Good morning, dear Bushwick lady!  I would like to send you a warm welcome and some love from our regular radio cooking session. It is June 1959 in Brooklyn, your husband is at work, and your kid presumably stopped shrieking for a sweet moment.  Lean comfortably back in your chair, I hope your feet are resting on a […]

“Enough of the hypothetical duck talk,” I said, and Eric Trosko raised his eye-brows. It was one of the Bushwick gallery nights, and we were slowly melting our intellectual gallery experience immediately preceding this moment, in one of the number of kinds of the Six Point beer. Eric is probably the tallest painter in Bushwick, […]

This week’s Tuesday Person is abstract painter, Julie Torres.

is an art exhibition compiled for Bushwick Open Studios ’11

There is one connecting feel nowadays among people who were involved in

On Sunday night, my mind and the minds of my peers in Paper Swan Loft are peaceful. The girl in red plaid blanket over her shoulders on the couch next to me is hugging her knees. Someone is offering freshly baked tiny pizza cakes from a cardboard box. The famous swan made of paper is […]

Bushwick is like a rough little alien animal that looks ugly on the first sight. Many people wrinkle their foreheads and noses in disagreement, when looking at it as if it smelled bad. But if you look closer, your heart has to melt, because this little alien animal has the friendliest soul. One of the […]

In my vintage 60’s dress obtained in Williamsburg a couple of days ago, with the utmost care, a love for clothing, and the determination to face any fancy society, I am standing at the entrance of a SoHo loft where Sarah Small is throwing a benefit for her upcoming Tableau Vivant. I met Sarah a […]

Black coffee in a plastic cup that Andrew Birk served me in his studio at Johnson Avenue reached the perfect temperature to start being sipped and I just reached a peace agreement with my perfectionist self that this week’s Tuesday Person, Andrew Birk, will be photographed with an iPhone, instead of my regular bulky Canon […]

The sound of the breaks against the rubber tires of my bike feels so good. Alas! It’s the first beautiful day in Bushwick in about million years. I just stopped in front of Allison Somers‘  house at Wilson Avenue. Allison is sitting on the stairs holding the leash of her long-haired dog Lucy. She’s pleasurably […]

It is any Friday night in Bushwick. The setting is simple. There are paintings hanging on the walls and about 3 times as many people as you could possibly imagine fitting into this gallery. The beer is still warm, and the gin tonic in my hand has been clearly been prepared by someone who strongly […]

I have always felt this mixture of sorrow and fascination with the birds captured in large halls after they accidentally flew in. There is one in Staten Island Ferry Hall flying in circles above my head in confusion as I’m sipping weak coffee and walking in circles myself, because I’m unable to sit still. Soon […]

Ari has been rummaging through the insides of his old-fashioned blue Garelli moped for quite a while now, only to pull out something which, if his moped was a human would probably be a gut. Eww. “Here’s the carburetor,” Ari says, smiling. I’m making my very fake obviously, I knew that face at him, and […]

The walk through industrial Bushwick seems neverending until I finally reach 513 Johnson Avenue, to meet Ryan Ford…and himself. That’s a joke I’ve been making in my head ever since I saw one of Ryan’s paintings, called Me Vs. Myself. Ryan is portrayed in blue boxer shorts in a ready-to-fight posture next to a huge flesh […]

This is a story about a girl who lives on the highest floor of a building that used to be a spaghetti factory. This girl gently closes her eyes when the shadows are changing into lights on her face as a J train greets Brooklyn on the Williamsburg Bridge. This girl loves how the costumes […]

They say you shouldn’t read tarot for yourself. It gets confusing and your own hopes and desires get in the way. Some even say you can go mad if you do it. Katelan Foisy–descendant of gypsies, psychic, artist, writer and drug-prevention activist–never reads for herself, either. It gets all blurry, she says. So I did […]

We’re hanging out in Little Skips. Subconsciously, my teeth are unrolling the edge of the plastic cup, while my eyes are stuck to Richard, who is sitting across the table, casually sipping his coffee while he describes how tiring life can get–if you have to attend 9 fashion shows in one day during Fashion Week. […]

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One-eyed big fuzzy Matt has been proudly holding the title of showroom cat for some time now. And as a true artsy cat, he’s indifferent to the excessive display of affection by showroom visitors. He strolls by some strange new element in his kingdom full of art and peculiar artifacts–you–and with a genial nod of […]

I feel the look of a large yellow red head from a drawing of James Marshall on my shoulders and on my chest. It’s heavy. My throat is dry and swollen. It somehow gets harder to breathe freely when standing in front of the drawing. I feel the pain, disappointment, temporariness, desolation and surrender. She’s […]

“Wait… I’ll show you…. this photo….”, Rafael Fuchs is going through a slightly disorganized pile of framed photographs leaning on the wall in his Bushwick studio. You can end up looking for Rafael’s studio just like a grandma looks for her glasses that are sitting on her nose. The building on Bogart Street clearly and […]

I mean… This is pretty simple