The next day after the opening reception of the Made In Ridgewood exhibit at OUTPOST Artists Resources, decided to spend Sunday checking out the rest of Bushwick Open Studios 2016. After all, BOS is in my backyard.
This year, 2016, Bushwick Open Studios was moved from summer to fall. Rumor had it that BOS was attracting too much of the “frat party” crowd. Therefore it was moved to late September. In a way, can’t say I blame them. Although the tourists have already discovered part of Bushwick. Which means the clock is ticking. At this point it’s just a matter of time. Gentrification really does suck.
My first stop was this tiny flea market on Wyckoff Avenue between Dekalb and Jefferson. I was greeted by this sight:
Didn’t stay too long in this flea market. Having always been a fan of thrift shop curios, there were some things that caught my eye. Didn’t buy anything basically because I have too many items in my home already. Met this lady who has this neat shop on Etsy called Neocronomicharm. The jewelry is right up my alley.
Continuing along Wyckoff. Here was my first official sighting of a BOS showing. Inside a parked car. Nearby that overpriced gourmet market Hana Natural. Hana’s is the only place in Bushwick where its mark-up is more pricey than anything in Manhattan.
Due to being busy, I didn’t bother looking up any BOS guides online. My first stop was the popular Cobra Club. Used to spend a lot of time there, meeting the usual dysfunctional characters. One time me and a friend heckled this host doing some lame trivia night. Turns out we knew all the correct answers, but what was the point? So we said “peanut butter” to every question asked. At one point the host requested not to answer anymore questions with “peanut butter” but that only prompted us even more. This was nothing compared to one night in early November 2014. The host doing trivia that night presented a question about The Sex Pistols. Sex Pistols!?! How corny can you get? I was already in a foul mood, so I yelled from the back of the place “WHAT THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THE SEX PISTOLS!?!” The millennial host stood there in silence for about a minute, then dropped the question completely, moving onto a different subject. While it wasn’t fair to assume he didn’t know what he was talking about, it was still a cheesy trivia question regardless.
Despite trivia nights, I still like Cobra a lot. This year Cobra has a music photography exhibit in the back room. This is where Cobra usually has bands perform, karaoke (another thing I hate), burlesque and yoga. The photographer was Jeanette D. Moses.
Having only stayed in Cobra Club for a few minutes, I moved on to the next few sightings. Such as the street art and wall murals. Just as I snapped the below photo, someone approached me claiming to be a talent scout. She complemented me on my hair, said I had a “good vibe”, then took a few photos of me. This doesn’t matter as I’m not photogenic anyway. Was this a scam? Regardless, I suspect she was turned off once I revealed my true age.
Continuing onward. Checking out more street art and wall murals.
Then I saw this:
A tour guide giving guided walks discussing street art to tourists. A fricken’ tour guide. In Bushwick, Brooklyn. Hey, guess everyone has to make a living. Still prompted me to post this on Facebook from my smartphone:
Saw some more street mural art.
A reminder of where I was:
Switching gears, I decided to check out the studios 1717 Troutman Street. I found this tiny place on Cypress Avenue called Mextasis Se Habla Arte Mexicano.
Once arriving at 1717 Troutman, it was kinda like BOS jackpot. Every studio was buzzing with activity. Exhaustion was starting to come down, so I only stayed on the third floor.
Artist Jaclyn Brown uses dogs and cats in her paintings.
It was time to head back home, passing by the empty PBR cans as if they were hipster crumb trails (as my friend kindly stated). Despite my snarky commentary, this year’s BOS was a good one. Definitely way too many things to see for two days. Till next year, unless I get priced out thanks to the glory of gentrification.