On Wednesday, Sparky the Line raced like a wild heartbeat beneath the scaffolds of the city. Orange-pink, pinky, chalky Sparky raced with the fever of dance and lawlessness. Our concept of terrain, or depth-of-field was no use to him. He was like a laser.
All of our fabrication is done right here in this old factory building in Northside Williamsburg. A few weeks ago, the owner decided to do some patching of the old concrete and give it a fresh coat of paint. We like the ocher color. When a building starts to fall apart and nature begins to take over (rain, wind, plants) a certain beauty results. It can be feel spiritual to work in an old building like this. On the other hand, there is another kind of beauty that results from conservation. A lot if old factories in Williamsburg are being razed, destroyed, leveled or “unbuilt” if you will. Our building is being “conserved”. On such a large, rough scale as this, the patches and crack-fills of our walls are still visible. The crew of workers were not seeking perfection. Instead, they provided a basic conservation service to a large, aging building. They fixed it using their hands, a minimum of tools, and often swinging from seats made of wood and rope. I am grateful to be able to work in this building.
These quasi-jellyfish are appearing all over Williamsburg and Greenpoint lately. I gotta say, there is a certain random freedom to their shape that I love…
I walk by this place on my way to the sandwich shop. I think it is an interesting example of color, and it makes me feel like I am somewhere else, like California. To me, color can be pushed so far that it becomes like a resounding frequency that bathes us in its selective light. In that way, every house is like a radio tower, or a practicing musician.
So I left the studio to have lunch with a friend. Our shop is lucky enough to be in the heart of Northside Williamsburg, Brooklyn. Nearby, a vacant lot is being drilled, dug up, and tamped down. It changes shape every day, and I truly have no idea what it will become. It makes me happy because I love to be a long term witness to the massive and rapid changes here. But I am also concerned. On one corner, you might find an old man patching up the old mortar that holds his fragile stoop together. On the next, a crane unloads massive steel beams. A concrete truck (the third of the day) dumps its soup-like slurry into the new basement foundation of a luxurious condo. Food for thought. I return to the studio to cut wood, and to plan.