Thursday, November 10, 2011

Prospect Park in oil

As though you'd held your breath on a day in the in the park in the sun and...

Those are Frank's paintings of Prospect Park.

They are delightful.

But first, we had to find them.

A walk, a fight on the street, beautiful trees, Polish bakeries, row houses, the BQE, industria, and at last the loft space. One day people will say, Yeah,  back in the day, these buildings were full of artists, dude. Like, this is where they came because it was affordable! Can you believe it?

The way we speak of SoHo, now, and Williamsburg. The artists come, they hack out a space in which to work, and then the world follows, the rents go up, the world shops, and eats, the artists leave, a trail of civilizing phosphorescence in their wakes...

We entered, we climbed.

We found vinho verde and slices of spicy dried sausage, and paintings of green.

Thank you, Frank.

1 comment:

  1. Thank you for making the trek! Last time I lived in Williamsburg, for reals, was in 1997. I was sharing a spare room for awhile while getting my bearings in the early 2000s. In my absence, it filled with college age girls, high rents, and hundreds of bars and coffee shops.

    And now I live in Kensington. Ssshhhh, don't tell anyone.


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