Ansonia Windows

VANISHED

The Ansonia Pharmacy has recently moved from its long-time spot on the corner of 6th Avenue and 10th Street, where it has been since 1933.

Luckily, they only moved two doors up, in a space formerly occupied by The Bean coffee shop, which shuttered after a two-year stay in October. But not every part of the Ansonia moved with them.



One thing that made the Ansonia special, other than its venerable age, was its window gallery, a revolving display of mostly local art known as the Ansonia Pharmacy Windows.

I often enjoyed the art that appeared here--which included, among many others, the work of JVNY reader Sharon Florin.



Sadly, the Windows gallery won't be following the Ansonia. A note from the curator says goodbye to a 14-year-long tradition.



Why the Ansonia moved after so many years I don't know, but the "see you later" signage from the front window included a cryptic clue from Aristotle: "Everything that moves is moved by another."

*Everyday Chatter

To whoever is sticking these "Another gadget" stickers to iPad ads...


...you made my day.



Beloved Gino has been going strong since the most recent rumor of its demise, now they're saying they'll close at end of May. Say it isn't so! [Eater]

Dan Clowes talks about his misanthropic Wilson, at the Strand tonight. [Gothamist]

When bed bugs infest the affluent homes of Upper East Siders, some infested Lower East Siders might feel some schadenfreude. [NYM]

Flaneur around town with Romy. [P&W]

St. Vincent's Plywood

With the closure of St. Vincent's Hospital, a pall has settled over the abandoned building. The Emergency signs have been ripped from the facade, leaving twisted cords dangling like entrails.



The emergency room's ambulance loading ramp has been covered over with plywood. Candles and flowers set a funereal tone. "Closed" signs flank a saintly goodbye poster memorializing the hospital's birth and death: "1849-2010" with "A boundless thank you..."

And all around it, on the plywood, neighbors have written notes in black Magic Marker.



Some of the notes express gratitude for lives saved, and for lives lost with grace.





Others express rage--pointed at politicians: "Fuck you Bloomberg! May you break a leg on 7th Ave & 10th!"



And aimed at the New New York, the irrationally exuberant city of twisted priorities: "money for stadiums," and the shamefulness of being "sold out for luxury apartments!"



It reminded me of the last time the exterior of St. Vincent's became a community board for memorial notes, in the days after 9/11, when every spot on the hospital's wall was covered in Missing flyers, handwritten notes of despair, portraits of grief.

And through it all, a stricken sense of betrayal, shock, and disbelief.

This time, a 160-year-old hospital has vanished. Make way for the condos.

*Everyday Chatter

A tour bus guide asks you (and Pete Hamill) to help veto the anti-loudspeaker bill because "no machine--no piece of plastic in the ear--is going to talk of Emma Lazarus, read the entire poem; Jackie Robinson, J.P. Morgan, Boss Tweed, Bob Dylan, Frank Sinatra, Martin Scorsese, Edna St. Vincent Millay, or recite the intro to the Grand Central Station Radio Show." [WIC]

Fairey mural is used to turn Houston St. into Times Square with a double-decking, flickering, flashing TV ad space. [BB]

An actual used bookstore is actually moving onto Avenue A. [EVG]

The Two Boots empire will get a little smaller. [TLD]

Coney gets a vintage flume. [ATZ]

On the Fugs, poetry and punk in the EV. [P&W]

Clayton on The Wall

Last week, as I reported here, Shepard Fairey invited a trio of taggers to add their work to the sides of his mural on Houston Street. Lower East Side photographer Clayton Patterson was there, snapping pictures of taggers Cope, Indie, and Ewok. His photos are included here. I also asked him some questions about the Houston Wall and his famous graffiti door, which is under threat from the Bloomberg Graffiti Police.


All photos on this page courtesy of Clayton Patterson

You've been intimate with the Houston graffiti wall for some time. You actually painted a mural on it. Tell us about that.

Yes, Elsa Rensaa and I painted a mural on the wall in 1990. The imagery came from my black-and-white drawings. The message of the piece was political and related to the LES struggle for Truth and Justice. All the writing on the image was taken from the inscriptions carved into the walls of the downtown courthouses.



What's your opinion of the Houston wall's shift from open canvas for street artists to a showcase for Deitch Projects?

The wall like everything else has been gentrified. In this day and age there are very few free public spaces for artists to work on. The other day I walked through SoHo and was quite surprised to see that there was almost no graffiti. And even more surprising was that there was almost no street art, a few paste-up pieces, and very few stickers.



What would you like to see on the Houston wall in the future?

More NYC artists. I want to see support for the locals--would like to see more outsiders and outlaws. Not just corporate art, or commercial art that already has a strong market base. It is like waiting to see if Banksy will do the wall.

It is my guess that since Deitch has now brought enough attention to himself, that he now has the MOCA director's job, the wall will once again go dormant.

I know for Tony Goldman the wall is just a business deal. Around 10 years ago Anthony Zito, Steve Ellis, Marco, and I approached Goldman about doing the wall. He wanted big money, so we suggested we could make something in support of a non-profit organization, like the LES Girls Club--he hemmed and hawed and hemmed and hawed until it became obvious that he was only playing us. Pay or get out.



I understand Bloomberg is coming for your famous graffiti door?

Bloomberg has already come for my Front Door. His message was loud and clear: Clean it or the city will, and if you don’t, I get a $300.00 fine!

Elsa stopped the city workers from trying to clean our door. It was at night, and Elsa heard this loud smashing. Her first thought was: Someone is attempting to break in. She ran to the window to investigate. Turns out it was not robbers, but a crew of city graffiti cleanup workers using some kind of power chisel to hammer off the stickers on our door. Stupid as this sounds, the tool left a trail of little chatter marks, and small dents where they chiseled away the paint and the stickers.

In the 'hood, my front door is famous. I have photographed in front of that door for over 25 years. Documented kids growing up in front of that door. There is a book of photographs out called the Front Door Book, published by OHWOW. All the photos were taken in front of my graffiti door.

The graffiti on the door is as important as the photos. In the old days when drugs controlled the streets in our community the graffiti was almost only neighborhood tags. You had to be familiar with those working the streets in order to hang out on the block and to leave your mark. Today the block is not watched in the same way--it is possible for people from outside the community to come into the neighborhood and tag or to do large pieces.

So the tags on my front door, in the old photographs, are another history of this community.



More Wall Stuff:
Billy on The Wall
Houston Wall
Fairey Gets Targeted

*Everyday Chatter

I know the feeling..."Scenes from the Post-Print Apocalypse." [NYT]

The "Hell, No" show pokes the New Museum: "a gleaming confection with the retail allure of a shiny stack of hat boxes." [NYS]

"The Bowery becomes a nexus of shattered dreams" in Dirty Old Town, starring Billy Leroy.

Bill Cunningham says goodbye to decades of the wonderful, bohemian life above Carnegie Hall. [via Stupefaction]

Turning an Eames chair into a seat of vanishing NYC storefronts. [JKMP]

Staring into the Q-train yellow face of the Second Avenue Subway cutter. [IL]

"Dear Tweety Tweets," move over! [EVG]

Find a New City

This weekend, Patti Smith and Jonathan Lethem had a conversation in the Great Hall of the Cooper Union. Lethem asked the questions, Smith answered. They talked about books and music, mostly. Patti recalled working at the Argosy bookshop in 1967, which must have been before her stint at Scribner's, and about how she falsified her credentials as a book restorer just to get that job, because she loved books so much.



She talked about the wonders of paper--about books made of paper, some with velvet covers and gravures, and about her plans to write more books like Just Kids, about her early days in New York City, a time rich with memory.

She told Jonathan Lethem that she liked his sneakers. He said, quickly, apologetically, "They're not vintage," because, probably, when you're talking to Patti Smith, you want to be cool in the right ways. But Patti didn't care about vintage or not vintage. She said, "Doesn't matter, they're classic."



When she was done answering Lethem's questions, she picked up her guitar and sang a song about William Blake. Then she answered questions from the audience. One woman asked if it was still possible for a young artist to come to New York City and do what young artists did when Smith was starting out.



Patti recalled coming to New York without money, when it was "down and out," and you could get a cheap apartment and "build a whole community of transvestites," artists or writers, or whatever.

Today, she said, "New York has closed itself off to the young and the struggling. But there’s always other cities. I don’t know—Detroit, Poughkeepsie, Newark. You have to find the new place because New York City has been taken away from you. It’s still a great city, but it has closed itself off from the poor and creative burgeoning society. So my advice is: Find a new city."

You can listen to the whole conversation here.