This is so beautiful.
#honestly earbuds are the best invention ever for this exact reason
When I used to walk to work, sometimes I would have earbuds in with the cord just running into my pocket.
Earbuds are a good visual cue that you are not desirous of interaction with randos. I have a few problems with my use of earbuds in public space in NYC:
1. When men street harass me, I can still hear what they say, even with music playing at top volume. It’s a drag.
2. Men who are too entitled to care that I am listening to something more important than them make physical contact (grabbing arms, tapping shoulders) while they demand my attention.
3. My earbuds do not shoot flames at my harassers. Seriously, FUCK STEVE JOBS.
August 23rd, 2013, Dick Blick hosted a special session of Dr Sketchy’s Anti-Art School at their new store on 6th Ave & 20th St. Canson Papers and Royal Talens sponsored.
Delysia LaChatte, Dame Cuchifrita and Rosebud modeled as reps of different periods in art history.
Last night on Bond Street.
Dame Cuchifrita, Rosebud, Delysia LaChatte.
Grandma Fun for Dr Sketchy’s NYC Paul Gaugin tribute session.
New York is an ugly city, a dirty city. Its climate is a scandal, its politics are used to frighten children, its traffic is madness, its competition is murderous. But there is one thing about it - once you have lived in New York and it has become your home, no place else is good enough.
I once shot a party in an aesthetician’s spa/office and caught the tail end of her workday, giving an injection to a client while dressed in a gorgeous gold ballgown.
RIP Taylor Mead.
He read weekly at the Bowery Poetry Club until that institution closed in 2012.
The first time I met Taylor Mead was when Katelan Foisy asked me to photograph her interview with him at one of those readings. He sat at the bar, drinking Dewars. He said how annoying the press was, but visibly wilted when I took my camera off of him. He wore a blue velvet jacket. As he shifted in his seat, the fabric seemed to glimmer. I thought it was reflections of the Christmas lights on the shiny buttons. It was the dim light bouncing off the backs of tiny roaches, hitchhikers from the rent controlled apartment he’d been in for more than three decades. Taylor was unphased.
He had to leave NYC shortly after this, as his building was sold and taken over. Bowery Poetry Club was supposed to reopen, but it’s something else now. Mars Bar is gone. The Bowery is so whitewashed now, there’s little filth left to make magic of. Who is going to wear a blue velvet coat full of shimmering roaches now?
Mme Rosebud in Dr Sketchys’ Reefer Madness session.