In 1963, the Italian-born sculptor Costantino Nivola filled a playground that covers an entire city block with avant-garde abstractions. In the middle of an Upper Manhattan housing project, there are cuboid cutouts sculpted in cement, a fountain made with two diamond-shaped boulders, concrete play horses, and a sand-casted relief carved high into a wall. In the northeast corner, a matriarchal figure known as “The Nanny” rises from the ground. The artist’s sculptures were built in an era when urban development incorporated art in its effort to uplift communities and express democratic ideals. “A work designed for a public space is less a work of art than a civic act,” Nivola once said. “It concerns the ways in which we live together, and in which we influence each other.”

Long afternoon naps rarely happen here, sadly. But I never stop fantasizing.

It’s photographer Jay Maisel’s studio building on the Bowery. The fact that he hasn’t sold out to the manic gentrification of everything in New York is even cooler. Makes me happy that the whole place is covered in piss stains and graffiti when everything around it is all polished and shiny and expensive. It’s like a giant middle finger raised to those disgusting, bloodthirsty, city-raping real-estate developers. Awesome.

The oldest still-operating restaurant in New York City, still in the family of the original founders. At Christmastime, it's decorated to the nines. Go with a big group: portions are large and the wine flows liberally. Look for the little buttons on the walls: in the old days, the mafia would hang out in the back room, and if diners saw the cops come in, they'd press the buttons so the mafia guys could run out the back.

Why not