Author: Daniel Castro

The cause I decided to support was the pause of expansion of AI throughout public education in NYC. I chose this topic since I work with students from K-5 in an afterschool program, and I frequently have to help them with their homework. Sometimes they try to have chatbots solve their problems by taking photos of the questions and copying the answers – which I can only assume their teachers would count as academically dishonest – but sometimes they use AI because their teachers explicitly permit and even support its use for certain assignments, even creative ones. Seeing this in the afterschool program bothered me a lot because I believed that the reliance on AI at such a young age would create a dependent relationship in which my students would struggle to get work done without the use of AI.

In creating my collage, I wanted to present AI as a threat to young students. To do this, I only used two marker colors when highlighting text: orange to represent caution, and black to represent despair. I gathered letters from multiple sources to spell “BOOKS” in the middle of the collage as while I don’t quite believe books are a panacea that can remedy the impact of AI on student lives, I believe that reading books promote individual thought and creativity and can therefore reverse some of the adverse effects of overreliance on AI. I tried to include multiple images of students to present the population that is being threatened by AI, and I included the NYCDOE’s Tweed Courthouse to display the governing body that has control over the limits of AI in public schools. I also included multiple images representing AI, such as flowers constructed out of binary code, replacing the flowers that a child might normally draw given their own creative liberty. Had I had more time and resources, I would have tried to include images that include similar messages (threats from AI, students studying) to try to fill some of the blank space.

I found this mural art near Montefiore Medical Center in the Bronx while I was visiting my former high school nearby. The mural immediately stood out to me given that its vast display of colors contrasted the brick walls of the hospital. Given the various plants and animals found in the mural, I figured it was a type of ecological piece, though I couldn’t discern the meaning on my own. While I at first thought it might represent a sort of “Save the Earth” campaign, I found it difficult to reconcile that idea with the presence of the other planets of the solar system as well.

The mural credited Paul Deo as the artist, so I found his website later. Deo is a primarily NYC-based artist who is especially known for his works in Harlem: his work “Planet Harlem” was highlighted in 2019 by New York Magazine. I saw on his website that his work is often psychedelic, which I thought did explain some of the imagery that I found confusing in his mural. I hadn’t experienced much psychedelic art prior to viewing this mural, so I briefly researched the process upon arriving back home. I also tried finding this specific art piece on Deo’s website, but I was ultimately unsuccessful.

I believe public art is important for a few reasons. Primarily, I believe that public art pieces do bolster community safety. It isn’t a perfect method, but it does have limited effects such as promoting a positive mentality among viewers. Public art can also breed intellectual discussion among the community rather easily given its public status, and while I struggle to find the meaning of this specific mural, many murals can promote discussions on political, social, or environmental topics.

It’s already noon by the time I get up. Ma doesn’t bother waking me for church anymore, but I don’t mind. I’d rather hang with my friends than stay in church till dusk. I quickly brush my teeth and have a bowl of wheaties with milk before heading out. Pa is already gone too, though I don’t have a clue where he could be.

It takes two hours to get from San Juan Hill to Manhattan Bridge, where my friends play. There are plenty of lines outside the churches I pass of families waiting for food. My family is lucky. We moved into a Phipps house when I was born, and we didn’t have to leave when the depression hit. A lot of my friends weren’t so lucky. They suffocate in Harlem, living in fear of eviction, or live in tents in parks. We head to Manhattan Bridge to get away from it all for a bit, even if it takes a while to get there.

By the time I meet my friends, my feet feel sore, but I’m still energetic enough to play. We’d play baseball but none of us have a bat, so we use a broom handle and play stickball instead. I’ve always wanted to use a bat, but my parents don’t want to get me one just for me to lose it. I wanna make it into a league, but the Negro Leagues in New York disbanded once the depression hit. It’d be easy if I could just play for the Brooklyn Dodgers, but my Pa says the world will go to war again before colored folk get back into the major league. Still, I gotta be good enough in case the Negro League hits New York again. So I ready my stick and do my best to drive the ball into the East River.

 

“Stickballers” by Kadir Nelson

I had some difficulty relating to Austen or her community through her private work. On one hand, I can completely understand messing around with one’s friends and loved ones in private. On the other hand, every photo reminds me that Austen was someone who was relatively well off compared to a large portion of other city dwellers. While I’m glad that her wealth is fundamentally what allows us to view who she was as a person, her work doesn’t move me in the way that Jacob Riis’ How the Other Half Lives does. The photos are no doubt intimate, but the multitude of costumes and photos of large landscapes almost works against that. Regrettably, the content of the photos strike me more so as privileged than anything else. 

Still, it’s important to take into context the time period in which these photos were taken. The photos of Austen’s Larky Life are relevant not just because of what is captured, but also because of when they were captured. It would be erroneous to say that the struggle of the LGBTQ+ community to be accepted into larger society only began in the mid-20th century. Rather, the photos of Austen’s Larky Life display a haven in which she and a group of likeminded individuals were free to express themselves how they liked. Additionally, it’s not as though her private works were necessarily meant to be shared with the public at the time that they were created. Perhaps they were simply meant to preserve memories, or maybe they were statements about her own freedom. Her public works on the quarantine islands and of everyday city life don’t suggest any degree of privilege, rather, they are the works of a photographer capturing moments to communicate a message to the larger society.

On June 28th, 2026, I visited the Museum of the City of New York (MCNY) for my first time. When given the options of which Museum to visit, I was immediately interested in the MCNY because I had never heard of it before. After researching it a bit, I decided to visit as the museum’s aim seemed to be to educate visitors about the history of the city and how it shaped the city’s character, and learning more about NYC was part of why I wanted to join Macaulay in the first place. I generally enjoy museums that focus more on history than art, so the MCNY seemed like a better fit for me than some of the other museums available. I didn’t do much in the way of preparation beyond finalizing my decision to go to MCNY and planning how to get there, but I reminded myself before going to keep an eye out for any information on NYC’s Seneca Village.

Of the exhibits available, I visited five, though I still briefly visited the other three. I spent three hours in the museum, an hour and fifteen minutes of which I spent in the first exhibit I visited, “The Occupied City”. The exhibit was composed of six “mini-exhibits” chronicling different stages of the occupation of New York City by British forces during the American Revolution. The exhibit was no doubt informative and engaging, and I enjoyed learning about various topics from Lenape activity during the Revolutionary War to loyalist migration to NYC after Britain captured it. As a critical museum visitor however, I couldn’t help but notice the use of background colors throughout the exhibit. The first chronological two “mini-exhibits” had varied muted-but-welcoming-colored backgrounds. This drew an immediate contrast to the almost hostile red found in the third “mini-exhibit” displaying the various attacks of the British forces on the city. The fourth “mini-exhibit” contained information regarding Britain’s occupation of the city coupled with a charcoal grey background, almost to suggest NYC was in its dark ages while simultaneously providing details on the British effort to sustain the city’s loyalist inhabitants. This once again contrasted its succeeding “mini-exhibit”, a bright blue room called “City of Hope” detailing… American efforts to return escaped slaves to slavery and British efforts to subvert that? I would personally consider that a darker reflection of NYC than the previous “mini-exhibit”, so the use of background colors was perplexing if nothing else.

I visited the exhibit “Activist New York”, detailing various social movements in the city. I was a bit disappointed that the exhibit was organized by each movement rather than chronologically as the accompanying artwork “Raise Your Voice” displayed civil rights activists Yuri Kochiyama and Malcolm X together, so I was hoping I would be able to read more about the intersection of their work. Still, I agree that it ultimately made more sense to display each movement independently to avoid visitors feeling overwhelmed by the 13 different movements mentioned. After this, I visited the “Timescape” exhibit, a thirty minute video about the history of the city going back to the Lenape and New Amsterdam. While the video was certainly interesting, I once again could not help but notice that in the section regarding modern times, the only political figure mentioned by name was Mayor Michael Bloomberg for his efforts in reforming urban infrastructure. While his efforts were certainly impressive, I thought it strange that they named him specifically without detailing any other mayor, not even mentioning Rudy Giuliani during the section on 9/11. I later looked into the corporate foundations supporting the museum, and sure enough, Bloomberg Philanthropies was on the list. I knew from Lindauer’s article that sponsors can certainly impact what was displayed in a museum, but this was the first time I was personally conscious of it while in a museum.

Overall, despite all the critiques I’ve made, I still had a fun time in the museum and would gladly visit again. As for my original subgoal of finding information on Seneca Village, however, I only found a small paragraph in a section of the museum on urban reform and a few various assorted items (button, ceramic fragment, etc) excavated from the remains of the village. To me, the existence and destruction of Seneca Village is an extremely significant event in the history of the city, so I thought it strange that so little information was provided. I hope that perhaps I’ll find more information on the village in a different museum.

(I sincerely apologize for going drastically over the word limit in this post. I’ll try to keep the others shorter!)