Staten Island Tugboats

Two parties depart on a trip. One to the west and one to the east. We begin a long day of biking to the southern tip of Staten Island. Passing homes of the rich and shameless. Met a mechanic named Mark in Bushwick who told me he did the pipes at Ol-Dirty's house on Staten. Said O.D.B. walked in and threw a bag of coke down on the table and said, "Are you the plumber? Have a tip?"

Biking through Green Point and over the Manhattan bridge for a change. Chinatown merchants sell rambutans to tourists jaywalking just to fit in. Skimming the Hudson on a ferry with South American blue seats etched with names of lovers and french kissing teenagers. Sea gulls ride turbulent bursts and driftwood sink in the wavelengths of the wave lengths. We empty tallcans hugged by tidy brown bags before departing and pet a drug-dog named Teddy. He sniffs and sniffs and blows nobodies house down.

Three hours later we empty more tall cans still tidy in neatly folded brown bags. American flagged murals line every block while the people of Staten seem to love well defined biceps. We bike endlessly, around the east while our other party skims the west to meet at a graveyard with gravity folded tombstones reading dates two centuries prior.

We discover a secret passage behind the graves of larger maritime graves, each delicately tucked in by muddy blankets and mosquito wings. Our dirty feet levitate then sink into the lowtide swamp surface. Levitate then sink repeatedly. We storm the ships. Walk planks of found wood. Place secret notes on sinking steel. And the sun grows pink on the silhouettes of Newark's rigid industry. Two parties depart to the city. One goes to the west and one to the east.

Catching Up

It's been so long since I posted and there's a lot of news. Just back from travelling a bit. First up in Montreal where we sampled the poutine, biked around the island, and climbed trees to the sounds of Picnik Electronik. We then turned a 6-hr car drive into an 11-hr drive home as we took in the wonders of Albany, the time ripened armpit of New York.

Even more recently I returned from 6-days in St. Paul, Minneapolis' sister city. The first few days consisted mainly of upgrading my sense of pop-culture facilitated by on-demand True Blood episodes and the new film Bruno - followed by visits to the nearby layup and wizard staffing meetings at John Grider's bbq party. In the end Broken Crow and I created a few new handmade posters that will be up for sale shortly. So check back...
I awoke this morning to good ol' Brooklyn and Tae and biked across to check out the new Os Gemeos mural over the Keith Haring on Houston. At first no one was there just us and the amazing mural. Within 10 minutes it was like a walk through the Graffiti Hall of Fame. The twins showed up and began to paint - finishing a few outlines with sputtering precision. Next Cope2 rolled up and my jaw kind of dropped thinking of the two varying artists signifiicance in the world of graffiti. Before I could recover a car service dropped off Steve Powers and he walked up to the wall rocking some Prada glasses and electified high top haircut. Seeing all of them together was really something and all I could think was, 'i fuckin' love living in New York City!'

Artists Unite Show

'My Piece is Still Running' was recently selected for the Artists Unite show in Washington Heights/Inwood. The show was projected on a large building at the intersection of Nagle Avenue, and Thayer and Dyckman Streets and was visible from the nearby 1 line. The exhibition featured still and video works by local and international artists and was curated by Anthony Archibald and Peter Ferko.