Essential Shore / Permeable Future…  Ferry Event

Essential Shore / Permeable Future…  Ferry Event

On Saturday, May 3, I had the pleasure of leading a special event aboard the ferry between Corlears Hook and Bay Ridge, organized through the Ferry Community Outreach Initiatives & Jeannine Bardo, director of Stand4 Gallery, as part of the exhibition Essential Shore / Permeable Future, curated by Jennifer McGregor. My focus for this project was the Purple Sandpipers—a migratory, medium-sized shorebird that winters along the Shore Promenade in Bay Ridge, right by the Belt Parkway. They arrive from their high Arctic breeding grounds in Northern Canada in late November or early December and stay with us until late April or early May. By the time of the event, the Purple Sandpipers had already migrated north for the season, so we didn’t get to see them. To make up for it, here is a PDF with more information about the Purple Sandpipers and details about my installation, for those who couldn’t make it to the gallery. The exhibition runs through June 21, so let me know if you plan to visit—I’d love to meet you.

This blog offers a few impressions, documentation, and glimpses—including notes from the day itself, as well as reflections and materials related to its preparation. Uncertain about the weather, I had prepared some materials in case we had to remain inside the ferry. Fortunately, it turned out to be a gorgeous, sunny day, and we were able to observe from the deck, followed by a lovely stroll on the pier and through the Narrows Botanical Garden.

The group included longtime residents of the Lower East Side, Brooklynites from Bed-Stuy & Sunset Park, and myself from Bay Ridge. While the tour focused primarily on birds and nature, I always feel it’s important to contextualize and better understand the shores we journey alongside. I gathered some basic information—some of it drawn from a previous project—to share with the group, and since we didn’t have time to cover everything during the ferry ride, I’m collecting it here as a memento.

First, the list of birds & creatures we saw along our excursion:
Double-crested Cormorant, Laughing Gull, Ring-billed Gull, Herring Gull, Great Black-backed Gull, American Black Duck, Brant, Canada Geese, Common Tern, House Sparrow, Gray Catbird, Common Grackle, Mourning Dove, Fish Crow (and their nest), Painted Turtle, Box Turtle.

Since we boarded the ferry at Corlears Hook…

Corlears Hook holds a rich and layered history, evolving from a Lenape settlement to a Dutch farm, a site of colonial violence, a bustling 19th-century port, and later, an infamous red-light district. The name comes from Jacobus van Corlaer, a 17th-century Dutch schoolmaster, and also from the shape of the land itself—jutting into the East River like a hook. In the 1820s, the area became notorious for its brothels and, according to some sources, even gave rise to the term “hooker.”

Indigenous Presence and Displacement

Originally marshland, Corlears Hook was used by the Mareckawick group of the Canarsee tribe—part of the Lenape nation—as a canoe landing site. The settlement, called Naghtongh, was covered in swamps and beach land. The Wecquaesgeek, a Munsee-speaking band of the Wappingers people (closely related to the Lenape), lived along the east bank of the Hudson in what is now the Bronx and Westchester.

On February 25, 1643, Dutch Governor Willem Kieft launched coordinated attacks on Weckquaesgeek and Tappan encampments at Corlears Hook and Pavonia (across the river in present-day New Jersey). That night, 120 Native men, women, and children were massacred—an event that remains a brutal marker of early colonial violence. More info here

Manhattan: The Name and Its Meaning

The name Manhattan originates from the Lenape language, specifically Munsee. The word manaháhtaan combines manah- (“gather”), -aht- (“bow”), and -aan, a grammatical element used to form verb stems. It’s often translated as “the place where we get bows” or “place for gathering the (wood to make) bows.” This name, still in use today, carries with it traces of the island’s original use and inhabitants.

The Brooklyn Bridge

The Brooklyn Bridge was the first fixed bridge to connect Manhattan and Brooklyn across the East River. Designed by German immigrant John A. Roebling, construction began in 1870 and the bridge officially opened on May 24, 1883. At the time, it was the longest suspension bridge in the world, stretching 1.1 miles. Before its construction, ferries were the primary means of crossing between Manhattan and Brooklyn. The bridge not only revolutionized transportation but also physically united two formerly separate cities—Brooklyn and New York—forever changing the shape of the city.

Roebling died of tetanus after a surveying accident crushed his foot, and his son, Washington Roebling, took over the project. Washington later developed caisson disease—commonly known as “the bends”—while working in the pressurized foundations. Though physically incapacitated, he continued to oversee construction with the crucial assistance of his wife, Emily Warren Roebling. The bridge took 13 years to complete and claimed the lives of 27 workers.

It’s also worth noting that U.S. Senator Henry Cruse Murphy—considered a founding father of Brooklyn—drafted the bill authorizing the construction of the bridge from his mansion, which once stood on the grounds of what is now Owl’s Head Park in Bay Ridge. He also founded The Brooklyn Eagle and served as one of its first editors, shaping both the physical and cultural landscape of the borough.

In 2005, while researching for another project, I wrote a song in honor of the Brooklyn Bridge. It was later recorded and included on my album The Bi-Continental Chowder. You can listen to the track below with photo taken then.

Liberty Enlightening the World

As the ferry continued south, we passed the Statue of Liberty. Officially titled Liberty Enlightening the World, the statue was a gift of friendship from the people of France to the United States. It was dedicated by President Grover Cleveland on October 28, 1886.

Constructed in France over the course of nine years (1875–1884), the statue was then disassembled, shipped across the Atlantic, & reassembled on Liberty Island in just four months after the pedestal was completed. The full process—from initial conception in 1865 to final dedication in 1886—spanned 21 years and required massive fundraising efforts in both France and the United States.

PAGGANK a.k.a : Governors Island

Originally known to the Lenape people as Paggank (“Nut Island”) for its abundance of nut-bearing trees, the island was later named Noten Eylandt by the Dutch, then Anglicized to Nutten Island, and finally became Governors Island by the late 18th century. In 1755, during the French and Indian War—a North American theater of the global Seven Years’ War—the island was first used as a military installation. The war saw British colonies (population ~2 million) clash with French colonies (~60,000), each side supported by different Native American allies. The French, being outnumbered, relied heavily on their Native alliances.

Bay Ridge: A Neighborhood with Deep Roots
Our final stop was Bay Ridge, located in southwestern Brooklyn—a neighborhood with a rich history dating back to the 17th century. Originally part of the Dutch town of New Utrecht, the area was once known as Yellow Hook, named for the color of its soil.

During the American Revolution, Bay Ridge played a small but strategic role due to its location along New York Harbor and proximity to the Narrows. On August 22, 1776, British troops under General William Howe landed near what is now Bay Ridge, using the shoreline as a staging ground for the Battle of Long Island (also known as the Battle of Brooklyn), the first major battle following the Declaration of Independence. The British landed just south of Bay Ridge, near Gravesend Bay, and advanced north through Brooklyn, eventually outflanking and defeating American forces led by General George Washington. The loss forced the Continental Army to retreat to Manhattan, preserving its strength for future battles.

Narrows Botanical Gardens: A Community Oasis
Established in 1995 by local volunteers, the Narrows Botanical Gardens transformed 4.5 acres of neglected parkland along Shore Road between Bay Ridge Avenue and 72nd Street into a vibrant green space. This community-led initiative features a variety of themed gardens, including a lily pond, butterfly garden, Zen garden, and a Native Plant Garden with a turtle sanctuary. It also serves as a sanctuary site for the Wild Bird Fund, offering a safe habitat for recovering and released birds. Maintained entirely by community volunteers, the gardens are a beloved oasis for both people and wildlife in Bay Ridge. They host various events throughout the year.

To me, it was a really special day—full of small discoveries, good company, and moments of connection across neighborhoods. I’m deeply grateful to everyone who joined, shared, and made time to be part of it.
Special thanks to Jeannine Bardo, director of Stand4, and to Sarah and Anika from the Ferry Community Outreach team for making it all possible.
I hope these notes, reflections, and glimpses offer something back to those who were with us, and to those following along from afar. You can view the full album of photos from the day and the exhibition here. Meanwhile à bientôt ! and keep in touch!

Essential Shore / Permeable Future

Essential Shore / Permeable Future

As most of you know by now, Pierre left us on February 26th. It’s now mid-April, and I can’t say it’s getting any easier. The waves of grief still surge with great intensity—but, as he instructed us:

not to worry:
you had your birth
given you / you
will be
given your death —

in between
keep moving


Pierre Joris (1946-2025)

And so, we move on—back to the work he so fully supported us in doing. A few weeks ago, I wrote this blog reflecting on our Domopoetics—e.i. our shared life & collaboration—& posted photos about his earthing here.
Before he passed, Pierre had completed two books that will be published as follow:

Fall 2025: Poasis II: Selected Poems 2000–2024 (Wesleyan University Press, 2026)
Early 2026: In Between Keep Moving: A Pierre Joris Reader — edited by Ariel Resnikoff & Pierre Joris (Contra Mundum Press, 2026)
Many gatherings, readings, conferences, & celebrations of Pierre’s life and work are currently being scheduled. I’ll continue to share updates as more details come in.

Meanwhile, let me share a personal update that’s very dear to me. It is such an honor to be among the artists selected for:

Essential Shore / Permeable Future
Bay Ridge Public Art & Ecology Biennial

April 19 – June 21, 2025
Curated by Jennifer McGregor

Opening Reception Saturday April 19 , 3:00 – 6:00
the Gallery opens for viewing 12:00

Stand4 Gallery 
414 78th Street
Bay Ridge, Brooklyn New York 11209 US MAP

Participating Artists:
Cynthia AlbertoGraciela CasselBetsy DamonThomas GallagherSunk Shore: Clarina Mac Low and Carolyn HallJan MunAngel Nevarez/Valerie TevereSeema Lisa PandyaNicole PeyrafitteAnna Bessie Ratner (The Other Almanac), Hannah SalyerBrooke Singer.

When I was invited to submit a project for the Essential Shore / Permeable Future exhibition, I knew it had to be compatible with our current domopoetic life—which had come to include serious health challenges. It had to be something rooted in care, resilience, & presence—something that could fold within the unpredictable, fragmented rhythm of our days, & it did.

The title of my piece is Amor de Lohn: Calidris maritima (Love from Afar: Purple Sandpipers). It is part of my ongoing Bird State project, & this iteration focuses on the presence of a colony of High-Arctic breeders that winter along Shore Road & Gravesend Bay, just steps from our home. For years, the Purple sandpipers’ return has been a quiet source of strength for me. Documenting them—through photography, video, writing, and drawing—became a practice I could sustain in brief, nourishing moments, attuned to the tide, the weather, and the shifting rhythm of our days, all while staying close to Pierre.

For years, we observed, counted, & loved “the Purples” together. This year, he couldn’t go see them—but I brought them to him. He watched the videos, saw the painting in progress, read the early text drafts, the photos, & what would become the exhibition poster. He was proud, supportive, encouraging, & wanted me to carry on —I promised I would.

This work is dedicated to Pierre, with all the love that shaped it.

Photo by Betsy Damon

Website for the exhibition & programming is here but here are the events I will be part of:

— May 3rd : I will lead a Bird Tour on NYC Ferry  (details coming soon)
— June 11 : Part of the Film Screening at Alpine Cinema (evening)

I am deeply grateful to Jennifer McGregor (curator) & Jeannine Bardo (gallery director) for their supportive, loving & caring curation through such a challenging time.
I hope to see you at the opening, but if you can’t make it, let me know & we’ll find another day to go together.

 Resist! Persit & Care!
Nicole

Unfathomable Sadness/Emptiness

Unfathomable Sadness/Emptiness

Pierre Joris: July 14, 1946 – February, 26 2024

My husband, my collaborator, the soulful father, stepfather & brother, —our poet– left our material world on Wednesday, February 26.
He passed very peacefully at our home in Brooklyn, Bay Ridge—just as he wished—held by the ones he loved and who loved him so deeply. Pierre was born in Strasbourg on July 14, 1946. Though a Luxembourgish citizen, Pierre was born in Strasbourg, where his parents were living while his father completed his medical studies.

Almost a month has passed, but the absence is still vast & unfathomable. Our lives were so deeply entwined. I’m not expecting to feel better any time soon, but I will ride the wave of grief as it comes.

On February 28, we held his earthing ceremony at Green-Wood Cemetery. With less than 24 hours’ notice, we were so moved to see a group of at least 70—several generations of friends from now & then, many poets—waiting for us at the gates of Green-Wood, gathered on a sunny, crisp morning to accompany him to the resting place he had chosen. Charles Bernstein, Tracy Grinnell, Randall Horton, Yasmine Seale, Joseph Mastantuono, Miles Joris-Peyrafitte, & I read poems. Marty Ehrlich closed our ceremony with a soulful rendition of Monk’s Mood. In the afternoon, more joined us at Sunny’s Bar in Red Hook—a place he loved—to raise a glass in his honor.

I met Pierre in California, at the home of the wonderful German writer Reinhard Lettau. I was 29. Recently divorced, raising my 7-year-old son, Joseph. I always wanted a life without boundaries between art and domesticity. That’s how our Domopoetics came to be. We had amazing role models—primarily Diane & Jerry Rothenberg, and also, very present at that time, Eleanor & David Antin.

When Pierre was offered a position at SUNY Albany, we moved to New York State. That’s where Miles was born—into the Domopoetic nest the three of us had started to build.

Pierre was—and will always be—an integral part of my becoming. I was fortunate to share 35 years with him. Such deep communion is the gift that lives within this deep grief. He was a loving soul dedicated to his family & to his craft beyond measure.

Our Domopoetics was part of our daily life, it also took shape through performances, presentations, talks, translations, cooking (watch our cooking videos during covid here) , & giving poetry readings. The most expansive iterations were presented at Galerie Simoncini (Luxembourg) in 2017 and 2021. Each time, we were given carte blanche and all three floors of the gallery to create site-specific installations and to present new work and performances developed especially for the space.

Traveling together was a frequent part of our shared life & work. I prepared & ran the visual components for Pierre’s presentations—on Paul Celan, whose complete oeuvre he translated into English, & on Poems for the Millennium, the anthology series he co-edited: two volumes with Jerome Rothenberg & one with Habib Tengour. These events took place at some of the most prestigious universities & cultural institutions. I listened to these talks countless times, yet I learned something new at every single one. I also illustrate &/or made the cover many of many of his books.

Pierre’s thinking was brilliant & far-reaching—rooted in serious, rigorous scholarship, yet always infused with wit & sharp insight. His restless, searching spirit was—and will always be—my guide, my grounding force. Not a memory, but a presence. & from the many messages I’ve received, I know he inspired & continues to enlighten many others.

Before he passed, Pierre had completed two books that will be published as follow:
Fall 2025: Poasis II: Selected Poems 2000–2024 (Wesleyan University Press, 2026)
Early 2026: In Between Keep Moving: A Pierre Joris Reader — edited by Ariel Resnikoff & Pierre Joris (Contra Mundum Press, 2026)
Many gatherings, readings, conferences, & celebrations of Pierre’s life & work are in the process of being scheduled. I’ll continue to share updates through his social media & ours as this unfolding continues.

Our family is profoundly grateful for the outpouring of love & sympathy we’ve received. So many of you have shared stories, memories, & reflections—each one a thread in the vast fabric of connection that Pierre wove throughout his life. He would have been astonished. Truly—he never believed he made such an impact. But oh, how deeply he did!

We are determined to carry his œuvre forward, to make it known & let it bloom across generations & countries. Meanwhile read Pierre’s books and visit his webpage !
to be continued…..

Obit in the NYTimes

Poetry Project : Domopoetics Karstic Actions/Works

Poetry Project : Domopoetics Karstic Actions/Works

February 28, 2024 event at the Poetry Project, NYC .

On 02/28/2024 Pierre & I had a wonderful time presenting Domopoetics: Karstic Action/Works at The Poetry Project. We weaved & braided our individual & shared travails. Domopoetics is the name we give to 34 years of daily practices in transforming & intertwining our lives & works, be it through writing, painting, video, physical conditioning, cooking & all other shared household activities. Karstic refers to the geological phenomena of dissolution & transformation at work in the formation of superficial or underground limestone topographies. Here it is taken literally & figuratively as nature & cave explorations are an important part of our process.

Featuring a guest introduction by Urayoán Noel —who was a tough act to follow. This is the best intro we could have had! Thank you dear Ura!

Thank you  Keir GoGwilt for your inspiring & soulful improvised music.

Thank you all for coming, we were overwhelmed by the crowed room filled with a great mix of old & younger friends. 
 
If you missed it below is the Livestream of the event:

Thank you: Miles Joris-Peyrafitte, SiuLi & Chris GoGwilt for the photos.

Sympoietic Walk/Shop Report

Sympoietic Walk/Shop Report

On October 28 2023 I lead a Sympoietic Walk/shop thru Constitution Marsh. We were blessed by a sunny, warm, gorgeous fall day. I left Brooklyn at 7am and after a smooth ride among the fall foliage along Palisades Parkways I arrived early as I wanted to take in the marsh before the group gathered. I was greeted by a dozen wild turkeys, and shortly after by the lovely Lucy Oakes, the Educator-Naturalist of Constitution Marsh. Our group of participants gathered on time in the exhibition room, where a large screen showed my short slide-show introduction before walking up to the trail and embarking on our silent walk. Below is a summary of my presentation and my report of the day.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Presentation material & background:

I like to take the term Sympoiesis —or “making-with” — quite literally, so while researching how to present what I thought would be a meaningful land acknowledgment I came across a 1685 map that listed in detail the native tribes of the area.

I shared the map with poet Mary Newell, who lives in the area, had introduced me to Constitution Marsh & attended the walk. As we exchanged information around the area Mary shared the land acknowledgment suggested to her by Evan T. Pritchard, a Micmac scholar and author of the must-read book, Native New Yorkers : The Legacy of the Algonquin People of New York.

“I acknowledge the former inhabitants of this land, the Nochpeem ( a “misty place” sachemdom (nation) of the Wappingers Confederacy, especially the Kestkistkonk people,  (prominent sun mountain / principle place near the mountains) who cared for the land around what is now Garrison. I honor their enduring presence and their descendants and emulate their ways of enacting a vital connection to the living earth”  

 

Geological Information:

Even though it was just a quick overview of the geological layout of the regionI wanted to convey a sense of how ancient this land formation is. Constitution Marsh is part of the Hudson Highlands State Park. The bedrock of the Highlands is part of the Reading Prong and more than a billion years old, formed during the Grenville Orogeny. It represents the very core of the Appalachian range, which has been formed by successive mountain-building events (orogenies). The Grenville orogeny was a long-lived Mesoproterozoic mountain-building event associated with the assembly of the supercontinent Rodinia. I have long been fascinated looking at formations that not only pre-date our current earth configuration, but three “shapings” before ours! Also shown on the map is the appearance of fauna & flora, including us in the upper right edge — and not to scale!

I concluded the short presentation with a few words about the Hudson River, basically reading the slide below. I will expand here on my relationship to the river: I have lived in New York State since 1992 and always close to the River. From 1992-2007 in Albany, N.Y.; then in 2007 I moved to Bayridge, 5 blocks from the Verrazano Narrows and now, since 2009, to a place looking directly at the Narrows. Looking at rivers is always potent and mesmerizing. I grew up at the foot of the highest Pyrenean mountain peaks, and as a child I was spellbound by the streams rushing  through my hometown. These loud, powerful streams came from all the way “up there,” i.e., the high mountains weighing down on us and rushing to the Ocean… To the sea! At that time the sea felt so faraway and the rivers’ journey triggered profound feelings of speed, motion and possibilities. Gazing intensely at currents pulled me in, but at the same time out of, what I felt was, a very claustrophobic upbringing & geography. When we would travel to the big town of Toulouse, by car or train, and would cross or drive along the river Garonne, I would ask my mother if it was the same river as “ours”, and  she would answer: “Yes! It is, but many tributaries feed it along the way.” To this day I still have vivid memories about carefully drawing all tributaries of the Garonne on my geography notebook in elementary school and grasping that “we” were at the beginning of its 529km (329 miles) journey gave me an insight that never left me. 

The goal of the walk was for everyone to grasp, receive and make-with this majestic environment, or in other words: to “apprehend” the more-than-human locale in the first etymological sense of the word which is “grasping with the senses or the mind”.

The Walk:

Off we went.  My response-ability as the group leader was severalfold. Firstto be mindful of the safety of the group. As I mentioned aboveour walk was going to be silent, unless there were emergencies. We were a small group and decided to stay together until we reached the boardwalk. Lucy walked out front and I closed the walk. We would point out birds or communicate by simple eye contact & facial expression. Once we reached the boardwalk some of us waded thru the marshes, while others stayed on benches and drew, painted, looked at samples of plants, took photos. I noticed everyone settled with some silent activities so I proceeded to make the full round of the boardwalk, knowing I would get wet. In some areas the water was halfway up my calves so I got wet but didn’t mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Walking slowly and mindfully through the flooded marshes during peak high tide brought a tranquil internal force. This potent sensation was generated by the Atlantic Ocean’s upstream influx and at the same time by the mighty stream coming down from the Adirondacks. As the tide is felt all the way to Troy NY, the Native names reveal these movements:  one Iroquois name is  Cahohatatea, “river that comes from the mountains”  — most likely above Troy; then it becomes Muh-he-kun-ne-tuk for the Mohicans, Shatemuc for the Lenape of Manhattan and both these names means “river that flows both ways.” 

So here I was walking  among alevins, varieties of fading and decaying vegetation, above and around crows, a great blue heron, a great egret, cormorants, and many other birds slicing thru the blue sky, all accompanied by the sound track of the gentle breeze thru the cattails and on occasion a very loud intrusion by the Amtrak train and, even more intrusivethe echo of West Point Academy testing out their mikes for whatever event was about to start. I practiced keeping the internal tranquil force, treating the “disturbances”as part of the sympoiesis of the moment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I returned to the group & before hiking back to the center I pulled out my traveling drum & oyster shells for a moment of tuning & toning together. I like bouncing the shell on the drum, I don’t know if it is an ancient custom or not but I started doing it when I played the drum for Betsy Damon’s performance a couple of years ago. Betsy, a very early eco-feminist activist, taught me a lot about water. Every collaboration or visit with her is a teaching moment. In her book Water Talks she writes: Creativity is an ever-flexible, expansive process available to everyone — not only all humans, but also the entire living universe.” And during lectures and conversation she often repeats: “listen to the water,” “water is our teacher.” So bouncing the shell on the drum becomes a very organic drumming experience, which I can’t really describe. All I know is that the experience integrates my body and my mind the way my Karstic-Actions do (see the Karstic-Action “Be Like Water here.) I passed the drum around and before we knew it we were all engaged in some drumming or, clapping, dancing in a round, deep breaths in, deep breaths out….all self generated organic movements. We then gathered and took the trail again, still mostly in silence.

Back:

Once we reached the Audubon Center, we regathered around the table after a little personal break and one after the others we shared our experiences.

I am encouraging the participants to write their own accounts (please send it if you want me to publish it or write in the comment box) as I certainly don’t want to speak for them. HoweverI have a sense from what came out of the conversations that the experience was positive. Remaining silent during the walk was mentioned and appreciated as a factor of switching the energy and allowing a different focus. It does, and it allows to make other sensorial connections that are by-passed by the constant use of language.  They also mentioned that they touched more.” By by-passing language, physical presence & gaze become different. May I suggest that they become literately more mindful? But this is for another essay and to be continued. 

 

I am very grateful to the Constitution Marsh Audubon Center and Sanctuary to have given me this opportunity. Thank you, Rebecca Schultz (director) and Lucy Oakes (Educator-Naturalist and our gracious hosts), Mary Newell who introduced me to the Marsh and last, but certainly not least, to the spirited participants. Their genuine, sympoietic engagement & contribution allowed us to becomewith and -through each other. 

Watching the tide rise

 

Art work and photos by participants

Caitlin’s drawing

Geri’s plain-air painting

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Lucy’s Photos

 

 

 

 

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