(no subject)
This past Saturday I decided to spend a bit of quality time exploring my home of New York City. I had already decided that my time spent at home was too concentrated on Brooklyn and I thought to myself that venturing into some of my old haunts might be good for me. In the city that never sleeps, nothing ever stays the same either and while core things might not shift around, the facade of the area can change drastically in the matter of days let alone months. I prepared myself as I decided to return to my former home of the Lower East Side and Bowery. As I rode the train into my old neighborhood, I reflected on how I remembered it and the culture of New York City in general.
One thing is for certain. Everyone is about the dollar, dollar bill y'all and with the gentrification of Williamsburg being such a high success, contractors and real estate agents are looking to do the same with other downtrodden spots like the Bowery. What is funny about that neighborhood is that it wasn't always known for Bowery bums and punk rock ethics. Originally the Bowery was a very rich area that was spotted with mansions and other highly successful businesses that prospered throughout the 18th century but by the 19th century with more immigration and further competition by ethnic gangs (the Bowery was occupied by one of NYC's first gangs, The Bowery Boys) and more prosperous locales, the Bowery soon became known to be the slums.
Littered by poverty, alcoholism, gangs, mental illness and homelessness, it wasn't long before the area was known as New York City's "Skid Row." This remained true though the 50's and 60's but as the 70's approached, artists and kids looking to make it in NYC with no money and a dream started to settle into the depressed area. Most notably it was sparked by the success of the now defunct CBGB's. It was there that the community was given new life with the sounds of the Talking Heads, Blondie and the Ramones. Admitting to living in the Bowery had always meant acknowledging you were a derelict but with the rise of Punk Rock, that wasn't such a bad thing. Most of those people were firestarters and it wasn't long before the area saw a distinct rise in economic wealth.
I had a purpose for returning to the area that was not entirely for sightseeing. Saturday marked the opening of The New Museum at 235 Bowery. I'd had heard the rumors while it was being built that it resembled children playing with building blocks but I was not prepared for the sight that was before me when I walked up on the building. There it was, a gigantic pile of pristine white building blocks, teetering amongst the crumbling facades of it's neighboring buildings. Either intentionally or unintentionally there was a glaring HELL YES sign in the colors of the rainbow sprawling along the crisp whiteness of the brick. Once I was closer to the building I noticed that the entire face was covered by a grey mesh of metal, like a sculpture unfinished, but the boxes only gave off the feeling of a prison.
Waiting in line my mind raced with thoughts. What was the significance of the building shape, why was is covered in mesh and could a positive 70'seqse HELL YES sign in rainbow signify something more than just exuberance for life? I was agitated already and I had not even entered the premise. Something inside of me felt snubbed. It felt like the architects took one look around and designed a building that spoke to the eyeballing masses that were just waiting for the prime time to flip that building. Was this a reflection of the neighborhood to them? That the lot of the community should be in their ivory tower, behind mesh like a jail cell? Was the ridiculous rainbow sign a Batman signal to the homosexuals saying, come fix up our neighborhood so we can turn a profit? I decided that I was being far to cynical even for me and went inside to enjoy the art that I had come for.
This is where I would normally go into a big dissertation about the exhibitions I saw but the very first one I witnessed was by about 30 artists called, Unmonumental: The Object in the 21st Century. Historically interesting, artistically boring. It belonged more in the Smithsonian than a museum of art. First, turning everyday objects and trash into art died a good decade, if not 2 ago. Secondly, I felt dejected by the snobbery of the museum, patrons and art. Here is my broken umbrella in a trash can. I received 20 grand for that to sit here like a pile of crap and you, sucker Bowery resident paid to see it. My gut wrenched, my heart throbbed and my mind raced as I grabbed a glass of sparkling wine and cheese cracker.
While I stood with a champagne flute looking at a piece of art that was absolutely nothing to me than my bedroom floor on a typical morning, I was tapped on the shoulder by a friend from ages ago. Once we'd locked eyes he greeted me with his best cockney Johnny Rotten accent and said, "Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?"
One thing is for certain. Everyone is about the dollar, dollar bill y'all and with the gentrification of Williamsburg being such a high success, contractors and real estate agents are looking to do the same with other downtrodden spots like the Bowery. What is funny about that neighborhood is that it wasn't always known for Bowery bums and punk rock ethics. Originally the Bowery was a very rich area that was spotted with mansions and other highly successful businesses that prospered throughout the 18th century but by the 19th century with more immigration and further competition by ethnic gangs (the Bowery was occupied by one of NYC's first gangs, The Bowery Boys) and more prosperous locales, the Bowery soon became known to be the slums.
Littered by poverty, alcoholism, gangs, mental illness and homelessness, it wasn't long before the area was known as New York City's "Skid Row." This remained true though the 50's and 60's but as the 70's approached, artists and kids looking to make it in NYC with no money and a dream started to settle into the depressed area. Most notably it was sparked by the success of the now defunct CBGB's. It was there that the community was given new life with the sounds of the Talking Heads, Blondie and the Ramones. Admitting to living in the Bowery had always meant acknowledging you were a derelict but with the rise of Punk Rock, that wasn't such a bad thing. Most of those people were firestarters and it wasn't long before the area saw a distinct rise in economic wealth.
I had a purpose for returning to the area that was not entirely for sightseeing. Saturday marked the opening of The New Museum at 235 Bowery. I'd had heard the rumors while it was being built that it resembled children playing with building blocks but I was not prepared for the sight that was before me when I walked up on the building. There it was, a gigantic pile of pristine white building blocks, teetering amongst the crumbling facades of it's neighboring buildings. Either intentionally or unintentionally there was a glaring HELL YES sign in the colors of the rainbow sprawling along the crisp whiteness of the brick. Once I was closer to the building I noticed that the entire face was covered by a grey mesh of metal, like a sculpture unfinished, but the boxes only gave off the feeling of a prison.
Waiting in line my mind raced with thoughts. What was the significance of the building shape, why was is covered in mesh and could a positive 70'seqse HELL YES sign in rainbow signify something more than just exuberance for life? I was agitated already and I had not even entered the premise. Something inside of me felt snubbed. It felt like the architects took one look around and designed a building that spoke to the eyeballing masses that were just waiting for the prime time to flip that building. Was this a reflection of the neighborhood to them? That the lot of the community should be in their ivory tower, behind mesh like a jail cell? Was the ridiculous rainbow sign a Batman signal to the homosexuals saying, come fix up our neighborhood so we can turn a profit? I decided that I was being far to cynical even for me and went inside to enjoy the art that I had come for.
This is where I would normally go into a big dissertation about the exhibitions I saw but the very first one I witnessed was by about 30 artists called, Unmonumental: The Object in the 21st Century. Historically interesting, artistically boring. It belonged more in the Smithsonian than a museum of art. First, turning everyday objects and trash into art died a good decade, if not 2 ago. Secondly, I felt dejected by the snobbery of the museum, patrons and art. Here is my broken umbrella in a trash can. I received 20 grand for that to sit here like a pile of crap and you, sucker Bowery resident paid to see it. My gut wrenched, my heart throbbed and my mind raced as I grabbed a glass of sparkling wine and cheese cracker.
While I stood with a champagne flute looking at a piece of art that was absolutely nothing to me than my bedroom floor on a typical morning, I was tapped on the shoulder by a friend from ages ago. Once we'd locked eyes he greeted me with his best cockney Johnny Rotten accent and said, "Ever get the feeling you've been cheated?"