Grand Central Terminal

Behind the Painting

I’ve painted Grand Central Terminal every year I’ve lived in New York. Even before I came to the city, I was drawing the ceiling in anticipation of my move.

How did I paint Grand Central? I started with the curves of the green ceiling, exacting sharp lines for the window arches.

I added the color of the floor, somehow gold and tan and red and green all at once, the turquoise ceiling and the stars reflected back up, this time in the correct configuration.

I carved out the shadows in Moonglow. Light washes of columns and walls and the information booth.

Thirty of forty FBI agents lined up on the stairs in front of me for a photo op. A guy with close cropped hair wearing a not-so-discrete holster.

“You mind moving for one minute?” He gestured to a half empty Modelo someone had left beside me. “Is that yours?” Boy do I wish. I moved my paints and he moved the mystery beer.

I waited for the photo to finish and the paint to dry, then dotted in a few people. Dark outlines. Some standing, some hurrying. Details in the windows and the stonework.

Then, I gave in to the idea of control. More people, some pausing on balconies, some standing silently with protest signs. The hands of the clock, the curve of the constellations. The curve of the steps and the bold brass railings right in front of me.

I ended with the shadows. Or were they reflections? Mirrored shapes of people. A thin layer of paint on the marble floor.