I've lived in New York my whole life. I live now just six or seven miles from the hospital in which I was born, two miles from where I went to college, and fifteen miles from where I went to high school. But my inundations with New York haven't left me jaded or any less wondrous at all it has to offer.
Today Spring is in the air. A long-awaited Spring after a bleak and snowy Winter and the threat of snow as recently as yesterday. But today the air is warm, little tow-headed boys are playing catch with their Jamaican nannies in Central Park, the crocuses and daffodils are blooming and buds are showing their colors on trees that until recently were as grey as old soldiers.
My wife and I took a medium run and ended up by the Frick Collection, where in addition to their usual splendors, there's an exhibit called "Rembrandt and His School: Masterworks from the Frick and Lugt Collections." Dozens and dozens of Rembrandts with only dozens and dozens of viewers. (One of the great things about the Frick is that it's near the Metropolitan, the Whitney and the Guggenheim. These larger museums take the huge tourist crowds, leaving the Frick to cognoscenti and scores of art students copying the Rembrandts.)
No advertising point today. Though I'm sure there's one buried here somewhere in that art that's 350 years old is worthy of study but no one in our business seems to study advertising older than the last awards show.
But like I said, no advertising point today. It's too nice out.
