Posts from the “Art” Category

Peter Beste: Houston Rap

Posted on November 1, 2013

Peter Beste. Klondike Kat
South Park, 2004

Peter Beste. Resident of Villa America
South Park, 2005

Peter Beste. “Tiger Wood of the Hood” passerby
Fourth Ward, 2005

Peter Beste. OG Wickett Crickett
Club Konnections, 2005

Peter Beste. K-Rino at MacGregor Park, 2006

I been fanning Peter Beste since when ? I can’t even remember how we met, but I remember the day we sat at a cafe on Prince Street, me paging through his luscious prints. Page after page after page of madness. I was home as my fingers swept across the protective plastic and my eyes bulged out my head and my heart did a little dance, as each turn of the page took me somewhere else.

And so it has come, as the inevitable does, Houston Rap is now a book from Sinecure and an exhibition at Boo Hooray Gallery, New York, opening November 7. I like it like this. Peter graciously agreed to an interview, and to let me share of his work. These are a few of my favorite things. Enjoy ~

From Norwegian Black Metal to Houston Rap, you are bringing North & South together again. I am struck by your taste in scenes. Tell me about what brought you down to Texas, to document the Hip Hop community ? When did you begin ? How did you get down ? How did the project develop into a book over the years you worked on it?

Peter Beste: Since I was a young kid in the early 90s, I have been strongly intrigued by Houston’s rap underworld. My interest began in 1991 with the vivid and visceral rhymes of the Geto Boys and Gangsta N-I-P. Many years later while studying photography in college, I realized that documenting both the history of Houston rap and the neighborhoods that spawned these characters would make a perfect documentary photography project.

A few years later in 2004, I reached out to K-Rino, Street Military and others, and told them about my idea. Some of these guys were a bit hesitant a first. Obviously a white guy in the hood with a camera raises many eyebrows. It took a little time to get past their skepticism and for me to gain their trust. I did this by publishing some photos here and there in international magazines and by getting to know many of these guys on a personal level over time, which eventually convinced most of them that my motives were pure. In 2005 I brought writer Lance Scott Walker into the project to conduct interviews so the book would have more information and context.

The Willie D quote is killing me: “People ain’t been educated on fightin’ back unless it’s some street shit, like fighting your neighbors or beating up… fighting your family members, killing your best friend. And nobody like… fightin’ the government, the city. “What you mean, fight the city? You mean like… Houston against me?” What was it like meeting Bun B, Lil’ Troy, K-Rino, Paul Wall, (he died before I started this), Pimp C, Street Military, and Big Hawk ? What kind of perspective do they bring to the rap game ?

What differentiates these guys from the average American rapper, and what makes me respect them is their underdog status and drive to succeed on their own terms. For decades, it was extremely hard to make it in the rap game if you weren’t from New York or LA. Because of this lack of support from the mainstream, Houston rappers developed their own sound, became their own CEOs, and in the process they cut out the major label middlemen, built their own business model, and made a lot of money.

You got some ill shots, everything from the New Black Panther Party, the strip clubs, the cats hanging on the street, the dudes in the car sippinn syrup, all the grimy glamour captured on film in luscious color… What did you find most exciting about Houston as a photographer ? What qualities of the people you met were you most attracted to ?

One thing that really drew me to this project that went beyond the rappers themselves was the opportunity to document many of the changing neighborhoods. Houston has very few zoning laws, so huge portions of the city are torn down and rebuilt on a regular basis, especially the “economically challenged” areas. As a photographer and someone who is extremely skeptical about the motivations behind gentrification, I was drawn into the unique personality of the neighborhoods of South Park, Third, Fourth and Fifth Wards, their colorful hand painted store signs, their lack of chain corporate stores and general independence from the “white man’s world.”

One example of this is Fourth Ward, which was a beautiful historic neighborhood in the shadow of downtown that was filled with pre-WWII row houses, mom & pop shops, and BBQ joints where families had lived for generations. In the years since we started this project, it has been renamed “Midtown” and is now filled with high-rise condos, trendy restaurants, and a whole new set of residents. One of our goals with this book was to document these historical sites, many of which have since been demolished with few objections and little fanfare by the city at large.

I love that this is a photo book. It’s got so much energy. What’s been the best part of this project ? What has surprised you the most ? What would you like to see this book do ? Where can people pick it up ?

One of the most rewarding parts of this project for me was to gain access to this talented and dynamic group of self-made individuals that I otherwise would never have connected with. This experience has given me some dear friends who I wouldn’t have met otherwise, and has made me grow as an individual in the process.

As you can see from the book, we didn’t dwell too much on the typical topics that the mainstream press endlessly promotes, like over-the-top materialism, the glorification of drug dealing and prison life, and the objectification of women. While these elements are part of the music and the book to a degree, we wanted to present a bigger picture to try to empower people and educate them through the words of people like K-Rino, Willie D, Brother Robert Muhammad, Justice Allah, Wickett Crickett, and others.

One of the most important topics covered by these community leaders was how “the powers that be” have deliberately targeted and taken advantage of most of these communities by creating an unfair playing field by filling their neighborhoods with with unhealthy food, liquor stores on every other corner, poor education, government drug dealing, dirty vaccines, and overall lousy city services. These controversial topics are discussed directly by those interviewed rather than the authors in an effort to enlighten folks and hopefully keep them out of the vicious cycles of addiction, poverty and the prison-industrial complex. That is my number one goal with this book.

Houston Rap will be available in quality books stores on November 25, and a pre-order is now available at sincecurebooks.com for the special edition which comes with a Fat Pat/DJ Screw 7″ record, a double DJ Screw 12″ (first time on vinyl) and several other goodies. This version will not be available in stores.

Peter Beste

Categories: Art, Books, Music, Photography

Upon My Lips

Posted on October 14, 2013

South Sudan

Tha smella weed smells like early mornings with the window open
and the sky turning violet blue lilac pink bliss,
like late lunches or brunches with ice coffee and cigarettes,
like fun afternoons with mixed drinks maybe mojitos made by hand
and dinner parties, dinners made in the kitchen
while bottles of wine go upside down into glass decanters
that pour through lips over and over again,
like cocktails after work (work) (what is work),
like sunsets never seen and stars blocked by the haze
of New York at night and it’s after midnight, afterhours,
after all we are alone in this.

it smells like ten o clock in the garden of nineteenth
and dinner is on the table, a spread for kings and queens and me
I don’t eat meat and still I am living for this is life and me,
I am in the presence of so many people I would never otherwise know
were not for that which seems random but maybe thas not so.

Ju know what I’m talkinn bout

I’m sitting in the garden on a chair of wrought iron
with a plate fulls goodness and the spliff’s cominn this way
and I’m sure to be drinking white wine, eternally frozen in this moment,
and I’m inhaling and I’m holding and exhaling and inhaling and I feel

this thing

and it takes over me so slowly like I’m swimming through a cloud
and wow I like this cause I’m not goinn anywhere everywhere at the same time
and I am lost then found then nothing at all, evaporated and all that remains is this,
a puff of smoke coming out my mouth and floating through the world
until it smells like nothing so much as heaven and I am here,

dirty and pure.

And I’m in the garden with the snake
—what up—
talkinn about munchies and I have to stop eating because you can’t have it all
because less is more and the laws of style always apply.
I’m thinking apple, something big and shiny and red and it gleams like my eyes,
like your blood upon my lips.

give me the apple & I will learn.

Weed smells like weed smells like did I just say that twice.
Yea I love to hear words as rhythms and tones and flows
until they stop making sense and that’s Talking Heads
and sometimes I stop listening to the words.

~Miss Rosen

Categories: Art, Poetry

18th Dynasty

Posted on October 3, 2013

Akhenaten & Nefertiti

Be candid in your whole life;
be content in all of its changes,
so that you make profit out of all occurrences;
so everything that happens to you be the source of praise.

.
—Akhenaten

Categories: Africa, Art

Nat Finkelstein: Where the Underground Met the Underworld

Posted on October 1, 2013

Edie Sedgwick & Nat Finkelstein © Stephen Shore

A cat like Nat Finkelstein had nine lives before he died in 2009. A photographer, journalist, world traveler, animal smuggler, gun runner, drug dealer, ex-convict, revolutionary, and only God (and Nat) knows what else. Born in 1933 in Coney Island, Finkelstein studied with Alexey Brodovich at Brooklyn College before joining Pix and Black Star agencies before leaving the United States in 1969 to escape the Feds.

Possessed with blessings and curses in equal measure, Nat was drawn to the underground—and the underworld. As his memoirs recollect, “I am an anarchist and believe in the overthrow of Capitalism. I am studied and trained. I know that revolutionary victories are achieved through preparation, organization, stealth, and subterfuge, followed by violence only when victory is assured. I also believe in Lenin’s dictum that the problem with the bourgeois revolutionary is that the bourgeois revolutionary always believes that the STAGE of revolution in which they are participating is The Revolution. This accounts for my antipathy to certain insurrectionists (Hoffman, Ginsberg, et al) of the late 60s and early 70s.”

Never a follower, Nat set his own path, with New York City as his base of operations. His iconoclastic disposition landed him at Andy Warhol’s Factory in 1964 while on assignment from Black Star. With unfettered access to the creation of art, film, and Superstars, his documentation of the earliest years of the Factory reveal a scene that has influenced New York’s downtown identity ever since. The glamour of Hollywood with the grittiness of New York conspired to create Pop Art as a way of life.

In his superb book, Andy Warhol: The Factory Years, 1964-1967, Nat recalled, “Andy Warhol’s greatest work of art was Andy Warhol. Other artists first make their art and then celebrity comes from it. Andy reversed this. For me the Factory was a place of sex and drugs and rock ‘n’ roll, for some of the others it was: from ferment comes art.

“Andy’s strategy was organized like an air-raid though radar-protected territory. He would drop these showers of silver foil out of the plane to deflect the radar. Behind this screen of smoke and mirrors, there was Andy at work. That was the real function of the entourage. It was a way to get the attention away from Andy, while he hid behind them, doing his number. The entourage was there to distract the attention, to titillate and amuse the public, while Andy was doing his very serious work. Andy was a very hard-working artist, a working man. He hid this very carefully, creating the myth that his products just kinda appeared. I’m probably one of the very few photographers who actually has pictures of Andy with his hands on a paintbrush and the paintbrush touching the painting. He didn’t want to get paint on his hands. So like any great artist, he had an atelier. He manipulated people to do things for him. It was a very studied casual act, ‘Hey, you do it.’ While he was working, he also had others work for him… Well, what else is a Factory? It was a brilliant scam.”

Older than everyone (except Warhol), Nat was a macho from Brooklyn, the straight guy in a sea of Superstars and Pop Art, with a camera, a sharp tongue, and no time for most men. He called the Velvet Underground, “The Psychopath’s Rolling Stones.” Lou Reed’s response? “The three worst people in the world are Nat Finkelstein and two speed dealers.”

At a time when drugs became part of America’s identity, Nat knew the score, always able to access the counterculture’s inner core. In his memoirs, he recounts, “The C.I.A utilized psychomemetics in the MK-ULTRA Project, a secret experiment in mind control, AKA ‘Brain Washing,’ often on unwitting subjects, several of whom would kill themselves. Time-Life publicized and popularized LSD in a stream of articles and pretty (although bogus) pictures. And then, in 1964, the mainstream media appointed an academic mercenary, ex-West Point, ex-Harvard Professor Timothy Leary as their ‘New World’ poster child. Leary—sponsored, financed and supported by a group of old wealth American industrialists—peddled ‘The Psychedelic Experience’ from a 4,000-acre estate in Millbrook, New York. Buttressed by the intellectual cachet of Aldous Huxley, plus the financial backing of the Mellon family and the CIA, Timothy Leary founded an organization called IFIF (International Foundation for Internal Freedom) and recruited a coterie of academics with a mystical bent, who forgot that after Brave New World came 1984.”

Nat was invited to Millbrook, and the meeting with Leary was less than successful. For even a drug dealer as successful as Finkelstein was leery of the relationship between the government, the media, the figureheads that brought LSD and amphetamines into American popular culture. He eventually retreated to his home in upset New York, where journalist Al Aronowitz (who introduced the Beatles to Bob Dylan in 1964) described him as, “Nat Finkelstein, Kokaine King of Woodstock.” Nat reigned supreme for a moment or two, and then, as is the case in the underworld, the cover blew.

In 1969, his lawyer called him to New York and revealed a document from the FBI that stated:

A NOTICE

WE THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
HEREBY EMPOWER YOU TO BRING BACK THE BODY
OF
NATHAN LOUIS FINKELSTEIN
CLASSIFIED ARMED AND DANGEROUS
NONSUICIDAL

In fear for his life, Nat Finkelstein left the United States. He traveled the Silk Route in the 1970s, appearing in the most unlikely places, eventually sentenced to four years in prison in France for possession of hashish. Nat’s memoirs revealed, “While in prison, I petitioned the United States government, the CIA, the FBI, and the Drug Enforcement Administration, under the Freedom of Information Act. Both the FBI and the CIA to this day have refused to release my records. However, the DEA records stated that in 1973, while I was still a fugitive, all charges against me were dismissed upon judicial review by a Judge Hector (Lopez or Gomez), with an extreme castigation of the Federal government for illegal actions against me. However, the government not only did not inform myself, my family, my in-laws, or my attorney that these charges were dropped, but forced me to live the life of a fugitive until 1978. Further, my agencies, my publishers, my family, et cetera, had been informed that if they were to publish any work done by me, prior to this dismissal, that they would be arrested for aiding and abetting a fugitive. My voice had been effectively silenced.”

When Nat returned to America in 1982, a free citizen, he inquired to Black Star agency and Life magazine about the whereabouts of his negatives. He notes in his memoirs, “Previously, Howard Chapnick of Black Star had told my ex-wife Jill that a woman purporting to be my wife, with a supposed letter from me, had come to the agency demanding that all my negatives be turned over to her. The only thing remaining of my work, aside from my Warhol series, were four or five prints which were made during various assignments.”

While many photographs remain lost, other come to light. In 1995, a collection of 170 color transparencies from The Factory was discovered to be misfiled under the wrong name at a London photo agency. Among the images are Warhol eating pizza, John Cale dozing off, Nico reading the paper, Edie Sedwick applying lipstick—the intimate moments Nat shared through the years.

His time at The Factory was but a chapter in one of those rare lives that crisscross the world at length, as photographs continue to emerge from the recesses of the earth. Photographs shot on August 8, 1965 at a civil rights protest in Washington D.C. came forth from the archives of Life magazine in 2004. As Nat recalled in an essay for The Blacklisted Journalist, there were members of, “The DuBois Society, CORE (Congress Of Racial Equality), SNCC (Student Non Violent Coordinating Committee). Fresh from voter registration drives in Mississippi, militants from Newark and Harlem were joining up with kids from Y.A.W.F. (Youth Against War and Fascism). White middle class kids and black militants coming together in an uneasy alliance. Together with the various Pacifist societies, as well as the followers of Martin Luther King, who previously had eschewed the anti war movement, they joined to form an Assembly of Unrepresented People, determined to exercise their constitutionally guaranteed right of free assembly in order to petition their government and declare the war in Vietnam to be a racist war.”

Then things got ugly. As Nat wrote, “The first people to be accosted and intimidated by the police were the Afro-Americans. During the march, an apparently late Nazi threw some of his own paint, and was also roughed up by the police. However, he was not arrested. At this point, the police forces were led and instructed by a non-uniformed, unidentified man, who apparently commanded the police to be rough. In fact, you can see this man in the pictures. Who he was, no one may ever know. As you can see from the photographs, the other photographers stayed at a short distance from this action, whereas I was fully involved, as you can see one picture, to the point of being punched in the stomach by a policeman during the melee, even though I was wearing official press credentials identifying me as a photographer from Life magazine. I did my job recording the information before me; the brutality, the obvious concentration on people of color, the fingernails crunching nerve endings, the faces squeezed, the glee of the oppressors, the courage of the kids.

“As you’ll notice from these photographs, there were no “long-haired freaks?: no Abbie Hoffman, no Jerry Rubin, no Allen Ginsberg. No pot, no gratuitous violence on the part of the protestors. This came later. It is my firm belief this was done by the so-called capitalist “Free Press.” The mainstream media that appointed theatrical clowns such as Abbie Hoffman, Jerry Rubin, Allen Ginsberg, and Timothy Leary, as representative of the antiwar movement. When actually, the antiwar movement consisted of the students and the ordinary American working class.”

Throughout his years on this earth, Nat was a champion for the underdog, defying the corrupt system through his art, words, and actions. His actions—while not always legal—held to another ethic; that integrity means holding firm in a raging storm. A typhoon like Nat Finkelstein may have left this earth, but his legacy is a life that challenged and ran counter to the hypocrisy of the world.

Originally published in
Le Journal de la Photographie
18 March 2011

Categories: 1960s, 1970s, 1980s, 1990s, Art, Photography

Some May Never Live, but the Crazy Never Die

Posted on September 19, 2013

.
Life has become immeasurably better
since I have been forced to stop taking it seriously.

Sex without love is as hollow and ridiculous as love without sex.

We are all alone, born alone, die alone, and — in spite of True Romance magazines —
we shall all someday look back on our lives and see that, in spite of our company,
we were alone the whole way. I do not say lonely — at least, not all the time —
but essentially, and finally, alone.
This is what makes your self-respect so important,
and I don’t see how you can respect yourself
if you must look in the hearts and minds of others for your happiness.

Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention
of arriving safely in a pretty and well preserved body,
but rather to skid in broadside in a cloud of smoke, thoroughly used up,
totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming “Wow! What a Ride!”

I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone,
but they’ve always worked for me.

~*~
Photographs by Dave Schubert
Quotes by Hunter S. Thompson

Categories: Art, Graffiti, Photography, Poetry

Level One

Posted on September 14, 2013

Miguel Angel Junquera

Knowledge is consciousness of reality.
Reality is the sum of the laws that govern nature
and the causes from which they flow.
Knowledge is not necessarily wisdom.
~Ancient Kemetic Proverb

Categories: Art, Photography, Poetry

Jane Dickson: The Last Days of Babylon

Posted on July 12, 2013

Throughout 70s and 80s the Times Square was a haven for XXX theaters, go-go girls, pimps, whore houses, rent boys, hustlers, thieves, dealers, and lowlifes on the make. Police and city authorities had declared the area as DMZ for crime and sex. The 1977 debut of Show World across 42nd Street from the Port Authority Bus Terminal was the high-water mark for Times Square’s Era of Errors. It had class.

Successive mayors attempted to purify Times Square without success, for the Mafia-owned establishments were protected by the First Amendment. Finally in 1995 Rudy Giuliani enacted adult zoning laws to end the magnificent wickedness and the following year every XXX theaters and porno shops closed on a rainy afternoon with the moving crews loading salacious merchandise into trucks, as the tearful affectionados of sleaze chanted on the sidewalk, “Fuck Rudy G.”

All along the Minnesota Strip pimps in fur coats hijacked teenage runaways straight off a bus from the Midwest and slick hustlers struck cowboy poses on the street corners, while dope-hungry muggers trailed unsuspecting hicks down dark streets. The action should have tapered off Christmas Eve, except the players on the Strip were dedicated to acting naughty and not the least bit nice. Tonight was no exception.

The glowing marquees and flashing neon billboards camouflaged the lurking danger of Times Square. On the sidewalk two young boys were rummaged through a fallen man’s pockets. No one interfered with the robbery and few people made eye contact, unless they loved trouble.

A brutish bouncer stopped a young blonde girl before the go-go lounge, then she produced an ID and danced a seductive Watusi as an audition. The doorman waved the teenager inside the Dollhouse, as Times Square swallowed another runaway faster than a starving shark.

The Dollhouse’s DJ segued from RING MY BELL to BROWN SUGAR and on stage the naked redhead cupped her breasts before a middle-aged man. The plaid-suited businessman was bald and overweight, but the $20 in his hand transformed him to Robert Redford, as he slipped the crisp bill beneath teenager’s G-string.

Times Square’s best pinball wizards gathered around the ‘KISS’, as the champ bumped the machine with his groin and they nodded each time the scoreboard tocked another free game. The champ was on a roll, then the arcade’s front door opened for a frigid draft and a deathly thin player commented, “Damn, one of them Minnesota girls has come in from the cold.”

The go-go girl hooked her arm inside the punk’s elbow. He wasn’t her type, but a woman on her own was a walking target on the Strip and even after 2am Times Square wasn’t ready to call it a night.

Men crowded into a theater featuring the hit XXX film BEHIND THE GREEN DOOR and a pimp strutted across Broadway with two teens in skimpy silks. After midnight on 42nd Street everyone was working overtime.

Artwork by Jane Dickson
Text by Peter Nolan Smith,
from THE LAST DAYS OF BABYLON

Categories: 1970s, 1980s, Art, Manhattan, Painting, Poetry

Bill Ray: Watts 1966

Posted on July 10, 2013

Photographs by Bill Ray

The August 1965 Watts Riots (or Watts Rebellion, depending on one’s perspective and politics), were among the bloodiest, costliest and — in the five decades since they erupted — most analyzed uprisings of the notoriously unsettled mid-1960s. Ostensibly sparked by an aggressive traffic stop of a black motorist by white cops — but, in fact, the combustive result of decades of institutional racism and profound neglect on the part of the city’s power brokers — the six-day upheaval resulted in 34 deaths, more than 3,400 arrests and tens of millions of dollars in property damage (back when a million bucks still meant something).

A year after the flames were put out and the smoke cleared from the southern California sky, LIFE revisited the scene of the devastation for a “special section” in its July 15, 1966, issue that the magazine called “Watts: Still Seething.” A good part of that special section featured a series of remarkable color photos made by Bill Ray on the streets of Watts: pictures of stylish, even dapper, young men making and hurling Molotov cocktails; of children at play in back yards and in rubble-strewn lots; of wary police and warier residents; of a community struggling to save itself from drugs, gangs, guns, idleness and decades of despair.

In that July 1966 issue, LIFE introduced Ray’s photographs, and Watts itself, in a tone that left no doubt that, whatever else might have happened in the months since the streets were on fire, the future of the district was hardly certain, and the rage that fueled the conflagration had not abated…

Read the Full Story at
LIFE

~ props to Jocks & Nerds for putting me on ~

Categories: 1960s, Art, Photography

Joe Maloney: New Jersey, c. 1979

Posted on July 2, 2013

Joe Maloney, “Blue Fence, Asbury Park, New Jersey,” 1980

Joe Maloney, Seaside Heights, New Jersey, 1980

Joe Maloney is that guy, the one who works on two levels at the same time. He takes what we know, what we see, our cultural vernacular, and translates it through the lens of the camera so that he speaks in all languages without ever saying a word. It is seen, it is felt, it is… understood.

And yet, there is more, always more.

“Maloney was a member of the stable of legendary photographers at LIGHT, the preeminent New York gallery of contemporary photography which included many notable photographers whose work in color helped revolutionize the acceptance of the medium. Maloney, along with Stephen Shore, Mitch Epstein, Carl Toth and others helped set the stage for today’s generation of photographers whose use of color is automatic and not necessarily a conscious choice.”

So begins the text for Maloney’s exhibition of previously-unseen work now showing at Rick Wester Fine Art, New York, through August 16.

The text continues, “At a time when polychromatic images were radical and their validity fought over, Maloney found the subject matter closest to him, suburbia, the receding rural landscape and the cultural oddities that America had created of them bathed in sunlight of enormous emotional range and conflict. Late, electric, raking sun cut swathes of scenery into patterns sewn together by streets and parks populated by pleasure seekers, poseurs, and other characters caught up in what Bruce Springsteen sang as ‘this runaway American Dream” Maloney’s exploration of the Jersey Shore and in particular Asbury Park is fueled by the urge to discover something immediate, concrete and candid within the artifice of the resort town culture.”

Through Maloney’s lens, we see a world we know, a world in which we once lived, as children and adults on summer break. His photographs are at once nostalgic, and something more; they embrace the enthnography of the Jersey Shore without trying too hard. There is no tongue planted in cheek, there is no pedestal to be placed upon or knocked down a peg. There is no self-consciousness, no self-referential narcissism. There is simply a time and a place and the people who lived it, just as they live it today.

For more information please check out
Joe Maloney :: Asbury Park & the Jersey Shore, c. 1979

Joe Maloney, Two Girls, Seaside Heights, New Jersey, 1980

Categories: 1970s, Art, Fashion, Photography

Grégoire Alessandrini: New York in the 90s

Posted on June 27, 2013

New York City in the 90s was a world unto itself. It kicked off the new decade by reaching its highest murder rate to date, while the twin crises of crack and AIDS had plunged the city into a desperate state. Yet, despite the darkness that loomed right before the dawn, New York was also a place of unbridled creativity that expressed itself all day and all night long. Graff had left the trains and was taking to the street. Nickel bags could be had in candy shops. Trains were $1, $1.15, $1.25. David Dinkins was Mayor, and Law & Order had just begun to air on TV.

New York in the 90s was a turning point in our changing world, a time and a place where the last hurrahs of the 70s and 80s gave way to the new, millennial Quality of Life. As Guiliani took power, things began to change, slowly but surely the heart of the City was bled away. But, before it was all but finally erased, Grégoire Alessandrini was on the scene with his camera, snapping away. I had the great pleasure of discovering his blog a couple of weeks back, and dropping him a line to reminisce in words and photographs. I am pleased to share Alessandrini’s work here, along with a link at the end for your viewing pleasure. It’s a treasure chest of memories…

Miss Rosen: Please talk about New York City in the 90s. What do you see as the ethos of the city at this time, perhaps as it was when you began this series in 1991, and how it transformed over the course of the decade. What marks this period as distinct in the City’s history for you, and what lessons did you learn, observing life through the camera lens?

Grégoire Alessandrini: I arrived in New York in the early 90s to become a film student. What I immediately loved in the city was this feeling of being in an American movie or a movie set. The city was just liked I had imagined it and somehow still very much like I had seen it in films. I’m thinking of Taxi driver, Marathon Man, Shaft, or even old Hollywood classics where you could see NY in the 40s or 50s.

You could tell that the city had probably changed a lot since the 60s and 70s but there was this kind of classic American dimension. I loved the old signs, the restaurants that looked like they didn’t change for decades, old dive bars, the old Mom & Pop stores on the Lower East Side and in Harlem, as well as neighborhoods with their own great identities like Times Square, the Meat Packing District, or the East Village—which was were you wanted to be at the time.

You also felt that the arty NY of the 60s and 70s was not that far back, not completely dead yet… It felt like the city I was discovering was still very much similar to the way it was when Warhol, Keith Haring, or Basquiat were walking in the Soho streets.

Soho was already cleaned up, trendy and expensive but you just had to walk a few blocks over and you were in Alphabet City or in the Lower East Side where most uptown residents were scared to go. Iggy Pop was still living in Alphabet City and many artists were still renting storefronts in the Lower East Side to use as studios and homes.

To me this is very typical of 90s New York. The “safe” neighborhoods could be next to the “bad” ones and it seemed perfectly normal. New Yorkers knew perfectly the invisible frontiers between these different worlds, they knew where they could go and when.

It is definitely true that the city was somehow decrepit, a bit dark and dangerous, but this was fascinating and you felt so much part of the city itself that danger was not really an issue. You would hear horrible stories all of the time but yet, you felt like exploring even more. Mayor Dinkins was in office at the time and the arrival of Giuliani was definitely a sign that change was coming…

Your work feels primarily like a series of cityscapes, of the city streets and buildings as the subject of your work, of New York as a kind of persona whose personality is known by those who pound her pavement and breathe her filthy air. Even your photographs of people feel very integrated into their context, as part of a greater energy that is New York itself.

What did you come to discover about the reality of our shared daily life, and how New York imparts this feeling in us? How do you think that the architecture and the city planning make transform our experience in public space.

What was most exciting in the 1990s was this feeling of adventure you had when hanging out in the city, day or night. When I starting taking photos, it was the graphic quality of the city that interested me. Walking in the Meat Packing District or Alphabet City was a great experience. And it felt the same in most neighborhoods.

Yes, it was dirty, smelly and scary at times but it was part of the city’s soul and you never thought that it needed to be cleaned up. It was the ideal setting for whatever you wanted your life or your New York experience to be. The state and look of the city also gave you an incredible feeling of freedom. You really felt that the city was yours and that you just needed to be here to be part of it and a real New Yorker.

At first, I was particularly interested in locations and what made them special more than people and you are right, at the beginning people were just part of the places I was photographing. Maybe because of how fascinating New York’s neighborhoods were to me and because of the incredible cinematic quality of some of these areas. Every area had its own mood, personality, its own vibe, and very specific residents.

New Yorkers are great in their eccentricity, originality, and energy… so of course I had to document this as well. My images of the Wigstock events in Tompkins Park show how crazy people could be… But being a movie freak and having studied film, I guess that my photos were primarily an attempt to capture these moods, these ambiances more than a sociological or classic instant photography approach.

What are the most notable changes to public life that you witnessed over the decade ? I realize this is a vast, sweeping question, given how much change came down under the Giulian regime. But if there was something that you noticed as that which was consistent, that which began to disappear, so to speak, as the City cleaned up and improved its “Quality of Life”, what might be those things that were lost in the name of progress ?

One of the landmarks of Giuliani’s era for me was the transformation of 42nd Street and the Times Square area. The zoning laws that made it impossible for sex related businesses to remain in the area.

It was actually very amusing to see porn shops presenting old Disney VHS tapes in their front window in order to stay in business…But the message was clear: “The party is over and all the sleaze has to go to make room for a family friendly environment.”

Giuliani’s time was also the time were drugs and drug dealers were heavily targeted. I really believe that it is also at the origins of the city’s big change. Crack was a very important factor of the city’s safety problems and bad reputation. It was really everywhere… in any neighborhood, in the streets, even sold in some stores, at any moment of day or night.

After the dealers of 7th Street between B and C or on 10th Street were chased out, Tompkins Park started to change (since it had also been raided by police during the 1980s to kick out the homeless camp that was installed in it), as well as Avenue A and then the whole Lower East Side…

The East Village population also started changing in the 90s… Hipsters were already moving in and I remember how in the late 90s. The area was becoming the new hangout of people obviously coming from uptown or the other boroughs to party and drink on Saturday night. Rents were already going up and it was becoming difficult to afford living in the neighborhood.

All the pioneers who had opened stores and friends who were living in Alphabet City, on Ludlow, or around Delancey had already started leaving the area in the late 90s. The transformation had already started and a new population was starting to move in.

What seems very sad to me with the recent evolution and transformation of the city is the fact that it is obviously irreversible. Everyone loves NY because it is constantly evolving. Every time you come back, there’s something new. A record shop can become a bagel place, an old Lower East Side Mom & Pop store, an art gallery, etc.

But what can an HSBC bank or a 7-Eleven become? And with the arrival of the real estate giants, all this big groups and corporations, the city seems to start looking the same everywhere. What will make the Lower East Side different from Midtown when Bowery will only be made of 50-stories glass buildings? New York is not just getting cleaned up… It is literally being rebuilt (or destroyed?). And it is known that you definitely can’t artificially create a city’s soul.

My heart was broken when the Palladium was destroyed to make room for NYU dorms with a very dull architecture. Nowadays, this kind of destruction seems to be a daily occurrence in Bloomberg’s Manhattan…

See More !

All photographs by
Grégoire Alessandrini

Categories: 1990s, Art, Manhattan, Photography

Shirt Kings: Pioneers of Hip Hop Fashion

Posted on June 5, 2013

Music, art, fashion, style. For a glorious moment these things all combined in an ethos of Do It Yourself. In New York City during the 1970s and 80s, the culture of Hip Hop first began to assert itself as DJs, MCs, b-boys and b-girls, created a way of rocking unlike anything the world had seen before. At the same time, graffiti had taken hold, a kind of public art so powerful and profound it became the most epic form of writing on the wall. But as the police began to crack down, buffing the trains and issuing more than desk appearance tickets to its practitioners, graffiti found new ways to express itself.

Airbrush was just the thing to allows for a smooth transition to a new kind of surface. Customized jackets, jeans, sweatshirts, and t-shirts, became the means to express yourself. It was the Shirt Kings who took this form to its highest heights, as Phade (Edwin Sacasa), Nike, and Kasheme (Rafael Avery) joined together to form the Shirt Kings, the first black clothing line straight from the streets. They went on to produce a style of clothing so iconic that it has become synonymous with the place and the time from which it spring, a zeitgeist in the making as no one could have ever predicted, not even the artists themselves.

Shirt Kings: Pioneers of Hip Hop Fashion by Edwin PHADE Sacasa and Alan KET (Dokument Press) is a vibrant photo album of their greatest hits. Phade began his graff career while a student at Art & Design, during the years when its student body included Daze, Doze Green, Lady Pink, Lil Seen, and Marc Jacobs. Outside of school, Phade was bombing the trains, living the life as it was meant to be lived.

As he recalls, “So what’s so special about the 80s? For me it was the graffiti cars swirling through New York City like canvases painted for the world to see. It was watching school comrades transform into the next generation of graffiti artists and joining the Rock Steady Crew. Getting calls to mentor and give out the wisdom I got from Kase 2 and Butch 2. Going to clubs like Harlem World on 116^th Street and Lenox Avenue, Broadway International, T-Connection in the Bronx, Disco Fever, P.A.L. 183^rd, Galaxy, Skate Fever, Skate-City in Brooklyn, Roseland USA and Empire Skating Rink in Brooklyn. Watching the Old Gold Crew from Brownsville, Brooklyn, fighting with their hand skills. Hearing the Supreme Team Show on the radio. Mr. Magic and Eddie Cheeba late night on the radio. Listening to hip hop with a hanger for an antenna to get some bootleg station.”

With an education like this, Phade’s evolution as an artist was natural. In 1984, he Sound 7 taught him how to airbrush, and once he acquired this skill, he began producing work, selling “Money Making New Yorker” t-shirts on the corner of 125 and Lenox Avenue. He went on to partner with Kasheme and Nike to form the Shirt Kings and launched their business in the Jamaica Coliseum in June 1986.

Jam Master Jay, a personal friend of Kasheme, came through to the opening with a crew of at least fifty. Back in the days, as hot as Hip Hop was, it was still of the people and it was grounded in the art form itself; it has not yet gone pop, had not yet hit the suburbs, or transformed into an international powerhouse. Back in the 80s, Hip Hop had an edge and it was a language spoken in the art, the dance, the music, and the lyrics.

As Alan Ket notes in his introduction, “The Shirt Kings style of airbrush design became a fashion statement made popular by the hottest rappers and deejays of the day. It seemed like overnight that their designs were everywhere from Just Ice’s record to the Audio Two’s popular album to the stage of the Latin Quarters where all the best emcees were performing weekly. As the Shirt Kings’ business took off their style was copied across the Northeast and they themselves expanded and covered Miami. Pretty soon they had deals with rappers and singers alike to provide the wardrobe designs for tours and music videos.”

Shirt Kings: Pioneers of Hip Hop Fashion takes us back to this era like nothing else ever could, the casual portraits and snapshots of the people, the art, the love of style, originality, and glamour itself. The book features portrait after portrait of some of the era’s greatest stars, along with personal quotes that remind us just how deep the Shirt Kings legacy goes. As Nas notes, “It wasn’t just rap celebrities, it was like street celebrities that had them on.” And that makes all the difference to the culture as it began to transform.

There is a joie de vivre that appears on every page, that same joy that came from Hip Hop as it made its way off the block and before the world stage. The Shirt Kings take us back to a time when Hip Hop was on the cusp, embodying the spirit of greatness itself, from one work of art to the next.

Tasja from South Side Jamaica, Queens, a proud customer wearing Dapper Dan and Shirt Kings, 1986, from ‘Shirt Kings: Pioneers of Hip Hop Fashion’ by Edwin PHADE Sacasa and Alan KET

Categories: 1980s, Art, Books, Bronx, Brooklyn, Fashion, Graffiti, Manhattan, Music, Photography