Letters from Gowanusland

I've been waiting to get some decent photos to show off my new studio space. Here it is. It's not much, but the neighborhood is lovely. It's in Gowanus, Brooklyn, by the way, not Red Hook. I was set straight by Stephanie on this point. I argued that New York neighborhoods are notoriously fluid, but, I have to admit, not so much when the border is a canal. The canal, incidentally, is one of the most horrifically nasty bodies of water I've ever seen, and I grew up two blocks from the Kill Van Kull.

I ended up in the studio entirely by accident. Or, maybe, it was one of those things that happens when you make contacts and contacts with contacts and so forth, and eventually meet someone who can help. In this case I was at Dorian's for drawing when Reilly started talking about this studio he'd been trying to put together. Because he's young and idealistic, he signed the lease and put down the deposit and first month's rent and last month's rent and who knows what all else New York landlords are extorting these days after he'd lined up six artists willing to split the rent. Then four of them split. Anyone over thirty could've told him that would happen, but as I said, he's young. So he was looking for four more artists to fill out the space and when I asked him the price he nailed my limit exactly: $150 per month.

I'd been noodling around, sort of half-assedly hoping to stumble into a place that cheap. I figured, since I live in north Jersey, and the area is simply chockablock with abandoned and half-abandoned former industrial buildings and shopping centers, I'd find something pretty easily. But every inquiry I ever made was rebuffed -- and with rancor and vigor and several other archaic nouns denoting energetic nastiness. Just what you'd expect from Jersey, actually. Imagine The Sopranos only stupider, less entertaining, and more corrupt. I can't understand it, but apparently real estate is so in demand around here, landlords would rather leave a building empty -- for years and years -- than rent it out below market value.

Well, no one in New York wants to make a studio visit to New Jersey anyhow, because public transportation out here sucks and the traffic getting here is ridiculous. Not to mention the tolls, which are astronomical. By the time a gallerist has made it to Jersey, they need to sell out at least one entire show to pay for the trip. A studio in Brooklyn has far more cachet than one in Jersey, and a studio in Gowanus -- an unrepentantly lousy area, unlike upscale Williamsburg or DUMBO -- gives an artist more cred than a tag on the el.

So I'm moved in. The building is great because there are a number of other studios filled with working artists -- comic books guys, mostly, and graphic designers and illustrators -- which means I can wander out of my studio every so often and annoy other people. Lowe's is right down the street for all your hardware needs and the subway runs conveniently directly overhead.

Since I've moved in I've done three paintings and started three more -- and that's only physically being in the studio for two days. I don't know how I'll be able to keep up with supplies.

Curiously I haven't done anything figurative, though. I've been working more on those squiggles -- Joe, Stephanie's boyfriend, called them waves -- and trying different things with them. The first three here are finished; the last two are in progress. Well, maybe 5 is done. I'm not sure on that one.