THE MUSEUM · ROOMS 112 TO 183
The city behind
the city.
72 rooms opened in THE MUSEUM after the first 111, and the count keeps climbing: working worlds, landmarks, the city in motion, houses of worship, the night markets and the parks, Penn Station as it stood, a Crystal Palace, and a Hall of Fame for every honorary New Yorker. Each one hangs the New Yorkers who belong there and keeps New York time. Tap a room and you are standing in it.
JUST OPENED

The honoraries
Stanford White's Hall of Fame for Great Americans, the 630 foot colonnade on the heights over the Harlem River, and the Gould Memorial Library it wraps, rebuilt as the house of every honorary New Yorker MLow has painted. Under the coffered dome and its Tiffany laylight, sixteen green Connemara marble columns ring a drum hung floor to ceiling with portraits in three tiers. A vaulted passage of census works leads west to the colonnade, where each bay holds two more over a bronze tablet with the names, and the river and the Palisades lie beyond the parapet. Stand on the bronze laurel in the middle of the rotunda and the dome calls a name.
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The arrival
MLow's airport, landed in the census as the room for The Arrival. From the air Terminal B reads as the evil eye, an almond plaza with a blue glass dome for an iris, and its seven gate pods open like the blossom. You arrive under the dome, among check in islands and the departures board, walk the gallery concourse where the census hangs in the terminal's own frames, and come out in the blossom gate hub among the seven sculptures. Through the glass, MW317 rolls down the runway and climbs away. Stand on the blossom in the middle of the hub and it is cleared for you.
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The glass house
The New York Crystal Palace of 1853, the iron and glass hall of the first world's fair in America, which stood where Bryant Park is and burned to the ground in 1858, raised again as a gallery. You come off Sixth Avenue into a Greek cross of glass under a stained glass dome that throws its colours across the floor wherever the real New York sun puts them. Red damask screens down the nave, an iron fountain, a beam engine with its flywheel turning, and in the north arm the evening it burned, the glass melting into signal. Step onto the open platform under the dome and it carries you up into the colour, the rope is cut, and the pawls hold. Stand still before any work and the dome finds it.
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The hall New York lost
The Pennsylvania Station of 1910, the station New York pulled down from October 1963, raised again as the census hall of the New Yorkers. You come in off Seventh Avenue through the Doric colonnade and a row of brass turnstiles, down the arcade and the grand stair into the travertine waiting room under its coffered vault, where light falls through the lunettes on the side the real sun is on. Past the census desk the hall breaks: one side intact, the other half demolished under a swinging ball, and beyond it the steel and glass concourse at night, drawn in dots. Stand still before any work and it comes apart into colour; give your wallet or name at the desk and a light finds yours.
Walk inside ↗EVERY ROOM SINCE 111, NEWEST FIRST

Columbus Park at seven
Seven in the morning, everyone already here
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Three in the morning at Hunts Point
Sodium light, cold air, forklifts
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The lights of Dyker Heights
December, snow, every bulb on the block
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The Queens Night Market
Saturday night, a hundred tents, eighty countries
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The cube at Astor Place
Push it and it turns
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The shelf over the expressway
Late afternoon, the harbour going gold
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The last week of April
Petals on everything
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Shakespeare in the Park
Curtain at eight, the castle lit behind the stage
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The sea lion pool
Feeding time, and the clock about to play
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A room and a garden
Granite, lindens, the river on both sides
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The Little Red Lighthouse
Late afternoon under the great gray bridge
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The lawn behind the library
Lunch hour on the lawn, a film after dark
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The Greenmarket and the Metronome
Market day, the whole city passing through
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Eighty feet under Liberty Street
Bedrock, steel, and a door that turns
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The loop under City Hall
A 6 train turning round under 1904
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The locked park
Behind the railings, a key away
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Two towers on 67th
Afternoon, school letting out
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The oldest congregation
Morning on the avenue, candles inside
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Jerusalem stone on 63rd
Friday afternoon, stone, wood and light
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The Ohel
A quiet afternoon, candles lit
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Seven seventy
Afternoon on the Parkway, the hall below full
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The Jewish Center
Shul, school and swimming pool in one tall house
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Kehilath Jeshurun
A school afternoon on a rowhouse street
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Temple Emanu-El
Late afternoon, a gold arch and one red light
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The golden book
Afternoon on the library steps
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The biscuit factory
Brick, pipes and lunch
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An afternoon at the Plaza
Tea under the glass
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The yard in Owego
Summer noon, the shredder running
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The gold wall
The General Debate, a speaker at the rostrum
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The bridge over the Lake
October, oars in the water
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Washington Street
Everybody stops for the same picture
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The nave on Fifth
Late morning, candles and colour
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The eighty sixth floor
Golden hour, a thousand and fifty feet up
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The tree and the rink
December, seven in the evening
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The finest in the world
Ninety three degrees, everybody in
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Ocean Wonders
Blue, and something circling
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Fifty seven horses
Three quarter time, all afternoon
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The night session
Deuce, under the open roof
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Two in the morning
Members only, no bar
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The Fourth over the East River
Nine forty, everybody quiet
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First due
The bell, then the doors
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The lion comes down Mott Street
Confetti, drums, first day
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Four in the morning
Cold store, before dawn
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A house above the city
Porch light
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The garden listens
A Queens afternoon
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The city at the counter
Saturday at noon
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A sky inside Jamaica
1929, the clouds are on
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Before the curtain
The grand foyer, doors at seven
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Poetry in the yard
East Village, a reading at eight
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Seventeen honey locusts
Dappled noon
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The waterfall room
Lunch hour under the water
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Arrivals in the round
Harbor morning
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The public portrait
Civic daylight
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An immigrant constellation
Painted stars, a window of blue glass
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The clock keeps stories
Village Gothic, a bright morning
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Between the lions
Fifth Avenue, mid afternoon
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Barney Greengrass: Sunday regulars
A table near the window
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Katz’s: The portrait lunch
Houston Street, lunchtime
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Winter stored as a mountain
The city before snow
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The fourth wall belongs to us
Golden hour, last game
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Before the flowers wake
Four in the morning
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Every light is a fare
Five o'clock shift change
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Spin cycle for a sleepless city
Three in the morning
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Tomorrow is wet ink
The city goes to press
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The city exhales
Pressure held
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Forty-seven facets
Midnight appraisal
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The pattern cathedral
North light, the last fitting
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Letters through the void
Every letter in the city at thirty miles an hour
Walk inside ↗The interiors are original speculative spaces and interpretive landmark adaptations, not measured reconstructions.