After opening in 2014, Gansevoort Market was unceremoniously booted earlier this year so that Keith McNally could take over the food hall’s space for a revival of his Meatpacking District longtimer Pastis, which itself had become homeless due to development. If you’re keeping score in this game of musical chairs, Gansevoort Market has quietly reopened on 14th Street and 9th Avenue with a host of new vendors in addition to some returning favorites.
Let’s face it, Cecil Taylor’s music isn’t what you put on the hifi to unwind after a long day at work— google the pianist and composer and you’ll find words like frenzied, cacophonous, and “acquired taste” used to describe his particular brand of free jazz, a genre he pioneered – along with Ornette Coleman—during late-’50s performances at the legendary Five Spot Café on the Bowery.
A new exhibition at La MaMa brings together the various threads of New York City nightlife, art, and HIV/AIDS activism. The close ties were always there but curators, gallerists, and artists seem to be reassessing spaces that are thought to be reserved for escapism and debauchery. Osman Can Yerebakan and Emily Colucci (who has contributed to this blog in the past) are the curatorial team behind Party Out of Bounds: Nightlife as Activism Since 1980. The show has been in the works for two years, so Colucci and her curatorial partner have been able to compile an incredible array of archival materials, photographs, and work by artists who are long gone and contemporary artists and activists who are ensuring the party rages on.
The Standard, High Line — last seen getting a nifty rooftop paint job from Romon “Rostarr” Kimin — has teamed up with another one of our favorite artists, José Parlá.
Rostarr, the artist who did a mural for our pop-up newsroom a little over a year ago, has taken things to a whole new level — the rooftop level of The Standard, High Line, to be exact. On Friday, friends of Romon Kimin gathered in the hotel’s gift shop to raise their champagne glasses at his epic new work covering the ground of Le Bain, the hotel’s 18th-floor lounge.
The preview of the Whitney Biennial was great and all. But did those uptown swells lay out endless garbage cans filled with free PBR at THEIR opening? Did they toss out free t-shirts to a rowdy, adoring crowd? Was there Ministry on the decks and naked people on the floor? And were there almost 600 different artists with works hung literally floor to ceiling, every square foot filled, every single one of them created by a woman?