Williamsburg, Brooklyn: where even the humans become works of art.
fuck off, hipster
white street, bushwick
i found this stapled to a construction wall at North 5th and Bedford in Williamsburg and just had to have it.
so I ripped it down and took it with me.
Shortly afterward, with this in my hand, I went into Buffalo Exchange … maybe this is why I was treated so poorly by the staff there?
If you know Buffalo Exchange, you’ll understand why.
And this was on Vandervoort in Bushwick. Apropos.
also in Bushwick. Malcolm X is a hipster. No no… conk.
Eight & a Half is new band is made up of members of Broken Social Scene and the Stills. Toronto is redefining the culture of cool.
Laidback, chillin’ choon!
found this little wheatpaste dude at bloor west and concord.
cycling hipster with the kryptonite lock in his belt loop, holding up a peace sign.
a couple summers ago, i was house-sitting on college street for a former flame while he was in vancouver. it was a hot august, so i rode my bike everywhere, and it was glorious. i couldn’t count how many people on college rode their bikes with their kryptonite lock in their back pockets of their jeans shorts. it’s kind of a hipster rule of thumb. i love bike riding so much, i can’t wait until the weather gets somewhat decent so i can hope back on Auntie Elsie (that’s my bike’s name….my previous bike was named Bea Arthur…. old lady bike names FTW).
if you take a good look at the bike this wheatpaste dude is riding, it’s a city bike with no gears. while these bikes are pleasing to the eye, and lightweight, they are SHIT BIKES. i need gears! my bike is a 21 speed with shocks and err-thang. i need to go bombing uphill. fast fast fast! no-gear rustbucket hipster bikes are uber stylish but shit-rides.
can’t wait to get cycling! ACK!
that porpoise is like so 5 minutes ago.
Roebling and North 9th avenue in williamsburg.
HIPSTERS COME HOME!
my first night back in New York Shitty, and before i even have time to unpack, change clothes, or scream at the taxi cabs “heyyyy! i’m walkin’ here!” i get invited to a house party in williamsburg, brooklyn. my reputation precedes me!
many of you know that williamsburg is basically where hipsters go to die, and you would be correct. it’s like a breeding ground for nihilistic but stylish pretentious hosers who love their pabst blue ribbon, ironic ugly sweaters, and dub-step remixes of Foster The People.
I FELT RIGHT AT HOME.
my british husband (even though he doesn’t know it yet) Pete tweeted me last night, “Williamsburg: easily my favourite place ever. Like never-never land, but with fewer grown ups and more sailor tats.” Again, harsh but oh-so accurate.
But I think my favourite hipster attribute has to be the rapist glasses.
of course, i would never dream of saying that to a hipsters face. but i would, instead, rip those suckers right offa them and try them on myself.
ME! A SEXUAL PREDATOR! ME!!!!!
Exhibit A was taken off of a guy who looked like he had eczema and a problem with prema-ejac. i made a judgement call.
Exhibit B was taken off of the MOST DAPPER HIPSTER EVER whom i’ll introduce you to in a sec. Black, squarish rims with a dash of disdain for popular masculinity.
Exhibit C is probably the best example of Rapist glasses, but I couldn’t get a good angle on them, ’cause this pleasant but all-together smashed dude from Belarus kept clinging to me. Aw. Bless.
Exhibit D for Damn that shit’s nasty as fuck
Exhibit E are just basic reading glasses but I took them off a white guy with JewFro and freckles whom I bet just lovvvves Led Zepplin and reading Aldous Huxley.
That’s my friend Jared on the left. He’s the one who invited me to the party. Interesting story on how we met. Basically, when I was in Brooklyn this past Spring, I made a Couchsurfing request at this girl Miranda’s house. She said yes, but later had to decline because her plans changed and she couldn’t host me anymore. Months later, I get a Facebook message from Jared. He tells me that he lives in Miranda’s house, that he was there when she got my Couchsurfing request and saw my message, and thought that I seemed wicked cool (the man has taste). Anyway, he was bummed when I couldn’t stay there, so he messaged me, ‘Let’s be friends!” and I was all, “Done.” Then when I decided to return to Brooklyn for December, I messaged him and said, “Let’s hang!” and he was all, “Done.”
Thank you webernet.
That’s Ryan, he’s a concert photographer for Spin Magazine…. As you do. Blame Williamsburg!
Here is the Most Dapper Hipster Ever I mentioned above. Dude is killing me with awesome! The glasses, the horizontal striped tie, the sweet body forming suit. You shoulda seen his shoes. Ironic wing tips with FIRE ENGINE RED SHOE LACES.
and let’s not forget the huge ass bottle of whiskey he’s chugging all to his self.
Okay, I promised you New York graffiti and street art, and that is what I shall photograph next. SWEARSIES.
Off to go find some!! Enjoy the day, guys, they’re now getting longer, so there’s more sunlight to illuminate the hipsters upon your path.
click the images to hear some tunnnnnes.
the above band has been a personal fav for almost two years. must see them live soon!
i blogged about this song last week, it’s just too amazing not to mention twice.
how often have i blogged about this? A LOT.
i blogged about this video years ago, it’s still pretty epic.
it’s overplayed, brandon flowers is a douche, and cougars dance to this at dive bars in skirts so short you can see their tampon string. which i guess makes it okay again.
yeah yeah, you get the idea.
…. but clearly you wish you were. found it on a dumpster in an alley near a catholic school.
did i ever tell you of the time i actually found a real Space Invader piece in Alphabet City in NYC?
WELL LET ME REMIND YOU.
and as i’ve previously announced, i’m going back to NYC in TWO FREAKIN’ DAYS!! I’ll be there from the 22nd to the 29th, all by myself, just running in and out of alleys, photographing art and hanging out with hipster douchebags on DeKalb Avenue.
my NYClusterfuck extravaganza, which i began this past Spring, can now continue!
i may just get lost in the alleys of Bushwick and never return. if you never see me again, remember me as a lover, not a fighter.
My current playlist on constant rotation:
#1 AKA What A Life by Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds
#2 Helena Beat by Foster The People
#3 Come Closer by Miles Kane
#4 Slow Hands by Interpol
#5 The Suburbs by Mr Little Jeans (cover of Arcade Fire)
#6 Video Games by Lana Del Rey
#7 Think You Can Wait by The National
#8 Niagara by OhBijou
when in my Sitto’s car, i like to pump up my music as extreme as my ears can stand. i sing as if i were attempting to burn out my tonsils. it’s what keeps me young. stopped at red lights, pedestrians and drivers a lane over stare beyond belief. i beat the steering wheel, as if it were a sinner. in gentler climates, loud music and open windows is expected. when autumn roughly tumbles down, such behaviour can easily be mistaken for madness.
but i was never sane.
cyclists give me the thumbs up. drivers are not accustomed to blast this kind of music, they say. absent is the low bass, the thug rhymes, and the gino beats.
i sing as if no one is watching, but am morose if they do not.
i drove behind this car a few weeks ago. they forgot the MFAO.
kids these days, FFS. SMH. smiley face. RTFM. IMHO.
my boy Cock McBrocklyn (ahem, excuse me, i mean Brock McLaughlin) sent me this photo of the greatest halloween costume in this city, hands down, kick your ass. Rob “Fucking” Ford v Hipsters. i wish i had thought of this first.
aw, what a bromance.
yes, hipsters, Rob Ford may look like a creep, but when he holds you in his arms, you’ll feel safe.
he’s just a mayor, standing in front of the city council, asking them to love him.
that was the name of the first short story i ever had professionally published. I blogged about it when it happened way back in 2005… that paycheque paid rent that month. i took the above photo in october of last year during my war child challenge campaign, and this was an outtake that was never published, so i thought i’d have fun with it. the blending of two creative projects.
even though i miss house-sitting, i won’t miss that building being the only one in sight for miles in every direction.
found in the alleys behind the drake hotel. i thought Spud already was the mayor.
the background of Ford’s stupid monkey face says “Spud 4 Mayor” over and over.
I love Spud’s work, he’s one of the greatest Toronto street artists who eludes everyone. Gregory Allan Elliot told me that some of the dudes in Kensington market know who he is and can put me in contact. His work is everywhere and has been around for years. His Ford-sperms and Ford-faces made it into my The Grid article that was published a few weeks ago. And he always seems to score the greatest walls and locations. The rooftops of Queen and Spadina have all been Spud bombed. One says “SpudR” not sure what the R is for, but hey, we know it’s him because of his style and imagery.
here are some old Spud photos that i’ve taken but have never published. this one above was found in the Ossington-Humbert alleyway (I spend most of my days in alleys, seriously). He took over an entire garage front, and even copyrighted it in the bottom right corner.
this is just a spudbomb sticker, but i love it.
when i grow up, i’m going to bovine university.
this is a moo point.
you know, it’s like a cow’s opinion. it doesn’t matter. it’s moo.
i published a photo of this exact same piece a few months ago, but it was someone else’s photo. thought i’d go back and take my own, for copyright/ownership purposes.
i have another photograph of a piece that was put up in graffiti alley, it’s the exact same rob ford face, but instead of “piss here” it just says “ass.”
hhaha! this is in the alley behind dovercourt and queen. the “work in progress” has always been there, but like the new writing to the left indicates, it has been a work in progress for EONS. C’mon son. GET IT TOGETHER.
do you see what i see?
so fucking cool. this was on abell street behind the wreckage of construction.
i love the unused/abandoned storefronts along queen west.
speaking of Gregory Allan Elliot….see what he did here? He took a black marker to the movie poster for Colombiana… so fucking clever, sir. Yes, I know it’s him because the gun is now shooting his “heart/love” symbol.
the night, with garin, outside the drake hotel, where the woman with the typewriter sat on the sidewalk and tapped poems for passers-by. it sounded like morse-code.
headlines the day after Canada went into a state of mourning…
i was walking along Bloor and this guy was just sitting there holding this while fondling his smartphone.
fanks for letting me take your picture, guy.
it’s the fat-lip twins!
my wifey is so nom-nom-nom.
as i spoke about before, Ford Canada is lending me a car for this Labour Day long weekend (Ford Canada recognizes exceptional awesomeness, clearly) , so I’m going on a roadtrip! I’m going back to the place of my birth, Montreal, to hang with my gay boyfriend, my old school mates, to practice mon français (maudit enfant chienne), and wander about to see what’s cool around the plateau since i left at the age of 12.
frankly, after all that i’ve been going through lately, this opportunity couldn’t have come at a better time.
hopefully i’ll find some amazing Montreal graffiti, and see some great Montreal theatre!
if you have any graffiti/theatre leads, please send them my way. or if you’re throwing a hipster douchebag party event clusterfuck that kyboshes other attempts, let a sistah know.
bloggin will resume next week.
à la prochaine, mes ti-choufleurs!
TIFF is coming up, and I’ve been invited to so many advanced press screenings that I’m debating whether or not I should throw myself face-first into the fest like I did last year. Last year was amazing, I reviewed the festival for FOUR different media outlets, including the CBC. I met some amazing people in the industry, attended some hoity-toity parties, saw a record-breaking 35 films (including The King’s Speech, where I knew from the press screening that it would win the Oscar), and feasted on the visual stimuli flashing through a darkened cinema. Static flicking off the beams of light.
So why the debate?
Mama’s got a book to write.
* * *
sneak with me as i disappear into the back alleys. keep your feet pedaling, the bike leaves no footprint. the night will swallow us like a python, opening its mouth, and then holding its breath.
all the kids in the ghetto call me Don chris estima.
gauzed in red, the colour tearing through my flesh, this painted city belongs to me.
we discover art.
and you will know i was once here
by the looks thrown over my shoulder.
Rob introduced me to Poser, who does these smooth rabbits all over town. Now you won’t be able to walk around without noticing them. I love how the rabbits are holding spraypaint cans whilst almost saying “Eyyyyhhhh, sup gurrrrrl.”
that single BlogTO tweet sent my blog traffic batshit crazy through the roof, kiboshing all previous records. fanks hombres!
hello new munchkin readers! enjoy my neurotic blogjaculation.
relax, i’m hilarious.
now shut up and show me your tweets.
rob takes a decent graffiti snap.
rob and i snuck around the back alleys for about four hours, well past midnight. darkness creeping in on secrets.
first obvious target: graffiti alley, then up the ossington alleys, then through kensington market. i think our next destination should be the rail path which runs through the junction. i know there’s some amazing shit there, my camera is gagging for it.
does anybody else think this looks like a concentration camp?
zejko? that sounds yugoslavian . . . maybe serbian or croatian or bosnian. i wonder who this guy is.
political figure? martyr? writer? philosopher? just some dude?
andy warhol just rolled his eyes.
ha, i love this little gas-can fucker.
oh hello mr elliott. we meet again.
i’m surprised to still see some of the Andrew posters around, they’re quite old (in terms of street art shelf life), so this was a rare find. however, considering the way Andrew died, tagging the poster with a mouthful of blood and a speech bubble with “liberal lies” is rather upsetting.
what kind of tagger writes “liberal lies” anyway? i’m sorry, is Andrew’s tragic story offensive to your conservative graffiti ethos? fuck off with that shit.
my last post detailed some Tokyo tags, and now we know who he is. Rob found him on facebook, so we have a face with a (fake)name now. Sup guy.
i also recently blogged about the posters and stickers that have gone up around queen and spadina, commemorating the kettling and brutality that occurred last year during the G20 summit. the stickers say “our civil rights were lost here.” the posters show sombre photos of the attrocities done against peaceful toronto civilians.
the “tokyo” is almost gone. i wish rob ford was rubbing away too.
this headless frowner reminds me of our unhappy hipster run-in while rob and i took a break at 416 Snack Bar. some loud hipsters with massive, square, black-framed specs, and nostrils brimming with white coke, shouted at me from across the table to smile.
i turned into them and gave a fatal grimmace.
coked-up hipster goes, “that’s the worst smile i’ve ever seen. why won’t you smile for me?”
to which i leaned in and coo’d, “I’m not going to be your monkey.”
and at that, his balls crawled back up inside his body.
from what i can gather here, someone stenciled “supreme” then someone with a spray can tagged it into “supremely stupid” but they spelled “stupid” wrong…. studpid? stucpid?
this freaked the shit out of me, because in the darkness of the alley, you couldn’t see all those details. you could see a bit of the face. my flash revealed the bleeding ghost.
some daytime shots from the back alleys in parkdale.
is that elvis presley or chris cornell?
when horses are this lame, they shoot ’em.
hi c-saw, i will respond to that question with this.
good call, speaking of bikes …
i’ve got more THE GOOD BIKE finds!
a basket filled with a potted plant, untouched!
AND it’s bolted to the ground. you ain’t stealing this, fuckfaces.
the photo of me at the top of this post is of me taking this photo….
wow, that’s so meta.
and the moral is: the easiest way to make guys lose their shit is to have yours together