Since it was announced that Bushwick Open Studios will be taking place in October and not on their usual summer date, a couple fledgling fests have tried to fill the void. There’s been the Bushwick Arts Festival, which was a bit of a letdown, and the Bushwick Galleries Association’s Hot Summer Nights of extended hours, which are great but for galleries only. So when we heard tell of a new Bushwick art festival called the Bushwick Open Art Fair, we were skeptical. What would make their “Bears on Bicycles”-themed fair different from the other upstarts? But then the organizers told us they’re “currently looking into the permits required to have live animals at the show.”
Dollar slices, bodega sandwiches, and dumpling deals quickly become dietary stalwarts of any New Yorker on a budget, which is about 99 percent of us. The eternal quest for cheap eats isn’t just about saving cash– it doubles as a way to explore the city. For Josh Olley, Jarod Taber and Marki Becker, founders of Wash & Fold NYC, their favorite dumpling spot is also a creative salon, where they’ve hatched several ideas, including a curated show opening tonight at their local, North Dumpling in Chinatown.
In 1976, a comic artist named John Holmstrom begot Punk magazine as an excuse to stalk his favorite bands from the downtown scene, and look cool in the process. Needless to say, Holmstrom succeeded (beyond what he ever imagined) in permanently etching the East Village into the throbbing heart of the punk movement, and visualizing an R. Crumb-like vision of the scenes running through Max’s Kansas City and CBGB. Soak up the 40th-anniversary exhibition that opened last week at Howl! Happening and Punk’s lasting influence becomes sharply real.
What do DJ and New Museum darling Juliana Huxtable, a former member of industrial outfit Throbbing Gristle, and “drag mother” Flawless Sabrina have in common?
The invitation for Seek: A Self-Fulfilling Prophesy, at Soho’s Recess gallery, was a strange one, steeped in culty vibes. “Visitors are invited to make an appointment to meet with a consultant for their personal reading. Seek is the newest treatment from Institute for New Feeling. It offers individuals a clairvoyant reading generated by the misuse of online search engines.” An invitation for a free “reading?” Check. Sounds a lot like an E-meter reading. Arcane symbols? Check. The Institute’s website is replete with them. And hold up– the Institute? Yup. It’s a self-described “research clinic committed to new ways of feeling, and ways of feeling new” that offers “a rotating menu of wellness treatments, therapies, and retreats.” Right. Needless to say we got down there quicker than you can say “Scientology.”
Everybody dies. But there’s a high probability you won’t get to experience your own funeral, unless of course you’re imagining it during a Bushwick ayahuasca ceremony. But if you want to find out what it’s like to be dead sans pyschedelics, it may be worth forking over $40 for the “fantasy burial workshop” that Carrie Ahern is offering at the Immersive Gallery, a performance art venue in Williamsburg. We spoke with the local dancer and choreographer to find out more about death LARPing.
A scowling woman shoved a plastic bag in my face and gestured toward the mound of grapefruits at a Chinatown grocery like any other. “No thanks,” I smiled, pointing toward the rust red door with chicken scratch white paint that reads: 94 1/2. “Oh,” she said knowingly and smiled. Unlike everyone else clucking around the piles of produce, I wasn’t shopping. I was looking for an art show supposedly behind this dingy door. I tentatively knocked and heard no echo, no indication there was anything but darkness behind there, let alone an exhibition dedicated to work by the street artist RAE, some recent and some that might have otherwise been lost had it not been for a helpful neighbor.
Buzzfeed’s Books Editor will be on hand at Johnny Rotten’s talk April 30 about his latest memoir, Anger is an Energy: My Life Uncensored. We’re hoping the discussion will lend itself to a more accurate “Which Punk Icon Are You?” quiz because I haven’t quite gotten over finding out I’m more Kathleen Hannah than John Lydon. But if you’re simply hoping to see if Mr. Rotten can top his excellent 1994 memoir, Rotten: No Irish, No Blacks, No Dogs, head to the Strand bookstore on April 30.
When I first walked in to Torus Porta, it was difficult to understand exactly what was happening. After opening a door at the bottom of a staircase, all I could see were a number of sweaty, naked bodies covered in stickiness and powder. On the floor a human-centipede-like blob of people thrashed about. I thought maybe this was an illusion or some optical trick brought on by the kaleidoscopic glow of multiple projections, but even after a few minutes of adjusting I found I couldn’t distinguish between men, women, and blow-up dolls.
When I stopped by the Marianne Boesky Gallery on an exceedingly chilly Saturday afternoon, just one day after the opening of John Waters’ Beverly Hills John exhibition– the raunchy filmmaker’s been featured in a number of solo shows across the country since 2000– the place was packed with an awkward mix of tourists and people who seemed to be in the know. One woman snapped a photo of a sculpture depicting a mini-living room, a memorial dedicated to the late Mike Kelley, an artists who continues to be an inspiration to Waters. In a speech given at UCLA, Waters dubbed Kelley a “terrorist and a hero.”
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It was nine months ago that Apostrophe, a Bushwick , was shut down after cops busted its anniversary celebration. Undeterred by a night in jail and a lengthy probation, brothers Ki and Sei Smith are vaulting back into the saddle with a party Friday night and the launch of a Kickstarter campaign designed to revive the Apostrophe universe.
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