by Mikal Saint George

“[I might move to] LA because it's hard to commodify LA. As I say, How do you destroy a strip mall? How can you tell? It is not as easy to brand it the way the East Village is being eaten up.”
   Penny Arcade - Trigger Magazine

Manhattan Island has always been a piece of prime real estate in flux. An ideal harbor sight, the Dutch pounced upon it with Trump-like zeal a few hundred years ago. When England decided it should really be a part of their Empire, war was waged. Then the early New Yorkers spoke. Essentially saying, “We don’t care who the landlord is, just don’t interfere with our business of making money and starting more businesses.” The Dutch gave up, the English renamed a few streets and it was business as usual. The same battle still rages today.

Where once the battle cry was, “Don’t interfere with our economics,” the cry now is, “Don’t strip our identity in the name of economics.” We all like being able to pay our bills and live comfortably. But to replace every artist, free thinker and eccentric with a franchise and a bevy of girls in flip-flops, Fendi sunglasses and sequined cell phones is a mistake. The very essence that is drawing new economic possibility and viability is being drowned out. I would hope that in 400 years we have found a way to preserve the vitality that makes this city remain interesting while still making enough money to pay rent and buy food. Living in nearby Stuyvesant Town I am well aware of the infiltration of Walgreens – we now have nine in our “neighborhood” with more to come. No doubt, time marches on economies change but how many pain relievers and curling irons do we really need?

Burlesque Against Breast Cancer
By Justin Quinn Pelegano

Nov. 13 – In this town these days, $25 will barely cover the movie tickets you’re using to woo Little Miss/Mr. Big Thang. And you can forget about popcorn. Or soda. Or candy. (Basically, bring your own fun in your back pack.) And live theatre -- in this, the theatre capitol -- will make an even bigger dent in your wallet, and chances are they’re not even selling popcorn. Blowhards! But what if I was to tell you that for one night, tomorrow night, $25 could buy you a little sexy, a little funny, and a whole lot of great times? What if I was to tell you that same $25 could get you access to some of the hottest burlesque performers around, a chance to win one whole pound of cookies (Orville Redenbacher be damned), and an invitation to kick cancer where it hurts?

Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Hollywood Follies: Burlesque Against Breast Cancer is back, and it’s every bit worth the price of admission…yes….$25. This Tuesday, November 14 @ 8pm, Chelsea’s Cutting Room plays host to the titillating brainchild of event co-chairs Cori Werner Neustein and Ilise “Lady Aye” Carter. On the bill are several of NYC’s most talented burlesque and sideshow performers including The World Famous Bob, Miss Dirty Martini, Jo Boobs and Albert Cadabra. There’s even a fire eater! Now come on, that’s just plain awesome. There’s drinks to be had, a raffle to be won, and there’s even a silent auction featuring a whole menagerie of items; from lingerie to make-up sessions, from hand-made pasties to a Dutch-made lip-shaped urinal. It’s gonna be hot.

by Justin Quinn Pelegano
Photographed by Carey Denniston

Pick up Phoebe Hoban’s biography on the late artist Jean-Michel Basquiat. It’s reading I highly recommend, and this from someone who refused to crack a single book all through college. (Gracias, Cliff’s Notes.) For what it’s worth, it’s worth your time. But not for the reason you’d think. True, Basquiat was a self-destructive street-cum-gallery artist who ran (in a stupor) with an infamous crowd and flamed out way too early – and how could that not make for intriguing book material? But the real gem in Hoban’s work is its early ‘80s NYC history lesson, particularly its detailed look at the East Village art scene. She writes of a time when artists were collaborators were boundary-pushers who, with bold strokes, were redefining the canvas. Painters were stars, and art was accessible due to that very fact. The Dream was being chased by artists across the board and throughout the city.

by Justin Quinn Pelegano

Wait, I think I dreamt this once. Or, why do my flashbacks always have to be in neon? And I’m surrounded by the pop-tart-culture of my youth when it was okay to wear bright thick shoelaces in your Reeboks. Then again maybe that was never okay. Maybe that was just me. But here it is once more. Bold totem homage to Spielberg’s E.T.; to those eerie Smurfs; to a purple goddess standing huge, multi-colored hair ready to rope me into her canvas, My Little Pony hovering over her shoulder like an equine demon tempting our lady into naughtiness. Lego men sculptures on guard for a world of exploded Skittles. And, of course, Flipper. My favorite dolphin in various stages of vomitous, garish bubble gum something spewing from his beak. And yet I can’t help fixating on the NY Giants football helmet looking like peanut scrapings from the floor at Rodeo Bar. Do not miss this.

by Dinika Amaral

Whoever thinks the activism of the '60s is dead is dead wrong. I was one of these ‘whoever’ people, but an afternoon chat with ABC No Rio’s Steve Englander left me feeling like Warren Beatty must have felt as John Reed in Reds, a raging idealist eager to change the world. Of course, Reed did his bit by trying to fix the earth with political radicalism. ABC No Rio treads the gentle, yet explosive path of art activism.

by Liberation Iannillo

In Lydia Lunch’s bio, Paradoxia, the transgressive artist details her existence in the desolate wasteland that was SoHo during the early 1980s. Squatting in an abandoned building where the electricity had been turned off since Kennedy’s assassination, Lunch constructed bizarre set designs in the store front window using discarded mannequins, dead flowers and odd trash she would find on the street. Artists like Lunch are responsible for resurrecting the once shitty neighborhoods like SoHo and DUMBO, inhabiting them when even rats took off, and then building the ruins back up to something once again livable only to get the boot when the neighborhood begins to thrive. What a difference twenty years makes.

by Liberation Iannillo

Liberation: How did you become involved with the Howl! Festival?

Penny Arcade: They called me. I am a figure of prominence in the East Village art scene, both as a community member and a theatre artist. I have a problem with artists who just show up for high profile activities. They are never there when people are getting evicted…

by Liberation Iannillo

Art In Odd Places asks the questions: What is public space? Is it a park or a street? Is a third floor apartment window public space? Art In Odd Places was conceived by Ed Woodham to give exposure the city’s up and coming artists. “There seemed to be a need for a forum for emerging artists and I thought Art In Odd Places might help. I recently have become fascinated with the exploration of 'what is public space?'”

by Liberation Iannillo

This month the Federation of East Village Arts (FEVA) kicks off its third annual Howl! Festival of East Village Arts. From August 21st through the 28th more than 40 venues throughout the East Village and Lower East Side will play host to over 1,100 artists, musicians, filmmakers, performers and activists who are dedicated to maintaining the creative integrity of the neighborhood.

Let Them Eat Cake on Avenue C
by Mikal Saint George

The Palace at Versailles had its origins as a relatively modest hunting lodge - a little château of brick, stone, and slate - created by Louis XIII. Enter Louis XIV – the Sun King. A labor of love (partially to himself), he transformed the humble lodge into the most breathtaking architectural feat of its day. In 1682 it became the official royal residence. Few people are aware that the notoriously self absorbed King actually insisted that the palace was for the people and that his home be open to the public. The gates remained open all day to anyone who wished to partake of a bit daily royal shenanigans. Guards only did a routine search of weapons to avoid any harm to the King.

by Mikal Saint George

If ancient Constantinople were resurrected as a planet and Cher became dictator, there would be a royal decree that Exhibitionist would plate the Imperial army. Ecclesiastic, Medieval, Gothic and Renaissance iconography is the signature look. The Exhibitionist journey often begins with hand wrought chains dripping from pulsating jugular to secret recesses usually reserved for extreme intimates and / or David LaChappelle.

by Liberation Iannillo

Apollo Braun possesses a drive that hasn’t been seen since Madonna threatened to conquer the world during her appearance on American Bandstand in ‘83. In one long, deep breath, the foxy designer let me have it: Born Doron Braunshtein, the Israeli native came to New York City a little over three years ago with exactly $13 dollars in his pocket. He quickly found odd jobs such as nude modeling, stripping, and (worst of all) retail to support himself.

by Mikal Saint George

Versani is as much a state of mind as it is a design concept. Pieces are bold without being overbearing. Gemstones, be they garnets or diamonds, are luxurious but not ostentatious. It is rare to find an emporium in the elitist land of Soho where you can purchase a snakeskin and sterling silver choker for you rock star boy/girlfriend, a turquoise pendant for your mother and a custom designed platinum and diamond engagement ring all in the same place. Welcome to Versani.

Independent Thinking by Liberation Iannillo

Ben Jones, proprietor of the gallery Jigsaw, has had a busy year. Having moved to New York from California in December 2003, he found himself needing both a place to live and a source of income. Not being able to find either, the self starter began looking at work / live store fronts. His idea was to open a gallery to promote artists, primarily focusing on independent media, self publishing and affordable art. Within 6 months of Ben’s arrival to New York, he had opened Jigsaw.

With its prosthetic limbs, Victorian clothing and taxidermied animals, Obscura is the East Village's worst, best kept secret.

by Liberation Iannillo

Tucked away on the less frequently traveled East 10th Street is the wickedly beautiful Obscura. It is a shop, part mad scientist, part Norman Bates, that has a tendency to frighten away some of its less adventurous customers. In essence, it is the perfect antithesis of the ‘Sex and the City’ plague that threatens to gentrify the East Village. Obscura is a place fit for Edgar Allen Poe to call ‘home’ not Carrie Bradshaw. And its owners, Mike Zohn and Evan Michelson, wouldn’t have it any other way.