Sign #18,526 the East Village is going to shit: just saw Charlie Sheen and his security detail going into McSorley's.
— Alex Koppelman (@AlexKoppelman) January 16, 2013
also in morning neighborhood changes: Prune adding buffer to keep diners warm / corral brunch queuers (fyi, @evgrieve) twitter.com/seancarlson/st…
— Sean Carlson (@seancarlson) January 15, 2013
It would be cheaper and more useful just to blow up the building and leave a 30-foot crater.
NICK ZEDD & THE CINEMA OF TRANSGRESSION
January 15-19
9pm-late all nights
Glasshouse 246 Union Avenue, Brooklyn, NY 11211(G to Broadway, M to Lorimer, or L/G to Metropolitan-Lorimer)
Entrance is free (suggested donation of $10 at the bar)
Leading figure in the avant-garde cinema and NYC underground scene of the 1980’s and 1990’s; Iconic filmmaker, writer, and painter, Nick Zedd returns to New York City for a festival dedicated to his work, providing New Yorkers with the rare opportunity to meet and experience this body of work.
In addition to coining the term “Cinema of Transgression” and critically framing the work of his contemporaries (as creator of Underground Film Bulletin from 1984–90 and writer of the Cinema of Transgression manifesto), Zedd is known for his low-budget films, paintings, and mid-2000’s public television series with Reverend Jen, Electric Elf.
For this event Zedd curated a special program with screenings of most of his works since the 80’s and hosting works of some of his peers in the Cinema of Transgression movement including films by Nicholas Abrahams, Tessa Hughes-Freeland & Holly Adams, Angelique Bosio, Richard Kern, Richard Klemann, Casandra Stark and documentary films by Mary Jordan and Andreas Troeger.
I could have stayed in New York, but after awhile it became a self-imposed purgatory, going to court, fighting frivolous evictions and continually winning against a psychotic landlord, accepting the ugliness of gentrification and becoming more isolated as the city became a party to which I wasn’t invited. New people to collaborate with kept me there for decades; but they got fewer and farther between. Every scene disintegrated into petty backstabbing or was short-circuited by landlord harassment. A new crop of faux bohemians arrived as part of a sad, fucked-up Simulation. There were so many normal people around I became agoraphobic. They took over my building, paying exhorbitant rents, complaining about the sound of my feet.
Living in NY, your mind gets clouded by the struggle to survive with pointless tension; then you convince yourself you’ve accomplished something special by having one hour of peace a week that anywhere else would be a daily occurence. We put up with it for so long because we know that everywhere else in the country is even more boring. A false sense of self- righteousness infects New Yorkers after years of accepting miserable conditions, bad service and aesthetic ugliness in order to be part of a myth. The City is a good place for roaches and bedbugs but for humans it’s living death. What kind of a city would let the Mars Bar close?!
