Here are a few pictures of me picking up a painting. Once a lifetime ago, I was married and lived in DUMBO, Brooklyn. My ex had found a bunch of my art that she didn't want and got in touch with me to pick them up or they were getting dumped. A few of them I still liked and hadn't realized she still had them.
I stopped in and picked them up. We talked a bit and then I was off. I had a bag full of small paintings and this one pretty sizable one! It was a warm spring day so I went the long way to see how my old neighborhood had changed. Originally I moved in there in '95 so I had witnessed quite a change (For the worst in my opinion) over the eleven or so years I lived there.
Gentrification can be a bitch! I always hated that I was always a gentrifier. It was a pretty desolate uninviting area when I moved in. Most of the buildings were empty except a few that had a bunch of painters and sculptors practically camping in them. Everyone had makeshift shower systems and heat. Probably 90% of the spaces (maybe more) were illegal occupancy so the typical camouflage was to make your space look like a wood shop in case a building inspector managed to get in the building. But the spaces were big and cheap. There were no stores except a small deli the size of a mini van that primarily sold cigarettes that was open for a few hours in the afternoon. It might have been open in the morning but I never woke up before noon and I didn't smoke cigarettes.
I walked to the river front and snapped a few pictures of my painting and then considered
walking it across the Brooklyn Bridge into my current neighborhood by Wall Street. But then I thought the subway would be easier.
I stopped in and picked them up. We talked a bit and then I was off. I had a bag full of small paintings and this one pretty sizable one! It was a warm spring day so I went the long way to see how my old neighborhood had changed. Originally I moved in there in '95 so I had witnessed quite a change (For the worst in my opinion) over the eleven or so years I lived there.
Gentrification can be a bitch! I always hated that I was always a gentrifier. It was a pretty desolate uninviting area when I moved in. Most of the buildings were empty except a few that had a bunch of painters and sculptors practically camping in them. Everyone had makeshift shower systems and heat. Probably 90% of the spaces (maybe more) were illegal occupancy so the typical camouflage was to make your space look like a wood shop in case a building inspector managed to get in the building. But the spaces were big and cheap. There were no stores except a small deli the size of a mini van that primarily sold cigarettes that was open for a few hours in the afternoon. It might have been open in the morning but I never woke up before noon and I didn't smoke cigarettes.
I walked to the river front and snapped a few pictures of my painting and then considered
walking it across the Brooklyn Bridge into my current neighborhood by Wall Street. But then I thought the subway would be easier.
2 train. Manhattan bound.
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