Inside the East Village studio of artist Glenn Booth, where concrete meets memory

Photos and interview by Stacie Joy 

When artist Glenn Booth moved to 50 E. First St. in the early 1980s, half the buildings on the block were burned out, and the street was, as he recalls, one of the city's biggest heroin markets.

More than four decades later, Booth is still here, creating art in a basement studio next to OSMOS gallery. The space is filled with artwork, materials and reminders of the neighborhood's past, including an old Tower Books backing and references to long-gone East Village galleries.

Known for his masks made from recycled bicycle helmets, Booth has also been creating concrete paintings — substantial pieces that can weigh 70 pounds or more.

We visited Booth to talk about his early years in the neighborhood, his evolving work and the serious injury that has made the physical demands of creating art more difficult.

How long have you been creating art in this space? 

I bought an apartment upstairs in the early '80s. I've been in this building since then. When I moved here, I was married, and this block was one of the biggest heroin markets in the city. Half the buildings were burned down or burned out. 

At first, I had another studio down on Canal Street. Then this spot opened up, so I rented it from the co-op. I've been working here since probably the early '90s.

What were you doing before you came to New York? 

I went to Wayne State University [in Detroit]. After I graduated, I didn't have money, so I worked in an auto factory outside a foundry. Actually, it was the same company my great-grandfather had worked for. 

Shortly after I graduated, I was included in an art show at the Detroit Institute of Arts. I was 21, and I found early success. I had a lot of shows in Michigan. Then, when I moved to New York, I was in a lot of local group shows.

I'm familiar with your masks made from recycled bicycle helmets. Are these concrete paintings a departure from that work? 

No, they're still concrete paintings. It's concrete, although cement is the binder. They're all concrete frames. 

Have you exhibited these pieces? 

Not really. I've never shown most of them. A couple of years ago, I had an open studio, so I showed a few. But I was showing other work, too.

Would you consider opening the studio again so people could see them? 

Yeah. I'd rather show them in a gallery space, though, because it's cleaner and bigger. These paintings have two layers of concrete. Most of them weigh around 70 pounds or more. Some of the smaller ones are lighter. 

That must make them difficult to move, especially after your injury. What happened? 

Five and a half years ago, I was working on a makeshift scaffold, and the board broke. I fell about 12 feet onto my left foot. It basically shattered my ankle and lower leg. I almost lost my foot, so I'm grateful I can walk. But since then, I've had six operations. 

How has that affected your ability to work? 

It's one of the reasons I can't lift heavy things anymore. My ankle is fused, so I don't have any mobility in it. That leg is also an inch and a half shorter. I use a cane now. I've had a lot of complications, including infections. I still have hardware in my leg supporting it. But I'm fortunate. 

You saved some of the hardware that was removed during your surgeries? 

Yeah, I asked! The surgeon said sure.

But when I went to pick it up, the person in charge asked, "Why do you want this?" I said I was thinking of making art with it, but I'm not sure if I will. 

Will you still ride a bicycle? 

I rode bikes, and I'm starting to again. Carefully.

You can see more of Glenn Booth's work on Instagram.

Tonight: Slima's art show

Tonight, you can check out the work of the one-and-only Joseph "Count Slima" Williams. All the details are in the photo of the flyer above... And here's a photo of Slima with one of his works.

Craft-o-holics back at it tonight

Local 269 Bar
269 E. Houston St. (@ Suffolk)
from 6 til 9pm (later if it's rockin' during the snowstorm!)
FREE/DONATIONS ACCEPTED
Daniella aka Our Lady of Perpetual PMS
Jenny Devildoll Gonzalez
Elisa Velasquez
Jessica Delfino
The Chi-Ciones

Craftermath debuts tonight for Skits N Tits

From the EV Grieve inbox...

Tonight marks the debut of Craftermath, a roving craft brigade.... The women who formed the group (Daniella, Jessica Delfino, Elisa Velasquez, Jenny Devildoll Gonzalez and The Chi-Ciones) are active in multi-disciplinary arts and they love odd, original art made from alternative materials like tampons, condoms and concrete ... and cheap, anti-corporate gift-shopping in the spirit of Reverend Billy and La Superette. They'll be selling their wares during the "Skits N Tits! One Year Anniversary Holiday Party" at the Bowery Poetry Club tonight...



For more on the Skits N Tits show tonight at 10 ($5 admission), go here...

Meanwhile, here's a sampling of the art created by the gals of Craftermath...

George Schneeman, 74

From the Times:

Painting, playing poker till dawn and boiling up pots of midnight pasta for friends in his apartment in an East Village tenement, Mr. Schneeman was sometimes described as New York’s last bohemian. That was not quite right. Seventy-four at his death, he was certainly younger than some of the artists who still animate what were once the city’s unfashionable neighborhoods

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Schneeman died this past Tuesday.

In a post on his blog, Michael Lally remembered Schneeman:

George created a life that was perfect for an artist. In the old days his day job was teaching English to immigrants. But he had a rent-control apartment on St. Marks Place, right in the heart of the action that made the 1960s the 1960s — and ditto for the following decades. Even now, the street reflects the times in ways no other part of the city does.

What happened when no one was looking

Airoots has an interesting essay on creativity and the creative process:

New York was creative when no one was looking. SoHo, The East Village, the Lower East side in Manhattan and more recently Williamsburg in Brooklyn were cultural hotbeds for as long as the city was bankrupt and they they were ignored. That’s when people like ABC No Rio and CBGB could squat buildings and Futura was spray painting subway tunnels, when artists that are now established, recognized and often no so inspired anymore where still crackheads, gays, punks, bums and squatters. There was nothing there to see. No hype and no romance. These much venerated places were at the periphery of a city on the verge of a breakdown.

Now that New York is universally recognized as a creative city all we see instead of artists are art directors, graphic designers, ad producers and so on. Established and wannabe communication professionals, commercial artists and other marketers come enmasse to such cities, where they know there is an industry that can use their know-how. Rather than breaking new grounds this so-called “creative class” recycles tired clichés and remixed proven formulas. New York is good at attracting people from elsewhere, but doesn’t breed much local talent anymore. Of course just like everywhere pockets of innovation remain. New York is big enough and its periphery is full of creative tension and driven people. But as a rule, creative work seems to happen where no one is looking.