Hampton & Rabbit: Where you gonna run to?

Fotografiska is a centre for contemporary photography that originated in Sweden and expanded into a majestic neo-renaissance former church mission in Chelsea. Its restoration created ornate terra-cotta construction over bare bones of cast-iron steel which was just plain American ingenuity. The building is a fusion of Swedish modern European progression with Amanda’s confusing influence.

Hamish’s car pulls up to Fotografiska, makes a hard stop at the curb and he ejects onto the steps. Rather than early summer it feels like early spring, where the sun touches you but the air is cool. He is reminded how Manhattan is always fast and infuriating and the noise happens even when he is not there to experience it.

Felix Da Houskat’s recording of “Sinnerman” plays in a continuous loop in his head.

Moments before and blocks away, flying over the East River and arcing down to the heliport, the Magic Kingdom appeared more like living body. Ferries chugged on an algorithm of artificial intelligence drawn shipping lanes like a circulatory system. Similarly, airplanes painted an asymmetrical web across the sky connecting cirrus clouds like a brain’s neural network.

Fotografiska in neither white-boxed nor a museum. In the entrance exhibit, Amanda is both influence and definition like innovation and apple pie. Hamish is even reminded back to his office which Amanda designed. Dark walls and focused lighting provide one with the feeling they are visiting a friend with an impressive photography collection. The ground floor salon also features a triptych version of Hamish’s black surfboard called, “Triple Gidget”. Amanda’s Montauk-Girl, the rest of Michael Dweck’s Mermaids and the surfers that chase them in the waves are the feature exhibit.

Hamish’s push of the door to Amanda’s office thunders through the passage chamber as it hits resistance. The door is locked.

A security guard turns the corner into the passage and makes large unimpressed steps toward him. Now a few feet away after the uncomfortable brief moment it took him to arrive he commands, “No one is in the management offices today and no one is supposed to be here. Can I help you?”

He is oblivious, disinterested or uncaring for Hamish’s celebrity, his familiarity to the board and his connection to mermaid Montauk girl.

Hamish turns to look the security guard in the eye and returns his indifference to him with a kind courtesy and then he vacates. As he walk away, he swipes his hand, scooping up the entire building into the small of his hand.

The “Where you gonna run to” lyrics of Felix’s ‘Sinnerman’ re-loop.

Verōnika, the patron saint of photography is upstairs. That’s where he goes.

Verōnika’s ceiling reaches infinitely. Wide apertures of windows allow flattering light to run through the grand European style dining room.

Hamish walks through the bar and past the hostess who looks up and through him. She then nods her head down ignoring him as if he were a ghost as she returns to prodding into a tablet with her index fingers.

The dining room reminds Hamish of the paradox that is New York City: so many people jammed up against each other creates obstacles for them to meaningfully connect. Two-by-two close seating construction is the perfect example. For the very purpose of commerce, everyone is seated too intimately next to a stranger and in opposing-party style to their guest.

As he walks the aisle between the tables he feels like a Dark Knight in a Battlestar commanding an array of minions seated at their controls. Angry that he does not see Amanda, he pulls out a light saber and swipes it through the legs of the low sitting dining chairs as he makes large strides through the room and out again.

In a moment of quiet meditation Hamish realizes that he might need some ‘intel’ as the mission nears probability of fail.

Hamish talks, “Hey Siri, call Amanda.”

Reaching her voicemail, her sweet voice sings, “ Hi, if you leave a message I’ll promise to call you back a long, long time before never.” The slowed expression on “long, long time” reading like a fairytale provides comfort to everyone but Hamish.

The “Run to the rock” lyrics of Felix’s ‘Sinnerman’ loop in his head.

The Clocktower is where he will go. As Hamish steps out to the street, his handler’s eyes meet his and then the handler rapidly lifts his index finger to a circle above his head, a tactical hand gesture for ‘Rally Point’.

Hamish reciprocates with a tactical ‘Hold” of open fist held at head height, his steps now syncopating with the clap of Felix’s ‘Sinnerman’.

Hamish’s decision to walk the open streets just two diagonal blocks away has been emboldened by a politeness, indifference or even an irrelevance for his celebrity that he has experienced on today’s mission to find Amanda. Hamish, for now, is not interested in battling out which one it is.

The Clocktower is a similar renaissance revival skyscraper, this one made more modern and streamlined by the removal of most its ornamentation. The Michelin starred Clocktower restaurant is on the second floor of the connected former MetLife office building.

Inside the lobby, Hamish appraises the options. An elevator bank or an almost hidden spiral staircase. He does not have the patience for slow mechanics and for losing control with the lazy protocol of the elevator. The staircase is where he goes.

“Don’t you see I need you, rock?” Lyrics from Felix’s ‘Sinnerman’ loop in his head.

Hamish does not lose breath or senses as he takes a step, another, two full steps, three, five and then repeat that sequence as he spirals in leaps up to the second floor.

Wood-panels and framed pictures of New York’s desired and discarded cover every measurement of the restaurant’s three dining rooms. An additional room with a purple felt billiards table causes the space to play out like a private members club.

As Hamish reaches the hostess she looks up to him and into his eyes. Her long brown hair folded to the side falls to partially cover her green eyes. She is an elegant butterfly with a welcoming smile. There are few occasions where Hamish counts on his celebrity and at the table of a host is one of them. As he greets her and she responds, he realizes they are in different dimensions. She is looking into his eyes and talking into an AirPod hidden under the fall of her hair. With absolute disconnect she then looks down into a note pad and confirms a reservation while carefully noting details into the book.

Hamish is left hanging, one hand at the end of stretched, suffering arm and sharp grains of granite cutting into my finger tips, that style.

He feels this happens too often now and he hears Felix scream “Good Lord, Lord.”

In his parallel dimension, through the bar over the billiard table and into an adjoining dining room on a green velvet chair Hamish sees Amanda.

Amanda’s head jerks into a surprised smile that’s seems poorly acted. Does he ever surprise her? She is all knowing. She smiles and scoffs a laugh, “Oh, we’re doing this, handsome?” Her face is enlightened.

As Hamish drops on the bench next to her, she glances up at a motionless and emotionless waiter, personal attendant, almost butler standing elegantly off to her side. Amanda tilts her head toward Hamish in a gesture for the attendant to bring him a plate of whatever she’s having. He seems to get the message.

While looking at Hamish, Amanda’s wide open polar neck cashmeres sweater hides her mouth but when she looks up to the attendant, her red smile appears.

When Hamish realizes his plate is now empty and pushes it away, he feels like he had not taken a bite. The act of eating and conversing with Amanda is lost time and he has no recollection of any of it.

Truthfully, he hadn’t taken his eyes off Amanda and she seemed to become prettier while he was doing it.

Amanda leads their exit and she simply ticks a check held out for her on a silver plate by her attendant. She kisses Hamish on the side of the mouth and steps alone into a discreetly lit black marble elevator alcove.

Amanda says to him, “I guess I’ll see you where I usually see you,” as she puts two hands together on an angle by the side of her head, which Hamish infers to mean, ‘in bed’.

As her silhouette floats into the elevator, he can still feel the bite of her kiss. He takes out his phone and takes a picture which turns out to be a blur of indigo cut with sharp shards of reflections from the discreet LED lights.

Hostess attentively speaks, “Mr Westfield! It’s good to see you. Are you joining us today?”

Hamish turns to see that beautiful young snowflake hostess, now smiling and engaged has somehow made it back into his co-presence from ‘dimension millennial’ or wherever she was.

Hamish responds without looking back, “No. Thank you. I’m actually just leaving”.

Hamish chases off after Amanda into an opening elevator door and past a group of people who turn with recognition for him and whisper his name to each other.

As he walks through the lobby, heads turn toward him and the doorman breaks into a smile as he steps aside to open the door. Hamish points at him and winks which widens his smile even further.

As Hamish steps outside he sees Amanda in the middle of the cobbled street.

Amanda asks him, “Are you ok, Handsome?”

“Yes,” Hamish responds unconvincingly.

Amanda reassures him, “I’m going to try connect with an important man for a surprise for you. Ok?” Amanda’s arms reach around his neck, she tilts her head and she pulls him to her kiss and then she skips off.

A few skips away, she turns, grins and laughs saying, “You know what they say! Watch your back, Jack,” and she points behind him.

Hamish turns around and sees a group of people fanning around behind him.

“So I run to the Lord. Please hide me, Lord” Lyrics from Felix’s ‘Sinnerman’ loop.

Hamish quickly lifts his index finger to a circle above his head.

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