In “NY See,” East Village-based artist Grant Shaffer illustrates his daily observations of New York life, with witty (and relatable) captions. Think: “someone walking on E. 14th St., obscured by a plant,” “footprint on 6 train window,” or “go-go boy tipped with an MTA card.”
Fun fact: When The Satanic Temple made its infamous seven-foot-tall bronze statue of Baphomet for the grounds of the Oklahoma State Capitol, they modeled its abs on Iggy Pop’s.
Underneath the elevated train track on the JMZ line, a dance cave with soft green, pink and purple lighting glows. Inside, the dance floor is jam packed, hitting dangerously hot temperatures as the crowd energetically sways to Arabic pop, Armenian dance music and electronic dance mixes. LayLit, one of the most eclectic and popular nights at Bushwick’s Mood Ring, is more than just hype.
Williamsburg’s “BEST NO BULLSHIT, NO TOURISTS, ALL AROUND GREAT LOCAL BAR” is closing. The Abbey, a neighborhood fixture for over two decades, will shutter this Thursday. This follows news that two other local longtimers, Enid’s and Rosemary’s Greenpoint Tavern, are also closing.
The owner of the building at 536 Driggs plans to fully renovate it, according to a permit application that was approved last week.
Almost immediately, The Poet and the Professor is a very obvious change from the short films most people are used to. It is, as director and star Ariel Kavoussi calls it, a feminist film.
It’s almost women’s history month and in New York that means it’s time for the NYC Feminist Zinefest (FZF). The self-described “jumble of magic, creativity, witchy energy, and zines zines zines” will take place March 31 at Barnard College, but its seventh annual season kicks off tonight with an open mic on the Lower East Side.
Food For Thought
Opening Thursday, February 28 at Louis K. Meisel Gallery, 6 pm to 8 pm. On view through March 30.
It’s a shame you can’t consume paintings with more than just your eyes, as the works on view at Food For Thought, opening Thursday at Soho gallery Louis K. Meisel, certainly look good enough to eat. That’s not a metaphor: they’re artistic renderings of food, from sugary, cellophane-wrapped confections to simple still lives of walnuts or onions. The edible item isn’t always front and center in this stuffed show—some pieces are intricate retro renderings of the signs outside of diners, bars, or burger joints; others are painted nudes where the subject just happens to be holding an apple. Either way, the food is there. Sometimes you have to look for it, sometimes it’s so prominent you’ll start feeling peckish. Keep Reading »
Seizing on the opportunity that comes with a massive advantage in both houses of the state legislature, Democratic lawmakers are making a renewed push for a tax on pied-à-terres, non-primary residences favored by the super-rich who’d rather pop in to a penthouse for a weekend visit than crash on their friend’s couch. Yesterday afternoon, the bill’s Albany sponsors and city politicians linked up to urge support on both the city and state level.
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Many artists have to work odd jobs to pay the bills, but comedian Nicky Sunshine had a hustle that set her apart from most. After getting tired of and/or fired from unsatisfying gigs and winning a comedy competition that paid only in beer, Sunshine answered an ad in the back of the Village Voice and found herself at a happy ending massage parlor. Her one-woman show Confessions of a Massage Parlor Madam, which ran at the East Village’s historic Wow Café Theater this past weekend, is a chronicle of how she got there and what happened next. Keep Reading »
Juggalos, the face-painted, unashamedly low-brow fans of rap-rock band Insane Clown Posse, have been an object of morbid curiosity for over two decades. Officially listed as a “gang” by the FBI since 2011, the legion will once again convene for their annual Gathering of the Juggalos on July 31 in Springville, Indiana. If you can’t wait till then or just don’t want to get drenched in Faygo (if you went to their Brooklyn show in 2017, you know what I’m talking about), you may want to head to HERE Arts Center to catch a new play, American Juggalo.
Bushwick finally has its own murder-mystery novel—and it’s a good one, too! Journalist Andrea Bartz, who established herself as a scholar of hipsterdom as co-author of mock-guidebook Stuff Hipsters Hate, has deftly placed a group of plaid-shirt-wearing characters in a whodunit set at the intersection of the media and art worlds. Set between 2008-2009 and the present day, her novel The Lost Night follows literary essayist turned head fact-checker Lindsay Bach as she tries to piece together what happened the night her impossibly beautiful and charismatic former best friend Edie was found dead by apparent suicide; the “Calhoun Lofts,” a dump-meets-arts-haven in Bushwick, is its sandbox-like backdrop.
Small and dimly lit, the basement of Williamsburg’s Metropolitan Bar stores beer and spirits, as it has for much of the last century. Gennaro Milo, an Italian-American in Virginia whose family owned the building for most of the 1900s, said that he remembers his great-grandfather keeping large casks of wine down there from the Prohibition era.