On a traffic island, at the busy intersection of 63rd Street and Dante Park, stands an steadily unsteady pile of green apples that appear to have tumbled out of a giant cart, moving along Broadway. A lone raven sits on its peak as if jealously guarding it from greedy onlookers.
On my way to work, I walk past this off-beat bronze sculpture by Peter Woytuk titled, “The Falling Apples.” It’s lovely. I wonder if this piece could be made kinetic by converting each apple into rotund fountains that sprinkle cider, infusing the air with a warm, holiday scent?
Another apple art:
What could it be like to wake up inside a house like this?