One of my very favorite parts of doing this job is creating posters for our events. It’s because I don’t have a stuffy art director telling me I can’t have a dogs face up another dogs butt for a comedy benefit, that I find this work so satisfying. And I can get away with it because I have the best readers with even more bizarre senses of humor than I have! Here is a look back at just some of the fun events, and marvelous posters featured on the website in 2012. Look forward to a lot more events and great posters in 2013. What is your favorite? (PS. the last two are Ugly Art Room events, but I wanted to share…)
Sometimes it feels like Greenpoint is the capital of Lost Kitty-land, or perhaps where all Internet cats go to retire. It doesn’t take long to find a lamp post covered with layers of lost cat posters, old ones getting covered up by new ones. It feels as though our fine little northern Brooklyn neighborhood is overrun with free kittens, feral cats and locals looking for their lost furry friends.
Ever wonder how this happens? How do people lose their cats? Do they leave their doors or windows open? Are felines naturally attracted to those giant digester eggs at the waste facility on Greenpoint Avenue? Are Greenpointers trying to hipsterize their cats by making them “free range”? If your cat “escapes” your home, would you chase right after it? Or do people think that posting flyers all over the neighborhood will bring them back?
Look at these flyers. Many of them don’t have a good picture of their cats so the tiny chance that someone may identify their missing pet is minimized. And many say, “Goes by: Mr. Fluffypants” Really? Cats respond to names given to them? I don’t think so. And there is the phone number; what are you supposed to do with that? Call and say that you think you just saw their cat running east on Manhattan Avenue?
I do have sympathy for anyone losing a loved one, but might I suggest to all cat owners right now: Take some good mug and side profile shots of your kitty and create a missing cat flyer template now because chances are it’s going to happen.
Now, I don’t have a completely sarcastic view of this. Just yesterday, I was walking down my street and saw another missing cat flier for a very cute long-haired friend named Nappy, and it reminded me of when I lost my beloved feline Casper when I was 12 years old in a land far away from here.
Midtown sucks, we all agree. I try to be in and out, but when I have to wait around I seek a haven; a quiet place or I go to therapy, shopping therapy. It’s slim pickins’ but when I need a snack and reading time I head to Fika, a swedish espresso bar, with great coffee and pastries, including chocolate balls, great macaroons and my favorite sandwich, avocado with arugula, red onion and cream cheese on raisin bread.
And when I need to get a brain fix I head to Argosy, a 3-story fetish shop for used books and old prints. On the bottom level you can find prints from $3, like that sweet flamingo (bottom right). I also picked up that Brooklyn Amusement Park poster (top left) from the late 80s for $10. The other two, a graphic novel with a dude chain sawing a tree (top right) and a weird Russian canned food print (bottom left) were $20 each. Pretty cheap for awesome artwork!
After a ride back home on the G train, which made me wonder they leave one door half open in each car when you wait at Court Square, I realized maybe it’s to keep the A/C inside. The MTA being energy conscious?
The plan was to go to Vintage Modern for the We See Stars trunk sale, but since the train ride was supersonic fast, I mosied around The One Well and chat with Kerry. I wanted to buy a gift for my friend’s girl who is visiting from Japan. The problem with shopping for someone else is you always find things for yourself.
“That is totally normal!” Kerry assured me, so I bought these pearly pink old lady earrings ($28), which weren’t clip-ons, hallelujah! And for the lady friend I bought this adorable flower bowl ($12). Then I headed over to the trunk sale and scored those arrow earrings ($18) and ate a gallon of potato chips. See that spread! Erica, the jewelry designer, also sells at the Dekalb Market on weekends. Jon met me down the block for dinner at EAT after he ate a hot dog. Lucky! Our salad had the most delicious honey vinaigrette. Seth told us how to make it: just whisk together honey, oil and apple cider vinegar with a little salt. Magic.
While there I started unraveling all my wares from my shopping spree.
“Well I had a lot of time to kill!” I reasoned.
“So you shopped. You are such a good American,” Jon said.
“Look how adorable, right? She is going to love it!” I said proudly showing him the flowery bowl. Then I turned it over.
“MADE IN CHINA! I can’t give this to her!” Every year, my parent’s friends, the Watanabe’s send us Christmas presents from Japan. As a kid (and as an adult) I beg to open all the origami wrapped gifts. When we turn them over we find the “Made in China” sticker and laugh, even though the gifts are always gorgeous. Meanwhile, we probably send them gifts made in China, too. Or worse, Canada!
Without thinking too hard about the history of far eastern diplomatic affairs or mass consumerism, I bought her the slate colored handmade bowl from Eat instead ($7), which is Made in Brooklyn and I happily kept the cute little Chinese bowl for myself.
Oh the blunders and plunders of gift exchange with the Japanese! Now hide my wallet and hope today is payday!