has. 

But first and last, Marco was a Venetian, and for hundreds of years before and after Marco Polo's life, it was the NYC of its time -- an exciting city of islands where "things happened" and fortunes were made -- Venice was the original Crossroads of the World. This BBC article makes the case plainly:  

"Venice at the time was the New York of the world," explained historian Pieralvise Zorzi, whose family traces its roots back to Polo's time and beyond. It was an openminded and multicultural metropolis, a vibrant centre for trade between the East and the West, where the only true religion was business – and the Polo family excelled at it.

Marco Polo died in January, 1324, approximately 700 years ago. But his legend and his city persists. Today there are celebrations in Venice commerating one of their favorite sons. But the Venice of his time no longer exists. As this other article states:

As with all great centers of wealth like London and New York today, Venice glowed even as it slid into political and economic senescence; its residual riches continued to finance art, architecture, music and, though evanescent, a sense of authority and grandeur. Still, at the very end, Venice was becoming little more than a souvenir … the ghosts of the city persist — in Shakespeare’s Othello and The Merchant of Venice, in Thomas Mann’s novella [Death in Venice], J.M.W. Turner’s paintings, in the canals and piazzas clogged with tourists, each looking for a personal Venice.

And so it is today in NYC -- we are a great city of wealth and excitement, people travel here far and wide to find their NYCs, but we risk sliding into being a souvenoir if we don't keep this a city where people can afford to live and work. 

This city must preserve what's great about it -- and not become its own legend.

Marco Polo remains one of my heroes because he experienced a great life, loved his city, and shared it with the world. That is what this blog, in many ways, is all about. 

NYC & Venice: Sisters Forever

Some of you may be familiar with the so-called Sister Cities concept, the idea that certain cities share enough qualities to make them sibling-like entities. This movement began, like so many global initiatives, after World War II, and is run by a group called Sister Cities International. It might not come as a surprise to you that NYC's main sister cities are, among others, London, Beijing, Cairo and Madrid, big international cities all, that set the world's socioeconomic and political agendas.

Makes sense. But I have a different take: if NYC has a real bosom-like sister city, then it can only be one place -- Venice.

Dig this. 

Right now I'm reading (and also watching the Netflix show) about Marco Polo, the famous 13th century adventurer. In 1271, at the age of 17, he traveled from his hometown of Venice deep into the wild world of the Mongol Empire. This was the largest land empire in history to that point, swallowing up all of Mongolia and China and much of what became the Russian Empire (and later the Soviet Union, etc.). Marco spent two decades in service to the empire's great ruler, Kublai Khan. Marco's duties took him all over China, Mongolia, and Asia, including modern day Indonesia and Japan. He was one of the world's first global citizens and his book Travels set imaginations ablaze of distant worlds to be discovered (this book became Christopher Columbus' inspiration and personal bible). Without Marco Polo, history would have unfolded very differently.

And why did Marco hike across Asia, the so-called Silk Road, and into history? What motivated him? 

Money. Business. Trade. Marco came from a family of merchants in a city of merchants (The Merchant of Venice anyone?). 

Unlike other great cities, Venice was not founded primarily as a political or military capital: it was founded for commerce. It's primary raison d'etre was economic, financial, and commercial, not domination and power. It was literally built on water to facilitate the export and import of goods. Traders from around the world could easily land in and depart from this archipelago of trade. And from Venice, Marco Polo found a new world.

Sound familiar? Remind you of someplace else?

Unlike other big international cities, NYC is not a political capital (only temporarily more than two hundred years ago). NYC is and always has been a city of business. A city of commerce, not power. A city more interested in productivity, not ruling. 

And what made NYC the New World's business capital? Same thing as Venice -- water. 

Without the vast harbor, New York would never have become a business leader and America's economic engine. Even today, in this age of airplanes and the Internet, the harbor is one of the city's greatest economic asset. Cargo and cruise ships, and all sorts of commercial vessels, come and ago every day, a whole other city floating off the waterfront. 

   

And NYC is also not only a place for business but a point of entry and a point of departure: for centuries, into the current day, people come to America through NYC and then out into the rest of the country, the Wild West, to discover their futures and fortunes. Manifest Destiny, and so on.

And so I think it's fair to conclude that NYC and Venice have more in common, are more sibling-like, than any other two cities in the world. They are cities of islands, business built on water, beloved by their inhabitants, visited by millions every year, that people come to and sometimes leave to discover the wider world, motivated by the adventurous spirit of these cities. 

They are also, not surprisingly, cities of culture (think of the Met and the Tintorettos), cities of great architecture (think of the Empire State Building and the Doge Palace), cities of lust (think of old school Times Square and Venetian Seduction masks), and cities of diversity (think Chinatown and the Jewish Ghetto). They are cities built upon imagination, yearning, ambition, personal accomplishment -- and, ultimately, hope for a better world.  

So without NYC and Venice, without the drive and determination of their people and the people they've inspired, without creating a culture where human initiative is its primary purpose, the world would be a different, lesser place. These two great cities fit each other perfectly. 

Sisters Forever. 

And I'm sure Venetian Marco Polo would have loved NYC. 

P.S. Here's all my Venice related blog posts from years past. As you can see, it's a city that's always captured this New Yorker's imagination and interest.

  

Memo from NYC

Great cities don't just have beautiful buildings, fun neighborhoods, vibrant economies, wonderful culture, and diverse populations -- they also produce fascinating people. 

New York City has produced so many such people over the centuries that it's impossible to fathom -- just look at this list and it'll blow your mind.

Recently I blogged about Marco Polo, the great Venetian explorer and chronicler. Venice is, obviously, one of the world's greatest cities -- a beautiful city of islands and business, just like NYC -- and not only did it produce history's most famous traveller, it also produced history's most famous lover -- Casanova.

And here's what's crazy to realize -- while Marco Polo lived in the late 13th and early 14th centuries, Casanova lived in the 18th century. That means there was a nearly five-hundred year difference between the lives of these two historic Venetians! And both men are my heroes because they did what any man would love to do -- travel the world, far and wide, and make love to numerous women.

What more could a man want in life?

So it made me happy to learn recently about another fascinating Venetian who lived between these two men -- and was a woman.

Veronica Franco was a 16th century poet and courtesan. She came from a modest, middle-class family in Venice, and into a world where the only thing expected of her was to get married. She did marry -- briefly -- and had several children, but she pursued a career as a high-class, intellectual courtesan in order to have her own money and control her own life. And while she was very beautiful, she was also so smart, so witty, and so intellectually vibrant that men not only paid for her sexual favors but also her company, her conversation, and her humor. 

She also published books of poetry, including one called Familiar Letters to Various People, which was dedicated to the Franch King Henry III (with whom she shared a night of passion and who subsequently gave Venice ships to protect the city from invasion).

Franco was popular but also hated by puritan factions and was eventually put on trial for witchcraft -- but acquitted. She was a fascinating, self-made woman, a real feminist trailblazer.

The legend of Veronica Franco has persisted to the point where, in 1998, a movie about her life was made called Dangerous Beauty. She wasn't royalty, she wasn't rich, she didn't travel far and wide, but she was a one-of-a-kind original, a fearless advocate for herself and all women, as well as fierce patriot of her city, and that's why she's remembered so many centuries after her death. 

P.S. If I had any playwrighting talent, I'd write one about Marco Polo, Veronica Franco, and Casanova meeting in heaven, discussing their amazing lives and life in Venice during their respective centuries. I'd call it the Venice Trio -- any playwright is free to take my bright idea and run with it (I just expect an invite to the premiere). 

Classic Mr NYC

Over the years I've blogged about my love of Venice, the great Italian city of isles that, in some ways, is the true spiritual sister of NYC.

And like NYC, Venice is a city of beauty and inspiration. 

That's why it was fun to read this article about the legendary designer and business Diane von Furstenberg who has recently taken up residence in a Palazzo on the Grand Canal. Like many brilliant people before her, who came to NYC to realize their dreams, she's done the same with Venice. It's a fascinating story.

And, in some ways, she follows in the footsteps of those other great Venetians Marco Polo, Veronica Franco, and Casanova -- as well as countless New Yorkers -- who take their destiny into their own hands.  

The World of Khubilai Khan at the Met

Membership has its privileges and, being members of the Met, the wife and I had the pleasure of catching an advance preview of the new Khubilai Kahn exhibit that officially opens tomorrow. And I strongly suggest you see it ASAP (it runs through January 2).

Called The World of Khubilai Khan: Chinese Art in the Yuan Dynasty, this show examines the impact that the Mongol emperor's dynasty had on the art and culture of China in the 13th century. Unlike other leaders named Khan (Ghengis, the guy in Star Trek II: The Wrath of ...), Khan was what you might call an enlightened despot: he provided religious freedom to Doaists and Buddists, created paper currency and postal services, built roads and waterways, and even established aid agencies (he would probably be viewed by today's Republican Party as a socialist). He also moved the capital of China to what is modern day Beijing and was the emperor that Marco Polo met with (introducing the young Italian to, amongst other things, the noodle).

The art of this period and in this exhibit is fascinating and it is totally unlike Chinese art that I've seen in other exhibits. There are lots of beautiful, long silk scrolls that chronicle the lives of powerful Mongols, jade and golden cups and bowls, and beautiful, gorgeously hand carved statues (including an amazing column that was excavated from Khubilai's "pleasure-dome" Xanadu). What I didn't see was a lot of porcelain pottery and watercolor paintings that you usually see in Chinese art. This art (which, remember, is more Mongolian than Chinese) is very colorful and more formal than most Chinese art. The coolest thing I saw is something that the Mongols put on their front doors called "passports": metal pendants with Mongolian words that must be uttered in order to come into people's homes. We even saw a headstone from this period that was partially in Arabic! (Go figure.)

As a ruler, Khubilai was way, way ahead of his time (by about, oh, six to seven hundred years). And the art in this exhibit demonstrates it: as old as this art is, there is something almost modern and contemporary about it. None of this stuff would feel out of place in an exhibit at a modern art. It goes to show you that art and politics do not necessary progress in a straight line, that there are periods of progress and enlightenment and innovation leavened with periods of regression and ignorance and fear (see Barack Obama vs. Sarah Palin 2010).

The great poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge wrote about Khubilai and composed a poem, the opening lines of which have become very famous (enshrined forever in Citizen Kane):

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea."

NYC Scrapbooking

At the risk of being gauche, allow me to quote myself: a couple of years ago I described this blog as a "pastiche" or "a collage, a repository for memories, a collection of favorite things, a funhouse of nostalgia, a love letter to the past and future, a work of art, a self-contained world that invites you to visit a while and become absorbed in."

You might also call it a scrapbook.

In its way, Mr NYC is a digital scrapbook, roughly defined as a document of precious memories, a collection of souvenirs and mementos, and an opportunity to channel one's inner artist.

Scrapbooks need not be literal books full of pieces of paper and objects of one's past or journey thru life. They can be, more metaphorically speaking, things like diaries or autobiographies or videos -- or blogs like this one -- anything that captures and makes sense of the past and provides tea leaves for the future.

I recently encountered two examples of metaphorical scrapbooking, both of which fascinate me: a new exhibit about Lou Reed at the NYPL that is a collection of his papers, recordings, and various nickknacks, showing the work and evolution of this great and influential NYC musician; and a new novel by, of all people, the actor David Duchovny that is based on his memories of growing up in NYC.

This exhibit and this novel are, in a way, scrapbooks of these two very different NYC artists -- as is this humble blog.

When Anne Frank wrote her diary hiding out in that apartment in Amsterdam or when Marco Polo dictated his memories of China while literally imprisoned, these two people who would otherwise be lost to history instead were made immortal.  They told their stories, they recorded and "scrapbooked" their lives, and in doing so not only made us better understand their times and adventures (told both from the perspective of two people who were literally trapped) but made us understand that the world was a greater place, and the human spirit more indomitable, than we could ever imagine.

Scrapbooking is a great start.