Red Hook has long been one of my favorite running destinations. When Eric and I were first together, and I was using my visits to explore Brooklyn, Red Hook seemed to me like the quintessential Brooklyn neighborhood: low-rise, industrial, unpretentious, tight-knit, nautical.
Once I moved here for good, I decided that I loved it because those same attributes reminded me of Detroit.
It’s also a great neighborhood for street art, and over the years, I’ve compiled quite a gallery of snapshots taken on the run. Some of the works still exist in more-or-less their original state, some have gone the way of the old Revere sugar refinery, and some are weathered and tagged-up (kind of like me).
A sampling follows. Continue reading
Today’s look at Brooklyn street art focuses on street art that’s not only aware of itself as street art, it demands that you be aware of it, too.
Like this late, great piece in Gowanus, dripping with irony as well as gold.
Then there’s this contribution, which can still be seen in Bed Stuy.
And this from Bushwick, with extra irony courtesy of a passerby.
But my hands-down favorite is the piece at the top of this post, found in Sunset Park. I like the fact that there’s nothing ironic about it. It’s clever, sure, but it’s cleverness that celebrates creativity, not the other way around.
Taking selfies while facing the sun, and racing in a keffiyeh: two bad ideas. (Photo credit: Lisa Maya Knauer)
I haven’t raced in six months and a day, and the Gaza 5K was the perfect way to ease back in. The emphasis of this race is on fundraising (to support community mental health services for kids in Gaza) and community. It doesn’t start on time, the course isn’t accurately measured, there are no mile markers, and the chaotic starting area is crowded with kids and strollers – but so what? How many other races do you know that culminate in a dabke dance party? Continue reading
“My dog needs to run.”
Warning: this post contains misogynist and racist language.
Spring has sprung, the trails in Prospect Park are clear of snow, daffodils are beginning to bloom, phoebes and kinglets are back . . . filling me with weariness as I look ahead to more encounters with the owners of off-leash dogs. Continue reading
In honor of the Frida Kahlo exhibit currently on display at the Brooklyn Museum, I present . . . this strange and unsettling mural in Prospect Heights (on Park between Vanderbilt and Underhill).
While I’m not actually a huge fan of Kahlo’s art, and am bemused by the cult-like following that’s sprung up around her, there’s no denying her creativity, her capacity for self-invention, and the fascination of her too-short life. This mural honors all those things, I think.
The most reliable place to see eagles in Brooklyn? The walls and shutters of Sunset Park.
There’s something special about urban raptors. To catch a glimpse of a soaring turkey vulture from the F train, to see a peregrine falcon in a high-speed dive, or to watch red-tailed hawks perch on a fire escape is to be reminded that there’s an older, fiercer, wilder city within the city. Continue reading
Food and desire in Carroll Gardens
There are certain naming conventions for bodegas. Initials are popular (“L&L Grocery Deli”); so are street numbers (“513 Deli & Grill”). Many bodega names pay tribute to the owners’ city or region of origin (witness the Punjab and Himalayan groceries in Kensington, or the Pueblas, Cholulas and Chinantlas scattered across the borough). In gentrified neighborhoods, bodegas often incorporate “gourmet,” “organic,” or “fresh” into their signage – even as their shelves overflow with Doritos and Red Bull.
This post pays tribute to bodegas that break with convention, adopting names that are especially evocative, sweet, retro or just plain odd.
A sampling follows. Continue reading