Three weeks ago the Whitney installed in "the prow" of the Flatiron a life-size cut-out replica of Hopper's Nighthawks-- an icon within an icon, like a devotional painting housed within an altar.
I work less than a block away, so have been over to see the diners bathed in light over that long counter, under the sign for the 5-cent cigars.
For decades, aficionados have searched for what they believe is THE single model for Hopper's diner, typically looking not far away in the Village. No luck yet but the Whitney and the Flatiron have, at least, given us the illusion of the search's end.
A place more real than reality, the epitome of that reality captured on canvas, springing to life on our very streets.
I think I will have a slice of pie with my coffee, thank you.
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