Not too long ago, Michael Alan, the multimedia artist of Nude Thrift Shop notoriety, hosted an event at Bowery venue Teatro IATI and “really fucked up,” in his own words. “There was cake everywhere and, like, a bunch of bugs for months after,” he recalled. “I turned every person into a cake, and there was fish and garbage, for like a whole month I collected garbage. There was this infestation. They were really nice– they didn’t kick me out, they were just like, ‘Let’s take a break.’”
The former Pfizer plant at 630 Flushing Avenue on the Bushwick/Bed-Stuy/Williamsburg border is odd and massive, a veritable maze sporting a slew of office culture flyers and a strange sterile smell. No longer a biopharmaceutical plant, the building still mostly looks that way, making it a unique and sometimes strange home for local food companies, office workers, and also, art. Last week, the Re:Art show opened, transforming the fifth floor of the building into a massive art display. Some work was spread out over large hallways or slyly hidden among machinery, but in one mighty room was the vibrant “Fatter IRL” show, showcasing only work by artists who identify as fat.
Update, Oct. 20, 6:13pm: This post has been updated to include comments from the mayor’s office and the Landmarks Preservation Commission.
Elected officials, community activists, labor union members, and preservationists gathered on East 11th Street yesterday to protest a development plan that would demolish five 19th Century tenement buildings to make way for a 300-room hotel. The protest, organized by the Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation and other local groups, attracted several dozen demonstrators who called for Mayor Bill de Blasio to halt the demolition of the buildings.
WEDNESDAY, OCT. 26
Brooklyn Bazaar, 150 Greenpoint Ave., Greenpoint; 7pm; free
The web’s best animators set out to prove that everything is scarier when it’s looped for all eternity at this contest from the folks at GIPHY and Brooklyn’s Animation Block Party. The coolest entries are being screened and measured up by celebrity judges at the Brooklyn Bazaar’s new four-story space — here’s hoping for lots of animated homages to the dancing pumpkin man. Plus, on Saturday BK Bazaar is doing their “Brooklyn Fright Bazaar,” with musical tributes to The Cramps and The Bee Gees, games, karaoke (guess they found a manager), a Halloween drinking game contest (yikes), food and more.
Several hundred Pussy Power protestors gathered on Fifth Avenue outside Trump Tower yesterday evening for a boisterous bashing of the Republican nominee. Donald Trump–or, as one sign-maker would have it, Cheeto Voldemort–wasn’t home at the time, of course, as he was busy in Las Vegas further humiliating himself and his country. But Donald’s absence did little to diminish the anger of the crowd, or the increasing sense that a righteous triumph was nearly at hand.
A 27-year-old woman was recused from a would-be rapist by two karate instructors Tuesday night near McKibbon and White Streets. [CBS NY]
Yesterday afternoon, a male cyclist was struck by an MTA bus near the Williamsburg corner of Broadway and Marcy Avenue. He arrived at Bellevue Hospital in serious condition. [DNA Info]
Finally, the American public got an October surprise that didn’t involve forcible fondling or 400-pound hackers. Monday night, Michael Moore basically dropped some balloons on everyone by announcing that his new movie, Michael Moore in Trumpland, would be premiering Tuesday at IFC Center. Little was known about what promised to be the Beyoncé of agitprop cinema, but that didn’t stop hundreds of people from storming the theater like they had decided where to invade next.
Wednesday October 19, 8 pm at Shea Stadium: $10
The Chicago-based band Oozing Wound are joining local shitar player Justine Frye and whoever’s contributing to his weird-folk drone setup PC Worship at the moment– who, by the way, seem due for some new material soonish, no? Their 2015 record, Basement Hysteria has been in the heavy rotation pile for a while, but then again Frye was busy playing in Glenn Branca’s orchestra not un-recently and I still get that buzzy tinnitus feeling in my ears when I think about the experience. Listen up, though– at this show, we wouldn’t be surprised if you heard some new material.
Tonight marks the third and (mercifully) final presidential debate in Las Vegas, meaning that the more socially minded among us will be looking to share in the democratic process with their fellow citizens and copious amounts of alcohol.
Maybe you’re a diehard Donald Trump supporter drinking to distract yourself from what looks like an imminent landslide defeat, or a Hillary Clinton backer drowning away your sorrows at the indignities your candidate has endured. Perhaps you’re resigned to watching the world burn, but you’ve got some potentially lucrative prop bets riding on whether the candidates shake hands or how many times Trump says “tremendous.”
Whatever your motivation, if you’re looking to knock back a few while you take in the action, we’ve got you covered. Keep Reading »
It’s like I’m on the set of a police series. Is it CSI or SVU? I’ve never been good with acronyms. Two cops escort me while an attendant pushes my squeaking wheelchair through the gloomy hallways of Wyckoff Medical Center’s ER. A drunkard soliloquizes in Polish, a crumpled woman has a coughing fit, and a patient in pajamas stares into space and smiles.
This past Saturday marked the 10th anniversary since CBGB closed its doors for good. Lord knows, the place has been mythologized in that decade: its original awning ended up in the Rock n’ Roll Hall of Fame Museum; there was (briefly) a CBGB music and film festival; a CBGB restaurant popped up at Newark airport and garnered some of the worst Yelp reviews ever; and the Met even recreated the infamous CBGB bathroom. Heck, we even dusted off some photos from the vault last week.