spectacle – brooklyn spaces

12-turn-13

oriana on 26 Mar ’14

space type: parties, events | neighborhood: clinton hill | active since: 1998 | links: website, facebook

Art party space 12-turn-13 sits in a huge industrial building dating back to the 1930s, one of only two remaining structures from the MH Renken Dairy complex (preservationists are working to designate the other as a historic landmark). For the last sixteen years—an incredible lifespan in today’s deliriously shifting Brooklyn underground—this beautiful loft has hosted all manner of DJs, gallery shows, and complex performance events, from Wolf + Lamb and Mister Saturday Night dance parties to exotic honey tastings and elaborately themed fêtes.

all photos courtesy of theARTcorps

Read on for plenty of reminiscences and fantastic stories from owner Steve R. about sixteen years of underground Brooklyn brilliance.
[n.b.: this interview took place in September 2013]

brooklyn spaces: This space is just gorgeous. What was it like when you got it?
Steve: Oh, it was an absolute sty. There were these huge hinged industrial windows that weighed about fifty pounds, they had bars on the outside and the inside. There were strips of fluorescent lights hanging from the dropped ceilings, which were curling at the edges from water damage. There were all sorts of wire conduits everywhere, and there was a concrete bunker in the corner that functioned as a bathroom—it consisted of a toilet, about enough space for a toilet paper roll, and on the outside, literally hanging off its pipe, a sink that didn’t work. That was it.

brooklyn spaces: So it was love at first sight?
Steve: Well, I’d looked at about sixty different places, from Sunset Park to Greenpoint—leaving out Williamsburg, because I knew I didn’t want to go there.
brooklyn spaces: Even in 1998 you didn’t want to go to Williamsburg?
Steve: Well, I was living in the East Village at the time, and an Urban Outfitters had just moved in across the street from me. I knew what was going to happen in Williamsburg, and I just couldn’t do that again. Anyway, I had a car at the time, so I drove here, and when I walked in, this place was so disgusting, but I could see the beams, the wood floors, the perfect lighting, I knew it had the bones. So I immediately said, “Yes, I’ll take it!” And then I drove back to the East Village and thought, “Oh god, is there a subway? Is there any food?” I had no idea. So I had to come back and walk the neighborhood. Luckily there was a post office, a supermarket, a few amenities. So yes, love at first sight, and then a lot of work. We ripped out the drop ceiling and exposed all these beams—that took about nine months on a twelve-foot ladder, scraping it all by hand with a little brush. And then carpenters, electricians, plumbers; we basically built everything from scratch.

brooklyn spaces: And the goal was always to make a living space where you could throw parties?
Steve: Yes. My East Village apartment was 600 square feet, and I had parties there for years. My scene was DJs and downtown artists, performers, and fashion people. We did First Friday salons every month, where people would come over and share what they did, creatively. It grew to the point where we had a keg in the bathtub and people lined up and down the stairs smoking cigarettes until 4 o’clock in the morning, and I just realized my neighbors hated me and I had to move.

SPANK party, photo by Jemma Nelson

brooklyn spaces: You had no resistance to coming to Brooklyn?
Steve: There was only Brooklyn. Where else could we go?
brooklyn spaces: What about your guests—was there resistance for them to come to Brooklyn?
Steve: Oh god, yes. This is back in the day when we had to actually print invitations and handwrite the addresses and put them in the mail. People didn’t even know about the G; back then we called it the Ghost Train. One friend came out for a salon here and didn’t have my phone number; he was banging on the door but we didn’t hear him, and he went back home and that was the end of our friendship. He was so upset about how far he’d had to come! Nowadays of course it’s no big deal, but then? Yeah, it was tough.

Blue Dinner Party

brooklyn spaces: What was the neighborhood like?
Steve: Well, Myrtle Avenue was called Murder Ave. There was a double homicide right up the block, there was a brothel across the street; once they threw a television out a fourth-floor window—what a spectacular crash. There were no gays, not many white kids. But what I loved about it was that it was Brooklyn, it felt so real to me. And I knew all my neighbors, they would all come to my parties. Now everybody looks alike and I hardly know any of them.

brooklyn spaces: How has it been, watching that change?
Steve: Well, I can actually eat in my neighborhood now. I can buy coconut ice cream at 4 in the morning, and there are boutiques and a yoga studio; but now I have to be concerned about how much noise I make. So it’s not the same but the neighborhood has retained a lot of its character, and I think it’s changing with some integrity. But we’ll see how it goes.

Midnight Magic

brooklyn spaces: Let’s talk about the parties. Tell me about some great ones or awful ones or really memorable ones.
Steve: Oh my, sixteen years. Let’s see. In probably 1999 we threw a series of parties called “b_list.” The price to get in was $3—the graffiti tag “$3 too much” is still in my hallway. We had breakdancers spinning on cardboard boxes, go-go dancers, the DJ atop the booth with his pants around his ankles; people were having sex in the bathroom, sex in the water-heater closet, sex in the corner—it was crazy. Someone shat on my couch in the supposedly locked storage area.

Halloween party

brooklyn spaces: Wow. Were all the parties that intense?
Steve: No, no, that was something of an anomaly. When I moved in here it was to make a playground for a variety of artists, and every party had basically two criteria: it had to be multi-disciplinary, and it had to change the space, so that every time you walked in here you went “Ooh, it’s totally different!” We did a series of “Art Inspired By Nature” parties that were very involved: from 6 to 9 it was a proper art gallery, from 9 to 11 there were performances, and then the lights would go down, the DJs would start, and, you know, my parents and all the neighborhood kids would vacate and it would turn into a real party. Those parties were so much effort! First we curated about 30 artists around a nature theme, and then I found an environmental nonprofit partner—for one about water, we partnered with Riverkeeper and they did a lecture for us on the New York Watershed; we also went to the Coney Island Aquarium and got a behind-the-scenes tour of feeding the sharks and propagating jellyfish. For another, about air, we partnered with Earthpledge. So it was about six months of work and planning leading up to a one-night event, and it was like BOOM, crescendo! And then massive depression afterward. It became very difficult to maintain that momentum.

Art Inspired By Nature party

brooklyn spaces: How did you keep from totally wearing yourself out?
Steve: Well, around 2005 I met the Wolf + Lamb guys and started throwing parties with them, which was much easier: all I had to do was set up and clean the space. They had a following, so they’d promote to their people, I’d promote to my people, and everyone would come. There was suddenly this thing called email, which made it all so much easier! So I’ve been doing mostly DJ parties ever since then. We’ve been doing the Mister Saturday Night parties for about five years now, with some Mister Sunday parties in the winter months. They’re the most magical parties, full of a diverse group of people, and even children. We really deck out the space with fun décor and art installations; we’ve been partnering with Jeffrey Ralston, who does amazing inflatables that make everyone smile.

Mister Sunday party

brooklyn spaces: So DJ parties became your main focus.
Steve: Yes, but I do still host smaller, more intimate and creative salons. We’ve had supper clubs and wine tastings and salsa dancing lessons and a jazz concert. Oh, and one of my favorite recent parties was for my birthday, a Bee-Day Party, because I’m now a beekeeper. We had flowers everywhere, there was a honey tasting, we had a little photo booth with Astroturf, a real log, a flower-ringed arbor, sky, clouds, and a kite. Jeff did these gigantic nine-foot inflatable flowers. It was wonderful.

Mister Saturday Night

brooklyn spaces: Tell me about one more really memorable party, where everything just worked perfectly.
Steve: A few years ago we did one called “Dante’s Inferno” in collaboration with the theatre collective Augenblick. It started in the city and went through the Nine Circles of Hell on the way here. The first and second were in Union Square, the third was on the L train platform, the fourth and fifth were in the Lorimer station, the sixth was on the G train at the Classon stop, and then on down the hill. When people approached 12-turn-13, we had all these performers out on the street: fire throwers and twirlers and a nine-foot monster. And then you came inside and the entire space was decorated to be Hell. People walked in through a green screen, and their images were projected in flames elsewhere in the space. It was incredible.

Dante's Inferno party

brooklyn spaces: Having come from the East Village and been here for so long, what do you think is the influence of Brooklyn on 12-turn-13—or the influence of 12-turn-13 on Brooklyn?
Steve: I came to Brooklyn at the right time. I think at this point, finding a space like this, it’s kind of too late unless you have a lot of money or you’re venturing much farther out. But I think there are still pockets all around. I have friends in the Rockaways who bought the Playland Motel, which is an amazing space, and I know there’s the whole industrial complex in Sunset Park that’s going to explode. There’s still that pioneering spirit, and there’s still space if you look for it. During the Red Bull Music Academy, Justin [Carter, of Mister Saturday Night] and I went out to Knockdown Center, and walking into that courtyard, seeing that massive building, I felt like it was 1996 again, this feeling of discovering something new and different and grand and ambitious and magnificent.

Salon Selects Supper Club

brooklyn spaces: Knockdown Center is one of my absolute favorite new spaces.
Steve: Architecturally, it’s astounding. It reminded me of the Lunatarium, this incredible space that was in Dumbo in the 2000s [ed note: check out Jeff Stark’s great piece on the closing of the Lunatarium], or the Fake Shop in Williamsburg, which was a huge warehouse where they had amazing inflatable installations and dark sensory-deprived crawl-space mazes you went through on your hands and knees. Knockdown Center for me was like, “Wow. It’s still happening.” There are always people who want to have an adventure, that craving for discovery. 12-turn-13 is the same, it’s a destination. You need to want to come here, but we’re going to throw such a good party that it will be worth the journey. At least, we hope it will.

***

Like this? Read about more underground party spaces: Rubulad, Gemini & Scorpio, Red Lotus Room, The Lab, Egg & Dart Club, Gowanus Ballroom, Newsonic

broken angel

oriana on 15 Mar ’13

neighborhood: clinton hill | space type: living space, maker | active since: 1979 | links: facebook, flickr

This article was written for Hyperallergic. See the original here.

Most of the coverage you’ll find about the Broken Angel, a handmade architectural marvel in Clinton Hill, begins the story in 2006, when there was a small fire that started all the trouble. That’s the year the tale switches from one about brilliant bohemian artists building their crazy dreamhouse to one about an eccentric old man overwhelmed by legal troubles, shady business partners, and the strangling bureaucracy of the city.

Before I delve into a little history of this incredible space, here’s the time-sensitive part: there’s a block party tonight to say farewell to the Broken Angel, which was originally organized as a small, ten-person gathering but has ballooned to an enormous, two-part spectacle, with over 900 people planning to attend. The festivities begin outside the house itself (4–6 Downing St.) for a family-friendly fête, and will then move to the Irondale Center for a fundraiser turned Brooklyn underground extravaganza, filled to the brim with dancers and performers and tall bikes and DJs and many, many surprises.

And now please read on to learn more about the mad genius whose work is being celebrated.

Arthur Wood has been likened to an American Gaudí. The Broken Angel has been compared to LA’s Watts Towers and Austin’s Cathedral of Junk. Borough President Marty Markowitz called it “a Rubik’s Cube of a spaceship.” It’s been termed vernacular architecture, folk art, outsider art, and—naturally, by some—a frightening eyesore. In its heyday, the Brooklyn Angel was surely the most strikingly unique sculptural works in all of New York. Tragically, much of it has been dismantled in the past decade, and what’s left is not likely to last much longer.

Arthur Wood (who is now 84) and his wife Cynthia (who passed away in 2010) bought the former Brooklyn Trolley headquarters at a city auction in 1979. They paid a mere $2,000 for the four-story, 10,000-square-foot building. And then they began to turn it into art.

Cynthia & Arthur in 2005

According to Shannon Kerner, a close friend of Arthur’s, the Woods began by tearing out the walls and floors and creating many different-sized rooms, some four sweeping stories high, others only five feet. The main staircase was a series of ladders and bridges. Most of the wood and other materials used were salvaged from the streets and garbage dumps, and the space was filled with handmade stained-glass windows Cynthia created from found glass and bottles. In the basement Arthur built a hot tub with a waterfall. And the best-known element of the Broken Angel was on the roof: the Woods constructed a spectacular forty-foot wood-and-glass sculpture on a mirrored platform, which made the whole structure seem to be floating in the clouds.

Shannon describes the rooftop sculpture:

The roof structure branched into two towers. The front one had a huge camera obscura which gave a 360º view of the neighborhood (seven flights up!). You could see blocks and blocks in great detail on a huge white linoleum table scavenged from the street. There was a sweet wooden deck up there too, for stargazing (Arthur loves inventing star-gazing equipment) or hanging out or making art. The back tower was a cool sculpture; you couldn’t hang out on it so much, but you could tangle yourself in its branches (I use the term “branches” metaphorically). In the back there was also another deck that was all stucco, it was like being in the Southwest U.S. The house was an amalgam of all kinds of amazing environments!

Brandon Stanton from Humans of New York, who interviewed Arthur in 2011, said, “Arthur’s sparkling ideas were built with other people’s trash. The concepts were towering and glistening. The realities were made of plywood.” The Woods spent decades creating their masterpiece, finishing major construction in 2002. On their son Chris’ Flickr page (from which all the photos in this post are taken), he said his parents “creat[ed] a home which brought mystery, magic and magnificence to a small cul-de-sac in Brooklyn.” The Village Voice deemed it the “Best Urban Folly” of 2001. In 2002 the New York Times wrote: “Depending on the angle, Broken Angel may resemble a blimp impaled on a church or a laboratory from which some mad scientist might launch a pedal-driven flying machine.” In 2004, Michel Gondry used the Broken Angel as the backdrop for Dave Chappelle’s Block Party. It represents the kind of fantastic treasure that revitalizes your excitement about your neighborhood, that renews your faith in art triumphing over everything—up to and including reason.

And then in 2006 there was a fire. It was small, on one of the top turrets. There was minimal damage and no one was hurt, but that was the point when things began to go downhill. The firefighters on the scene deemed the building unsafe to enter, and the Department of Buildings was notified. They immediately ruled the place unfit for occupancy and evicted the Woods, who were arrested a few days later when they refused to leave. To bring the building up to code—including tearing down the forty feet of additional structure on the roof—would cost around $3 million.

The community rallied around the Woods, including Pratt architecture professor Brent M. Porter, who, along with seven of his students, tried to prove that the building was, in fact, structurally sound. When that didn’t work, the Woods partnered with real estate developer Shahn Andersen to bring it up to code and convert it into condos and art studios. This was a hopeful moment, where it seemed that Arthur’s full vision for the Broken Angel would finally be realized, saving the fantastical space and even opening it up to artists and the community.

On Brownstoner, a commenter named phyllyslim recently talked about having considered joining the project, and the plans Arthur had for it:

The building was [going to be] transformed into a “museum of light” as he termed it… There was to be a parabolic dish in the cellar where light from a prism in the then existing cupola would be directed… There was to be the “cathedral of light” in the front addition where schoolchildren would come to play with interactive exhibits in light, and much more.

In addition, Brownstoner reported at the time that Arthur planned to cap it all off by creating a huge whale out of an old helicopter and hanging it from the building.

Arthur's blueprint for the finished project

After the fire, the Chris Woods wrote, “Many of you wonder what the hell my parents are doing with that building. They have always been building an outline of a dream.” And sadly, as with most such spectacularly unlikely dreams, this one was not to be. There followed three years of complicated legal and financial troubles, with loans defaulted on, trusts broken, promises unkept, and money gone missing. Shahn and Arthur went from collaborators to litigious enemies, and the property was foreclosed upon by the lender, Madison Realty Capital, in 2009. By then Broken Angel had been mostly gutted, the majority of its superbly unique elements removed. Shortly thereafter, in 2010, Cynthia lost her long battle with cancer. Arthur has been in and out of the building ever since.

Many feel that Arthur has been unfairly treated by the city and its emissaries. Arthur himself believes the Department of Buildings started the fire in order to come in and condemn the building. In 2007, Brownstoner noted “the intense level of scrutiny and apparent lack of straight dealing [Arthur and Shahn] received from both DOB and the courts,” and Chris wrote: “The department of Buildings and the City of New York should drop their campaign of harassment and recognize that Brooklyn wants the building that Arthur Wood envisioned, not another boring box of bricks. Why is our building under such scrutiny while other buildings in NY have actually collapsed?”

And the fight to goes on. Says Shannon, “This type of structure belongs in New York, in Brooklyn. We need places like this! Instead of tearing it down the city should have worked with him to preserve it, make it safe to their standards, sure, but make it better.” Shalin Sculpham, another friend of Arthur’s, told the New York Daily News, “It’s one of the weirdest, most beautiful buildings in New York—and his life’s work. And it’s being taken away.”

Now the city has given Arthur one more final notice, so barring another stay of execution, March 30th, 2013 will be Arthur’s last day in his home of nearly thirty years. Shannon says they chose to have a block party to give people a chance to say farewell to Broken Angel, “to wish Arthur well and maybe sing him a song or dance him a dance or do something to show their support of the situation. They could bring all their favorite memories of the space, shake his hand, share some cookies…” Chris has said that they would like to put together a time capsule to hide in the building, so people can bring something small to contribute to that. Ever hopeful, friends have put out an open call for (pro bono) legal help (contact brokenangelbk@gmail.com to get involved!), and a donation page has been set up, in the hopes of raising $50,000 to keep on fighting.

the Woods' stove

So this could really be the end of Broken Angel, but people have been saying that for nearly a decade—if not longer. Arthur is old now, and tired, but he’s still feisty, and he has support from many different corners. And after all, for someone who created the miraculous Broken Angel out of salvaged bottles and boards, would it be so unreasonable to hope for a few more years to keep creating miracles within it?

***

Like this? Read about more historic buildings: Brooklyn Lyceum, Brooklyn Historical Society, Bushwick Schoolhouse, Breuckelen Distilling Co., South Oxford Space, Trinity Project

cathedral of junk (austin)

oriana on 9 Apr ’12

neighborhood: south austin | space type: silliness | active since: 1988 | link: facebook

This is my first “honorary Brooklyn” post. I just came back from a trip to Austin with my sister & cousin, and although there were a half-dozen places I’d love to write about if I lived there and had more time—like the 21st Street Co-op, where we cooked for Food Not Bombs, or the massive, gorgeous “Graffiti Park,” where we clambered around in the dark taking photos, or Spider House, where we saw the amazingly creepy Boessi Kreh, complete with a woman erotically kneading bread dough onstage—by far the most spectacularly weird place we went was the Cathedral of Junk.

I was strongly encouraged to get to the Cathedral by Bk Spaces photographer Alix Piorun (read her post about it here), but when we brought it up to our Austin friends, everyone said two things: “I think that place got torn down,” and “It’s really really far away.” Neither of these things are true. Although the Cathedral has been threatened with dismantlement and cited for code violation several times, it’s still kicking. And it’s less than a half hour bus ride from downtown Austin.

The Cathedral is the project of Vincent Hannemann, a totally lovable curmudgeon who answered the phone when we called ahead, chided us for not banging the gong hard enough when we arrived, and then toured us around the Cathedral himself, scolding us for not being clever enough with our photo poses. He has “JUNK KING” tattooed on his knuckles, told us stories about a few of the bizarre items in the Cathedral (“Oh, that one’s really creepy; my ex-wife made it”), and tolerated our poking around his giant trash statue for a couple of hours.

The photos should speak for the Cathedral itself. The main structure is three stories high and has several little rooms. It is made of just about everything you can think of: bicycle parts, lawn chairs, decapitated Barbies, a rusted fridge, crutches, a diving board bridge, zillions of plastic trinkets, cement-filled tires, busted electronics, glass bottles, a box spring, road signs, bathtubs, CDs, broken toys, car seats, shopping carts, and countless knickknacks of all sizes that are a lot harder to identify. There are a bunch of satellite statuettes, a few junk shacks, and smaller sculptures. It’s altogether a fantastic mess, and so so so worth a visit.

Here’s a whole slew more pix, taken by me and my sis. Enjoy!

that's me!

that's my sis!

***

Like this? Read about more silliness: Broken Angel, Idiotarod, Lost Horizon Night Market, Dumpster Pools

idiotarod

oriana on 4 Jun ’11

neighborhood: all over | active since: 2003 | space type: silliness | links: website, wikipedia

This post is a cheat, I know. The Idiotarod is not a space, and it’s not even always (or only) in Brooklyn. But it is so ludicrous, so fantastically silly, that I don’t care. There’s so many things like this—Lost Horizon Night Market, Improv Everywhere, Newmindspace, Fluff’s Stuff—silliness and spectacle just for the sake of it, which is what makes this the best, funnest place to be. It’s part of the essence of Brooklyn for me.

image via nileguide.com

So what’s the Idiotarod? Well, as their website explains: “The Iditarod is the famous long-distance race in which yelping dogs tow a sled across Alaska. The Idiotarod is pretty much the same thing, except that instead of dogs, it’s people, instead of sleds, it’s shopping carts, and instead of Alaska, it’s New York City.” How this works is that teams of five people pick a theme, ~~steal~~ acquire a shopping cart, dress themselves and their cart up accordingly, and race from checkpoint to checkpoint, usually for about five miles and over at least one bridge. Sabotage is encouraged, as is throwing food or snow, and, of course, drinking. No one knows where the race will begin or end, or where the checkpoints will be, until the last possible minute. Prizes are awarded at a secret afterparty for things like fastest team, best costumes, best sabotage, etc.

photo by Colin Colfer

Want to hear more from people who have done it? Check out my interview with Alix and Leila! (That’s them in the top photo on this page, Alix on the right and Leila on the left, part of team Andrew W.K.art in Idiotarod 2012.)

picture by pixietart, via Gothamist

brooklyn spaces: When was your first race?
Leila: I did it for the first time in 2007, and our theme was the Cold War Kids. Half of us were dressed as Americans and half as Russians, and we divided the cart in half, and in one half we had a vodka bottle and the Communist Manifesto, and in the other we had an old McDonald’s carton that we found on the street, and then I took a dish towel and covered it with duct tape and wrote “The Iron Curtain” on it and hung it on the front. In 2008 I was Jem, and 2009 we were the Oregon Trail of Death. In 2010 I took off, which I’m glad I did, because Alix says that was the coldest day of her life. This year we did it together, and we were Clam Rock.
Alix: I first did it in 2008, and we were the Boston Tea Party. We had wet teabags to throw at people—there was a lot of food throwing then. Our cart had a Sam Adams picture on it, and we decorated it as a boat. In 2009 we were The Price Is Wrong, Bitch! In 2010 we were Gilligan’s Island. I got my boyfriend to do it, and two other friends. I was like, “It’s going to be really fun!” And then it was just the coldest day ever. I only had fingerless gloves on and I could not feel my fingers once we started running. We’re running, my eyes are tearing and I can’t see, snot is flying. My friends were like “Why the fuck would you do this? This is not fun at all.”

photo by Tod Seelie, vie Brooklyn Vegan

brooklyn spaces: Tell me about the actual mechanics of the race.
Leila: Okay, the mechanics of the race are stupid, it’s incredibly disorganized. It takes a lot of effort to even figure out when the race is happening.
Alix: They don’t really have much information on the website. It used to be run by COBRA, Carts of Brooklyn Racing Association, and then I guess they “sold” it to Corporation X. Or no, COBRA gave it to Team Danger Zone, and then they gave it to Corporation X.
Leila: Once you’ve figured out when it is, you have to figure out how the sign-up works, because the fact that you’ve done it in the past doesn’t mean they’ll assume you might be interested again and tell you about it. And they make it really hard for you to sign up. This year we had to complete an eight-page form filled with stupid questions, which we had to get notarized—we faked the notary. Then they text or email to say where it’s going to leave from, and everybody knows it’s a lie. That used to be to mislead the police, but now it’s just tradition. You have to wait until like 8:00 on the morning of the race to find out where to go. One year we started in Chinatown, one year we started in Queens, one year we started at fucking like 63rd and York or something.
Alix: Every race goes over at least one bridge, so it’s cross-borough. But this year there was a lot of snow still on the ground, and I think that they changed it around at the last minute, because we just stayed in Brooklyn. Anyway, you have to go to four or five checkpoints, and you have to complete stupid tasks before they tell you where to go next. Sometimes you can leave early if you bribe the people there, so a lot of people bring mini bottles of booze for that.

photo from Kotaku

brooklyn spaces: What are some of the tasks?
Alix: This year, one was you had to blow a feather and keep it in the air longer than the other team, or there’s races around the bar, or you have to find someone and have them give you something.
Leila: Sabotage used to be a big part of it. One time we were going across the bridge into Queens, and people were pouring dishwashing soap down the bridge, and everybody started doing the thing like you see in cartoons, where people are like “Whooooaaaa!” with their legs.
Alix: There was another sabotage where someone had a bowling ball they would put it in people’s carts. They put it in ours and we didn’t notice. We were running, going, “Why is this thing so heavy?” And with the sabotage, you never know if you’re going to the right place. The first year I did it there was a fake checkpoint, they just said, “You have to stand here for twenty minutes, this is the first checkpoint.” Some people were like, “This is fake, we’re leaving!” and then you’re like, “Well, is that a sabotage?” You can’t trust anyone.

photo by Colin Colfer

brooklyn spaces: What are some of your favorite carts that you’ve seen?
Leila: The Roman Chariot was really good. They had like forty people, including Remus and Romulus, and there were all these people in matching costumes, and this triumphant Roman Empire–style music
Alix: My first year there was a team that I think was called Two Girls One Cart. They had two blowup dolls and this huge tub of poop-looking stuff, and they were throwing the pudding-poop at people. When we were running over the Manhattan Bridge, there was this huge goop of pudding just dripping down the railing of the bridge.

photo by Matthew Bradley via geekoutnewyork

brooklyn spaces: Does anyone get in trouble?
Leila: One time when we were outside of a checkpoint, a cop drove by very slowly, and shouted over his bullhorn, “Please at least try to not let me see that you are drinking in public!” And everyone was like “Okay, we’ll try.”

photo by Aaron Short, via Brooklyn Paper

brooklyn spaces: And so is it the funnest thing you do all year?
Alix: I love it. If you have a really good cart design, and other people have really good cart designs, it’s great. Just looking at the carts is really cool. When you line up at the starting point, everyone’s checking out all the other carts and taking pictures.
Leila: It’s also a cool way to see neighborhoods you don’t usually get to see.
Alix: It’s the only time I ever run, too. It’s like a five-mile run every year. So yeah, it’s fun. And it’s a tradition. It’s this thing we do every year that we get to amaze our friends with.

***

Like this? Read about more public art spectacle: Lost Horizon Night Market, Dumpster Pools, Broken Angel, Bring to Light, Cathedral of Junk

lost horizon night market

oriana on 9 May ’11

neighborhood: nomadic | space type: guerilla art | active since: 2009 | links: website

Okay, the Lost Horizon Night Market isn’t exactly a space, it’s more an idea contained in many, many spaces. But it’s such a spectacularly fun idea—and several of the awesomest nights I’ve had in my ten years living in New York—I couldn’t possibly not cover it.

The Night Market is a crazy guerilla art event, masterminded by Mark Krawczuk and Kevin Balktick (interview with Kevin below!). Every few months, dozens of people rent box trucks, make them over into interactive art installations, park them on an empty block in a desolate corner of Brooklyn, then roll up the doors and invite people in to play. The whole event only lasts about four hours, and then the trucks drive away and it’s like nothing ever happened. Melissa, who did the Campfire Truck with her art collective, Blood Dumpster, said, “The whole concept reminds me of gypsy caravans or traveling circuses in the way that they would roam from town to town, set up shop for the day, and then be gone by morning.”

photo by Maximus Comissar

At the Night Market in March 2011, some of the trucks I played in were: The Teapot Dome Disaster, where we all sat around a long table and were served green tea; Granny’s Attic, dense with clothes and dishes and books and detritus, all for the taking (I got a plate and a scarf!); Bass Tsunami Truck, where I walked along suspended planks and my whole body vibrated with the pumping bass; Space Truck, filled with fog, where moonmen urged us to “drink of the body of space” while proffering a goblet of punch; the Petting Zoo and BBQ Truck, in which, after cozying up to some very lifelike papier-mâché cows and pigs, we were served delicious cubes of barbecued pork; and the Smash Truck, where lucky participants went behind plexiglass and donned goggles to smash up old electronics with a hammer. Some trucks I missed: the Hot Tub Truck (yes, for swimming in), the Strip Truck (yup, with actual strippers), the Boxing Truck (with a ring and costumes for the competitors), and so much more.

The Big Quiz Thing, photo by Maximus Comissar

According to Melissa, “making a truck pushed me to think outside my normal boundaries. This was trying to immerse not just one person, like most art, but a large group of people into a different setting, and to play on the expectations of what they would find in the back of a truck.” The possibilities really are endless.

Noah, who did the Big Quiz Thing, a spinoff of his company of the same name, said, “This is the kind of thing we live in NYC for. I’m always amazed how much effort people put into things like this, expecting no financial reward. It renews your faith in the human race, and in the positive power of art.” I couldn’t agree more!

photo by Michael Blase

brooklyn spaces: What was the genesis of such a crazy project?
Kevin: Mark saw this pickup truck with a pagoda thing on top at Burning Man, and he thought they were serving sushi. It turned out that they weren’t, but he thought it was great and wanted to do something like it. There’s an event called Decompression that the New York Burning Man community puts on here, and he decided to do it there. I was working that night, and I was on the radio, and someone announced, “By the way, I would strongly suggest that everyone check out the secret Japanese noodle restaurant running out of a truck in the parking lot.” And, lo and behold, there was a fully functioning ten-seat restaurant serving freshly made noodles, running out of this rental truck. Mark did that a few more times, once in front of Rubulad, once in Dumbo, bringing the truck to different parties. And then we started thinking, “Let’s do an event where everything is in trucks!” The first official symposium for the Night Market was held in a truck parked behind a building in Dumbo, and the first Night Market was three or four blocks from there, during the Dumbo Arts Under the Bridge weekend about a year and a half ago. We had about ten trucks, and it was the only Night Market that will ever happen where every person got to see every truck. This past one is the fifth we’ve had in New York. San Francisco has had two. There are other cities that are interested in picking it up, too. It’s turned into a really nice project. And it started with Mark and the noodle truck at Decompression.

outside the Boxing Truck, photo by me

brooklyn spaces: I tried to get into the noodle truck, but the line was too long.
Kevin: Yeah, it gets pretty brutal.
brooklyn spaces: But they did a good job, they had someone standing outside giving haiku assignments to keep the masses entertained.
Kevin: That’s something we just learned. One of the San Francisco Markets had an Alice in Wonderland truck, and there was a guy at the back of the lift-gate telling riddles, and whoever answered the riddle got to go in, whether they’d showed up an hour ago or five seconds ago. That was the dawn of the line-based entertainment. I’ve got to do something for my truck next time, because I always have a line, and people are always standing there looking unhappy.
brooklyn spaces: Because especially as it gets later, you start to panic, since there’s so much left that you haven’t seen yet.
Kevin: Well there’s no way to see all of the trucks at this point. In theory if you spent exactly six minutes in each truck or whatever you could do it, but that’s kind of pointless.

inside the Teapot Dome Disaster, photo by Maximus Comissar

brooklyn spaces: How did you publicize it at the beginning?
Kevin: We didn’t. And the reason for that is because it’s an event with a very finite capacity. We’ve always said that the rule of thumb is: “Don’t invite anyone you wouldn’t invite to a party in your home.”

Circus Truck, photo by me

brooklyn spaces: As the originator of the event, how much authority do you bring to it? How much do you have to do?
Kevin: Technically speaking, we have no authority. These are all things that happen in public places, so from a certain perspective, we can’t tell anyone what to do. The planning really consists of getting our friends together and encouraging people to do trucks, helping them conceptualize and things like that, setting up the meetings and symposia, and then Mark and I drive around a lot and look for places that we feel would work right. It’s actually a sort of very reasonable amount of planning, because everyone is totally self-contained. It’s just not a ton of work for something that creates a lot of joy for a lot of people. Everyone involved does a little bit of work, but no one has to give their life up to make sure one of these things happens.

Campfire Truck, photo by Maximus Comissar

brooklyn spaces: What have been some of your favorite trucks?
Kevin: I’ve actually seen fewer trucks than most patrons, since I’m often presiding over my own. But some of the most memorable for me have been the Surveillance Truck, the Sleep EZ Motor Inn, the Hot Tub Truck, the Strip Truck, Make It Happen, the Smash Truck, and, of course, the Lost Horizon Noodle Bar.

brooklyn spaces: What are some you’d still like to do or see?
Kevin: There are so many ideas out there. My favorite clever idea that no one has done yet is the Needle in a Haystack.

Pillow Talk Truck, photo by Maximus Comissar

brooklyn spaces: Any final thoughts?
Kevin: The Night Market gives people a platform to realize projects without having to worry about renting a venue or promoting themselves. It’s a forum for DIY creativity and entertainment. We believe that it’s a nicer world when everyone can create with and learn from one another instead of relying on the world of commerce to tell you what to do and who to meet. We didn’t invent and certainly don’t own the idea of truck-based entertainment. Anyone can do this; you don’t have to wait for us to tell you when the next one is going to be. Rent a truck. Do something neat. Invite your friends. Have fun.

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Like this? Read about more public art & spectacle: Dumpster Pools, Broken Angel, Idiotarod, Bring to Light, Cathedral of Junk

dumpster pools

oriana on 1 May ’11

neighborhood: gowanus | space type: silliness | active: 2009 | link: website

update, Aug 2011: Macro|Sea, the brains behind this amazing project, are at it again. In conjunction with 3rd Ward, Artists Wanted, The Danger, and chashama, they’re putting on The Palms, “a late summer ode to the Boca Raton Resort Pools of the 1940s (with more music, spectacle and hedonism).” It’s not actually in Brooklyn, but I headed to Queens to see it, with Leila of everydaytrash, of course (read her take on it here). I thought it was totally fun! DJs and lounge chairs and fancy cocktails and a lobster roll truck—and, of course, the pools, which are pretty amazing to behold. Here’s a few pix by Maximus Comissar (but with my crappy camera).

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My brilliant friend Leila, one of my main blogging inspirations, writes an amazing garbage blog called everydaytrash.com. In 2009, she and two other trashies (visible trash and Ruby Reusable) started Decorative Dumpster Day, “the biennial holiday during which we take a moment to think about where we are depositing our waste by posting photos on blogs of decorated trash receptacles,” and this year she invited me to participate. Of course the first thing I thought of was the Dumpster Pools, which I’ve read about, but sadly never got to see. It’s one of the projects that caused the idea for Brooklyn Spaces to start percolating in my head, though, and I’m happy to pay tribute to a fantastically cool idea.

photo from current.com

ReadyMade Magazine broke the story. Inspired by a similar project in Georgia by Curtis Crowe of Pylon, in 2009 a trio of designers called Macro|Sea (Jocko Weyland, David Belt, and Alix Feinkind) decided to create functional guerilla art by repurposing Dumpsters into swimming pools. According to the group, the point of the project was to show that “with not too much expense, you can creatively reuse what is basically considered urban detritus and make something really cool and fun and also fairly easy to put together.” The Dumpsters were donated by a construction company, and then cleaned, sealed, lined, and filled with water—all in only twelve days. The pools opened on July 4th, 2009, and the group held very exclusive, invite-only pool parties all summer in a rented lot on the Gowanus Canal, which, in addition to the three pools, featured a BBQ grill, lounge chairs, a changing cabana, and a bocce ball court.

photo from superforest.org

In August 2010, the project was replicated in Midtown Manhattan, by invitation from Mayor Bloomburg. Macro-Sea has future plans to take the project on the road and set up Dumpster pools in strip malls all across the country, starting in Atlanta. With such a terrific intersection of practical reuse, summer fun, and serious silliness, the Dumpster Pools were a perfect Brooklyn summer project well worth sharing with the rest of the country.

pools under construction (photo from ramblinworker.com)

photo from readymade.com

Read more about the Dumpster Pools: ReadyMade, Inhabit, New York Times, Gawker, Brokelyn, Gothamist

Like this? Read about more public art & spectacle: Bring to Light, Lost Horizon Night Market, Broken Angel, Idiotarod, Cathedral of Junk