Modified pedestrian lights in New York — including Bedford Ave — a reminder of 9-11



As one class at Miami Ad School Brooklyn spent Tuesday night spray-chalking a memorial to the victims of 9/11 in Queens, another class was creating a street art project of their own. Six international students from the school are behind a guerilla project that turned pedestrian traffic lights around Manhattan and Brooklyn into symbols of remembrance. The stop symbol was modified to resemble the fallen Twin Towers, while a message reads “9/11. Forward. Together.” underneath it.

Watch the video below: [Read more…]

Tequila and Art This Friday at REVERSE

This week, the REVERSE art space in Williamsburg is celebrating its inaugural exhibition, Uncharted Waters, with an event on Friday, April 12th at 7pm. The event will feature new work by emerging and established artists. Herradura Tequila will provide cocktails.

REVERSE also participates in “EVERY 2:ND,” a recurring event on the second Friday of each month when local art spaces and galleries stay open until 9pm. The monthly events “showcase cutting-edge exhibitions, performances and conceptual soirees,” a REVERSE organizer tells FREEwilliamsburg.

REVERSE is at 28 Frost Street, ground floor. Press release after the jump. [Read more…]

Five Borough Art Installation Chronicles Neighborhood Shout-Outs In Rap Lyrics

We love this, but can’t recall any Bedford, Lorimer, or Wythe Ave shout-outs:

After schooling New Yorkers on etiquette via numerous unsanctioned interventions, artist Jay Shells channeled his love of hip hop music and his uncanny sign-making skills towards a brand new project: “Rap Quotes.”

For this ongoing project, Shells created official-looking street signs quoting famous rap lyrics that shout out specific street corners and locations. He then installed them at those specific street corners and locations.

More at Animal NY.

Recalling 1993: Manhattan Pay Phones Transformed Into Time Capsules

Sadly no Brooklyn phones were included in this project, but we still think this is pretty cool: Via The Awl:

In association with the exhibition at the New Museum, they’ve installed 5000 New York City pay phones with recorded messages about what was happening around you in 1993. Find a phone, call (855) FOR-1993, and suddenly Robin Byrd and James St. James (girrrlll!) are telling you about the good times.

This Week’s Art Crawl: Skin, Spock, Sounds, Suburbs

First, a compulsory “Oh right, it’s Armory Week” note: Oh right, it’s Armory Week. Keep it local this Saturday, March 9th, ’cause it’s Brooklyn Armory Night and the 11th anniversary of Williamsburg Afterhours. Galleries in Bushwick, Greenpoint, and Williamsburg will be open until 10pm with participating bars/restaurants; thanks to WAGMAG and Pernod, there’s an app to make you a well-informed lushexcursionist.

Second: Here’s a list of some other picks, much shorter and sweeter than a 12-hour filibuster.

Yours truly,

Rachel de Joode at Interstate Projects

Rachel de Joode: “The Hole and the Lump” at Interstate Projects

I know nothing about clay except for the fact that it makes me think of Patrick Swayze, shirtless, in Ghost. Uncouth? Maybe. Rachel de Joode, a Berlin-based artist and founder of META Magazine, has thought about it differently after talking to a Mexican shaman about the Mayan belief that human bodies came from clay. With this in mind, “The Hole and the Lump” is corporeal in more ways than one. Through March 17.

Interstate Projects
66 Knickerbocker Ave
Brooklyn NY 11237

More after the jump.

[Read more…]

Opening Tonight: Nature is Ancient at The Yard

Meg Wachter

Inspired by the sounds of Björk, Meg Wachter brings the Icelandic landscape to photographic life in Nature is Ancient, a hyperballad of big time sensuality in hidden places, somewhere between human behavior and pagan poetry. Did you get all those greatest hit references? Did you? When she’s not trekking along mountains and volcanoes, Wachter has one hand in Brooklyn Skillshare and the other in Got a Girl Crush. Don’t miss tonight’s vespertine (!) reception at The Yard, from 6-9pm; if you can’t make it, take a peek at photos from her visit here.


Looking Up: Skyward at The Boiler

Kevin Cooley: Skyward at The Boiler

When my alarm goes off, I immediately think: “Still winter. What would Louis CK do?” I figure I can order a pizza at 7:00am, Hour of Darkness that it is, and swim in a combination of shame/disgust, but I stick to a milder routine: mumble some made-up obscenity, wave a middle finger in the general direction of my window, and stare at my economy-sized container of Vitamin D supplements, all while mopping up an endless stream of poisonous, pitch-black tears. What I’m getting at is this: Stop crying and pack up your sun lamp, ‘cause this seasonal affective garbage is almost over.

Before we push the clocks forward, though, there’s Kevin Cooley’s Skyward at The Boiler and its blue stretch of surreal Los Angeles sky. The video installation—a single tracking shot that starts downtown and takes us to Palos Verdes—plays 40 feet above a plot of artificial turf, where you can sprawl out like a stargazer—like you’re kicking back in a convertible—and make the misanthropic monstrosity of MTA rush hour take a backseat. And that’s nice, isn’t it?—trading out underground asphyxiation for something kinder to human maladjustment? Something that doesn’t involve a subterranean stranger shaking down your idea of personal space and breathing so hard on you that he must think you’ll cut him a check with a dollar amount that matches MPH? Yeah, that’s nice.

What’s also nice is a prescription of airplanes, palm trees, freeways, and feathered creatures.  Here’s to temporary teleportation—to daydreams of Malibu Barbie and Ryan Gosling, ca. 2011. Through March 17.

Tips and/or blisteringly cruel insults to: [email protected] / @kaleidofox

Life Beyond Death (We Hope) in the Age of Dystopia

Fisher Body 21, Detroit, MI (2008)

“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”—shit, there, I did it. How does that sound? Too cliché?  Are you going to tell me that Dickens is rolling in his grave? Drama.

Point is, Sean Hemmerle’s Rust Belt has the pulse of A Tale of Two Cities, except it’s about ten, twenty cities—more. It’s the Motor City, the Magic City of Steel; it’s Waterville, Ohio and Braddock, Pennsylvania. And while it’s at The Front Room, it’s about looking in from our city, and about figuring out what that means and where that’s going. It escapes dilution—this is not “just” about Detroit; this is not “just” about abandoned automobile factories—but also risks perpetuating the fly-over state fable of economic undoing, of irreversible urban decay, of industrial architecture forever suspended in animation. Are you ready to have the ol’ ruin porn (ooh, cringe) debate? Don’t play dumb; you saw that coming. You can condemn the bleak memorialization of “lost” grandeur, but there are plenty of tents pitched in that camp and it’s starting to feel a little hot in here, AMIRIGHT? Use this as an opportunity to move the conversation forward. C’mon, New Yawwwk; make like Linda Richman and discuss. Through March 10th.

Samantha Wolner of My Social List