Occasionally I’ll look at the Manhattan skyline and wonder what it was like in 1931 when people around the world were saying, “Holy shit, did you hear what they just built in New York?” Just get up there and trip out about humanity. And be sure to keep an eye out for the unmarked locked door guarding a set of stairs leading to a hidden terrace that was originally designed as a fucking docking station for zeppelins.
Address
The Empire State Building Observation Deck, 350 5th Avenue #300, New York, United States
Current city: New York
Michael was born and raised in Seattle, and has lived in New York since 2009. He’s done graphic and interaction design for Pentagram and Local Projects, and is currently a designer at the Google Creative Lab.
 

More Places in New York 452

The crown jewel of the Queens Museum is a nearly 10,000-square-foot architectural model of the city originally built for the 1964 World's Fair.
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Every seat is a good seat in this small, intimate theater dedicated to dance. Nearly every dance company has filtered through the theater and with a season that lasts about 45 weeks, there's always a performance to see and tickets are very reasonably priced. I prefer a performance at The Joyce then at Lincoln Center any day.
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Printed Matter—organizer of the NY and LA Art Book Fairs—is a non-profit supporting the work of artists and independent publishers through the circulation of their books. At their store in Chelsea, you can shop an insanely diverse selection of artists’ books, zines, posters, and more. They’re also always hosting awesome in-store exhibitions and events, from book launches and talks to lectures and performances.
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If I lived closer to the West Village I’d go over to Jack’s every morning for a coffee and occasionally having what is probably the best chocolate chip cookie in New York (and it’s just a dollar!). Even though it’s rarely in my way I try to go here now and then, maybe in combination with a stroll down the beautiful Bleeker Street or to read a book sitting in their window.
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I discovered the Frick my first week in New York, during a heat wave in August. The galleries were surprisingly empty, with only the occasional visitor strolling through the rooms, gently creaking the floorboards. I stood for a while in front of the Bronzino, a portrait of a boy standing against a background of green drapery, and then sat in the courtyard for a long, cool hour.
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