A snowy Village park by a midcentury painter of New York’s streets and squares

I don’t usually post winter scenes during summer months. But there’s heat in this 1930s painting of a snow-covered Jackson Square Park—a block-long triangle of green space in Greenwich Village at the awkward juncture of Greenwich and Eighth Avenues and Horatio Street.

Alfred Mira is the painter, and the heat comes from him, I think. Growing up in Greenwich Village in an Italian immigrant family, Mira studied at the Art Students League and National Academy of Design. But according to a biography from Christie’s, Mira found his artistic footing during a trip to Europe when he was a young man.

“Mira was particularly fascinated with the city streets and their frenetic energy,” the site states. “After traveling throughout Europe in 1928, Mira realized that the bustling avenues of New York afforded him the profound inspiration he was attempting to find in Europe. Returning to New York, Mira devoted himself to painting its streets, avenues and squares.”

If this really is Jackson Square in the 1930s, things seem a little askew. A 1920s apartment house should be on the right side of the painting between Greenwich and Horatio; Jackson Square itself seems way out of proportion. And shouldn’t there be cars on these roads?

But no matter. It’s a romantic depiction of a piece of Greenwich Village with passion and energy, from the rich colors of the tenements to the faceless people in motion to the neon store signs glowing like embers.

For more Alfred Mira paintings, click this link.

An incredible map of 1930s Greenwich Village

Greenwich Village Stories is a lovely new book from the folks at the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation.

It’s filled with reminiscences from dozens of former and current residents—from artists to activists to politicians—who give their take on the beauty and spirit of the neighborhood.

It’s an evocative read that also captures how much the Village has changed over the years. Driving that point home is a wonderful map of Greenwich Village circa 1934 by puppeteer and illustrator Tony Sarg that has been reproduced in the book.

While the street grid is the same, the landmarks Sarg depicts with such affection don’t always exist anymore. Jefferson Market prison, the Washington Square Bookshop, the Village Barn, Luchow’s, and Wanamaker’s department store are all long gone.

Various hotels marked on the map are now apartment houses: the Albert, the Brevoort, the Lafayette. New York University, interestingly, barely gets a mention—the main campus in the 1930s was in the Bronx.

Where in the city is this row of brick buildings?

When Washington Square North resident Edward Hopper finished this strangely haunting painting of simple low-rise buildings in 1930, it was recorded in his ledger as “Seventh Avenue Shops.”

But could this really be on Seventh Avenue? Not according to a 2007 report from the Greenwich Village Historical Society, which explains that the distinctive cornices, barber shop pole, fire hydrant, and morning shadows place the inspiration not on Seventh Avenue but at 231-235 Bleecker Street, just west of Carmine Street.

Adding to the mystery is that Hopper later changed the name of the painting to “Early Sunday Morning,” which it’s still known by today.

[Photo comparison published in New York magazine, courtesy of the Whitney Museum of Art, John Carbonella]

Many of Hopper’s other works—deceptively simple, solitary, often people-free city corners and streets—have been traced to specific locations that still stand.

Maybe Hopper did draw his inspiration from this slice of Bleecker Street, or perhaps it’s a composite of details from several buildings.

Jeremiah at Vanishing New York has an intriguing take on the “Early Sunday Morning,” as well as a fascinating look at where Hopper’s “Nighthawks” might have been.