I first met Wendy Slaughter at a community art class. She was hunched over a canvas meticulously gluing large pills onto a painting of the ocean and cutting the fingers off of blue hospital gloves to be pasted on next. Before I had time to ask about it, she received a call—one that I have come to recognize from the disgruntled way she answers the phone—saying that her access-a-ride was there early. It was a while before I saw Wendy again. Her health is a constant battle and can keep her away for weeks at a time. She always comes back to class, however, her sketchbook and a collection of found objects in tow.
Wendy grew up along the border of Bushwick and Williamsburg and speaks with the authority of a person who knows a thing or two about change. She describes Brooklyn, specifically her stomping grounds, with a candor that is informed by love, weary from experience and marked by appreciation above all else. With very little prompting she will share how things were: Graham Avenue was not the “fashion plate” it is now, it was the place to shop for appliances. Broadway was bustling with mom and pop stores, before many of them left.
On a recent Monday, we were chatting at the McCarren Play Center, the location of the art classes that we both take. I asked about the change and how it makes her feel. “I like Bushwick, I like Williamsburg,” she said thoughtfully, “but I’m seeing so much change. I’m learning more about my neighborhood than what I ever knew. A few years ago it wasn’t so artsy. A few years ago you did not see all these murals popping up, all these little cafes. It’s interesting. Some things I like. I like the murals. When it was open studio day, I actually did go to some of the studios. When I went onto some of the back streets, I didn’t realize there were any back streets in the first place and how colorfully decorated some of them are.” But other things, like the empty lots on Broadway, “are hard to look at,” she said with marked resignation.
