Every few years or so this famous 1992 article from The New Yorker makes the rounds, seen as ground zero in the "Williamsburg is about to become the hippest place on Earth" movement:
But when Annie Herron speaks about Williamsburg, she sings. “I think that what’s coming out of Williamsburg is going to be the last thing that comes out of New York as the art capital of the world,” she says, proudly pointing out a bit of neon calligraphy lit up in her window that matches the lettering on the Sing Keung Car Repair, Inc., sign next door. “I think the work is very much of this era. Because of the concentration of artists out here, it will become known as being from this area.”
Herron, who produces videotapes for her artists’ shows instead of catalogues, is insistent about one thing: The nineties — at least as far as the art world goes — haven’t even started.
I always joke that Williamsburg became Williamsburg about 10 minutes after I moved there, which is really funny because it's pretty much true. It's weird looking back on that era, knowing I was in the middle of a cultural renaissance. I don't have a lot of regrets in general, but looking back I maybe wish I'd have embraced it all a little more instead of just rolling my eyes at everything. But then, who the fuck know when they're in a "Golden Era" of anything? Okay maybe I did, since back in 2008 I wondered if I should shed my insecurity/shyness/dread a little bit:
But there is sometimes a bug in my brain, that slight jealousy that wishes I had a group of guys that I could sit around with and create comedy. Come up with it, film it, boom! move on. I've never had that (tho, as I'm now confessing, I've never seeked it either.) Oh, I have plenty of friends that are funny, but I'm talking about a Sid Caeser/Larry Gelbart sitting in a room cranking out the stuff for hours. I'm not naturally funny just to look at and I don't have an accent and I'm not quirky, but I could do that shit: want a joke about an ardvarks? You got it. Here's a newspaper, gimme 10 jokes in an hour, no problem. All while coming up with higher-concept stuff in the back; just some warm bodies at that point to carry the shit out that I want. Today we're doing a bit about Abraham Lincoln waking up hung over the day after he had freed the slaves ("I did WHAT???!!!!!") Sit down, shut the fuck up, do as I say! I'll never have a group like that; as arrogant as I am about what I know is funny, my insecurities re: being a joiner would overwhelm everything else. Unless the 4 funniest people I know walk up to me and say "lead us, Xmastime!", it's prolly not happening.
Mostly, re-visiting this article just makes me sad because all of our old haunts have died away (except the Turkey's Nest dammit!!) but I wouldn't trade the kazillions hours of great memories laughing our asses off for anything in the world.
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