Booklyn

I recently made the acquaintance of a very nice woman named Rebecca who works for this organization. I have long wanted to learn what Booklyn was about. After voicing my interest via email she was more than happy to indulge my curiosity by taking me on a little tour. My conclusion: this place is pretty damned neat. Follows are some highlights.

Booklyn is an artist-run non-profit organization. Established in 1999, it facilities are open to the public Tuesday evenings from 6:30 – 8:30 p.m. The first Tuesday of each month is dedicated to “Open Salon Night”. At these events they feature artist’s books from their rather extensive and quirky collection (like this frightfully clever pop-up book entitled The Slapdown). In addition you, the public, are encouraged to bring in your own artists books to share with fellow Booklyn goers.

Following Tuesdays are dedicated to workshops where you can get hands on experience with the various aspects of bookmaking. Those engaged in their own bookmaking projects can also use their guillotine (above at left) and their bookbinding equipment free of charge.

Among Booklyn’s numerous projects (which include not only bookmaking, but also letter press and printmaking) is the Iraq Veterans Against the War (IVAW) People’s Republic of Paper. Partnering with former servicemen (and presumably, women) uniforms are shredded into pulp which in turn is turned into paper. Onto this paper each troop’s portrait is then screen printed. One of these portraits can be seen above to the far left.

They also have a number of really cool books for sale. Scream at the Librarian (above) was by far my favorite:

An instant cult classic, Scream at the Librarian sucks you into the flop house grime of downtown Los Angeles at a time when it was abandoned by all but the terminally desperate. The Screamer, Mr. Brain Damage, The Devil . . . these are just a few of the unforgettable characters that people Rane’s real-life accounts from deep within the stacks of a library which had become a refuge for squatters, drug addicts, and the mentally deranged.

Be advised that you need not be a librarian to appreciate this book. Anyone who has the pleasure of working with the general public will be able to relate. I for one found “The Racist” and “Tourette’s Syndrome” of particular interest. I had honestly not given the matter any thought, but I now understand that a chap with Tourette’s Syndrome may very well be a librarian’s worst nightmare. Why not swing by Booklyn tonight, purchase a copy and read for yourself?

Booklyn
37 Greenpoint Avenue, Floor 4
Brooklyn, New York 11222
(718) 383-9621
staff (at) booklyn (dot) org

Oh yeah, they also have nifty t-shirts for sale.

Miss Heather

Greenpoint Photo du Jour: When It Rains We Pour

One of these days I am finally going to get around to building a time capsule. The contents of this vessel will be things quintessentially Greenpoint. The purpose of this exercise is to preserve the glory that is the Garden Spot of the Universe before it is rendered utterly soulless (like its more popular sister to the south).

That said, it simply doesn’t get much more Greenpoint than a busted up umbrella filled with empty wine bottles and jarred herring propped against a parking meter on a late Sunday morning. Yes sir, this must have been one hell of a party.

Miss Heather

Crosstown Local Cavalcade Volume VIII: Penance

Before what we know as prisons came into being the United States penal system was comprised of penitentiaries. The prevailing principle underlying the concept of the penitentiary was to place convicts in an environment that was conducive to contemplation. Being reasonable folks (and the operative here is reason), these ne’er do wells would eventually understand the error of their ways and become model citizens ready for reintegration into decent society.

I mention the previous because I too am a penitent. But instead bars my place of contemplate runs sporadically on four measly cars. Yes, I am talking about the G train. After all, how else can one while away so much time without touching upon a little existentialist angst? Seriously?

Which brings me to this poster for Philosophy Works.

As is the case with advertisements hawking philosophy, it asks a lot questions. Little did its creator know that we G train patrons have already found the answers.

Waiting for the mighty Crosstown Local to work its way through the bowels of Brooklyn and Queens predisposes us to reassess our lifestyle choices.

Sometimes we even feel a little guilty about some of them.

But not for very long.

Miss Heather

Easter Stuffed Animal Drive

I learned about this while knocking around Manhattan Avenue Sunday afternoon. While I wasn’t aware that the Church of the Ascension’s Easter Stuffed Animal Drive had such a lengthy history, it’s not at all difficult to understand why: it is a terrific idea. Those of you wanting more information can contact Priscilla or Edith at the phone number indicated on the above flier. Inquiries can also be made in person or via email at:

Greenpoint Church of the Ascension
121 Java Street
Brooklyn, New York 11222
ascensionbrooklyn (at) gmail (dot) com

Why not give a child a much-needed reason to smile this Easter and donate a stuffed animal (or two) today?

Miss Heather

Bushwick Photo du Jour: Sunday Special

From Jefferson Street.

Miss Heather

TODAY: You Pick The Movie At East Coast Aliens

Tonight the folks at East Coast Aliens have a great pair of movies to choose from for this special Oscar Award Winner “Pick Pick Night”. Per their press release:

Oh well,

It’s the Oscars again!

And boy! We almost missed out on the big show.

For those out there who don’t give a damn about artifice but care about art we give you the choice of… who should turn out to be the big winner of the night.

So you decide:

shall it be

Paul Thomas Anderson’s Boogie Nights

or shall it be

the Coen brothers’ O Brother, Where Art Thou?

East Coast Aliens
216 Franklin Street
Brooklyn, New York 11222

Doors open at 8:30 p.m. and the suggested donation is $6.00 per person. The selected film will begin at 9:00. p.m.

Miss Heather

Meet The Snowmen Of Greenpoint

Passed out at Ashbox.

Faceless next door to Ashbox.

Faceless on Green Street.

This one (my favorite) comes from Manhattan Avenue.

Miss Heather

A Little Red In Greenpoint

I happened upon this Greenpoint Red in the usual manner: while engaged doing something else. I was warning a fellow tenant of Chateau de Ghetto that someone has been parsing through our mailboxes. Our conversation came to an abrupt halt when I saw him, this fellow traveler of the Crosstown local.

Miss H: Pardon me, can I take a photograph of your coat? My husband is a card-carrying Commie. Since Castro resigned he’s been really bummed out.

Bearer of the Cloth: Oh yes, the hammer and sickle. But the Soviet Union were not true Communists.

He’s right. That’s why Mr. Heather is a Trotskyite.

Miss Heather

*Brazenly. Stealth is not our felon’s strong point: he (or she) leaves the mailboxes open for our edification. Mr. Heather and I have not received mail for two days save a Victoria’s Secret catalog. I left it in the mailbox on Thursday (in the hopes this person would take) only to find it still there on Friday. Bitch.