Usually the sketchiness I see on the NYC subways has more to do with undiagnosed mental disorders than it does art. But, part time radio producer and part time techy doodler Eric Molinsky draws stealth portraits of the MTA's less sketchy riders using only his index finger and an app on his iPhone.
The results are a very charming cross section of the train riders straphangers and hopstoppers see everyday. Molinsky captures the mood of the morning commute and the amazing education in humanity (culture, fashion, emotion, oddity, etc.) that is the New York City Subway System. Beyond the great idea to document the daily crowd, Molinsky's sketching skills on the quick are quite impressive.
Street photography wasn't invented on a blog. Net snappers like Scott Schulman, Garance Dore, and Tommy Ton may be greatly talented, but they aren't original to the degree you might think. While the wireless technology of quick shots and even quicker sharing has made the global street scene an international public venue for fashion and character shows, the real pioneers of the genre were out working in the field at a time when their unsuspecting subjects didn't even know what a camera lens was. Leon Levinstein's work is a black and white time capsule of a mythic New York that was but will never be again: the gritty city of the 1970s.
The small rooms lined with his photos at The Met until the 17th of this month are your windows on that world. The public, in all of its beautifully rough glory stars in the snaps that are cool, grimy, sweet, and stunning.
The thing I admire most about any public photographer is their ability to capture an unwitting subject without altering a moment. Levinstein comments in the show's online material that he's lucky he never lost a tooth or a lens. "Most people don't particularly care to be photographed," he said, "and if you ask them--the picture's ruined." There's a risk in that. I'm glad Leon took that risk again and again, and I'm hoping you'll catch this tribute to his brave legacy before it's taken down.
All photos Leon Levinstein via a google image search.
I'm moving to the big city. I live right near it, and love it as if it were my own, but I've always been a Jersey Girl waiting for the day when "I live in New York." was not a statement of proxy, but rather a truism. It sounds cliche--little girl dreams of big city--but cliches exist because they are so often so true for so many. My New York envy runs deep and has always coincided with my love of fashion. I used to get dressed up to visit Miss New York. I'd put on my coolest clothes and actually do my hair to go hang out there and I'd watch as all the other city dwellers dressed up in their own ways; business suits with ties, stompy boots with rubber dresses, fur coats and too much blush, anything "it" and of the moment. New York is a fashion parade and a people watching paradise. I can't wait to fall asleep in my bed, hovering above its electric current of everything everywhere moving in every direction. I'm almost as excited as the two girls in this 1954 TWA film. Almost. I'm definitely jealous of their cute skirts and hair pin dos. You have to watch this.
Click the map above for a visual guide to the circus that is Union Square.
There is nothing like New York City. Nothing at all. The mere cavalcade of people, cars, and things rushing by you at any second on any corner of any block provides enough visual/mental stimulation to last the average person a few lifetimes. One of the things I love most dearly about this behemoth of a city is the people watching it provides. As a fashion-o-phile I quite enjoy the endless stream of stylish trendsetters on display. But, as a sociology geek I much prefer sighting the strange, wonderful, and often slightly disturbing not-so-normal people among us. You know what I'm talking about, right? The guy who walks by every lunch time with a cat on his head? The woman who has one giant dreadlock (shudder, shudder, gag, gag) and pushes a shopping cart through the Herald Square area every morning? The couple who dresses in head-to-toe white for daily afternoon strolls around the West Village? They are the extra spice of life in this already feisty concoction of a city. They are the wacko (I say that with complete and utter affection) regulars who you are at first scared of, but then find somewhat comforting and endearing in their predictable strangeness. To a guy known as Normal Bob Smith, they are the subjects of his taxonomy of Union Square. They are his Amazing Strangers.
That's Wendel the Garbage Man. He collects bags, paper, and well, garbage and makes outfits out of it. He also wants you to pay to take his photo and will get mad if you don't.
This is the sassiest diva of a Park folk I have ever witnessed. He is all stomp and sashay. Do not get between him and his coffee as I once did. There are no words.
The endless subcultures on display include ravers, club kids, goths, pimps, and "gravers" (goth ravers).
Just watching the tourists take it all in is entertainment enough!
? Just watch.
Normal Bob Smith has quirks of his own, he can be a bit scathing in his captions on his site, but I forgive him because his goal is to make the fascinating Union Square regulars into known characters. He's come up with a fair amount of categories in his catalog of the folks. He's got the scenesters, the junkies, the fundies, the peepers (beware ladies sitting on the steps!!!! These creeps are checking out your undies!!!), the conspiracy nuts, the free huggers, the skaters, and even a dog molester who he's caught in the act. He's documented this carnival of characters in photos and videos. I was astounded to find this site and see just how many regulars I recognized from my time spent in Union Square Park. He's got the rrrrrrripped guy who looks like a plastic heman doll, the guy who makes hats out of toilet paper and plastic bags, the Quater Guy who aggressively panhandles only quarters, and on and on. It's amazing.
Holy Moses. When I first saw this guy, dubbed "Junky the Barbarian" by Normal Bob, my jaw had no gravity for like three whole minutes.
Do NOT hug the Free Hugs people! According to Normal Bob they are responsible for the spread of an outbreak of bed bugs!!!! Ew.
Just your average pimped out lowrider cycle. Amazing.
I really want to know what these two do for a living.
What? You don't wear your cat on your head?
There is a level of pure awe that I have for these people, especially the ones who construct and rock elaborate get-ups. I had a bit of a moral dilemma when composing this post, wondering if I was contributing to intolerance, or making fun of people who may be even more "special" than I find them, but in the end, I'm impressed. I'm impressed with the dedication to an aesthetic that they have with their quite possibly limited resources. I'm impressed with their freedom of expression, with thier dance moves, their hairstyles, their performances (except you, you peepers and dog molester!!! For shame!). What would NYC be without its population of Amazing Strangers? Certainly not the place I know and love.
These girls have moves! All I really have to say is:
Street artist Judith Supine is one of the highlights of any highly graffitied wall in New York. His work is a combination of collages of found images, illustration, painting, enlarging, x-acto work, and some paste. Here, let him (yes, by all visual accounts, Judith is a him) show you how he does it. Now, don't be scared of his face, I think he's wearing little facial feature cutouts to hide his identity. Ok, look:
Mr. Judith often uses found fashion images in his art, but they always come out a little on the disfigured side, which I love. He distorts the pretty to make another kind of animal entirely. Here are some of his other works as shown on Streetsy.com:
In true streetartist fashion, there is quite an aura of mystery around Judith Supine. The only details I could find on the Supine were via a write up in a bit of New Image Art's materials from a group show Supine took part in. It says he couldn't talk until a month after his 17th birthday. Until that time he communicated in grunts, squeaks, and drawings which were fastidiously saved by his mother. Other than that? He live in Brooklyn. That's all we got. You can get a glimpse into his private studio via a piece from Arrested Motion that ran early in the year.
Supine's been bombing the city like crazy lately, doing unprecedented work in the bowels of the sewers and a lake in Central Park.
Supine's pieces in an NYC sewer and a like in Central Park, again via Arrested Motion.
All the extra effort is raising awareness for the artist in anticipation of his upcoming solo show at New Image Art. It's in LA, but I'm sure the internets can provide you with coverage of the amazingness which is sure to come.
