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April 16th, 1:21pm 6 notes

kngee79:

Gotham West Market Part.2

-way-finding mural 

-water station sign

-bathroom sign

-stair way signs

design provided by client AvroKO HG.

http://gothamwestmarket.com/

Kenji is the best!

April 13th, 12:05pm 2 notes
Ugly Art Room presents TRIP - Art Piece by David B. Smith (in an elevator) - #gp_market

Ugly Art Room presents TRIP - Art Piece by David B. Smith (in an elevator) - #gp_market

April 13th, 10:37am 3 notes
This beautiful space will be filled with talented local vendors at 1pm! See u there! 67 West st, 5th fl #gp_market

This beautiful space will be filled with talented local vendors at 1pm! See u there! 67 West st, 5th fl #gp_market

April 12th, 3:11am 243 notes
jilliantamaki:

My friend Christine Zounek died last week. I drew Christine for my Trash the Block essay for PRINT magazine, where I included a bit about the Soup Kitchen where we both volunteered. (Christine was there at the Soup Kitchen’s inception about 6 years ago and was Head Chef.) She loved this picture I’d drawn of her, especially the patch of light on her butt, which I had done for no significant reason but she thought looked like she’d wiped flour on her pants. 
Our friend Emily Gould wrote the following tribute to Christine which encapsulates who she was: a larger-than-life personality and one of the truly good people in this world. 
__
After my friend Christine’s dad died, she gave everyone who worked with her at the soup kitchen a plastic bag filled with birdseed. The bags had a little tag on them with a picture of cardinals and a note about how her dad loved feeding birds, so we should feed them in his memory. I had never met her dad and I only knew Christine from the hours we spent together every Wednesday afternoon cooking alongside a lot of other volunteers, but it was also impossible to be anywhere near her and not know her. She let everyone in to her world, which was fascinating, larger than life. She had been so many places and known so many interesting people. All the New York things I’d read novels about, Christine had experienced, and she also knew the people who wrote those novels. Now she worked as an art restorer and spent a lot of time cooking and dishing out food in a soup kitchen in Greenpoint.
I didn’t have a backyard or birdfeeder, so I just put the seed out on my windowsill. Birds came and ate it, which seemed slightly miraculous. How did they know to come? After the bag ran out, I bought more. More than a year later, I still put some out every morning. Mostly mourning doves come, but occasionally also juncos and finches.
Christine took her own life last Friday — I’m now hearing she had a bad chemical reaction to newly prescribed antidepressants, which makes the senselessness of her death extra horrible. It seems impossible. She was so much more alive than most people.
This morning I heard the unmistakable metallic chirp of a cardinal and went to watch him eat the seed. He sang as he ate, loud and full of life, with his majestic crest flaring in the early sunlight. Christine, I thought.
I know the idea that someone who has died comes and visits you in some reassuring form is silly, childish wishful thinking. I believe that at the same time that I believe that Christine’s spirit is in the world still, in birds and cats and people, in everything that sings loudly and proudly and is absolutely always purely itself.

jilliantamaki:

My friend Christine Zounek died last week. I drew Christine for my Trash the Block essay for PRINT magazine, where I included a bit about the Soup Kitchen where we both volunteered. (Christine was there at the Soup Kitchen’s inception about 6 years ago and was Head Chef.) She loved this picture I’d drawn of her, especially the patch of light on her butt, which I had done for no significant reason but she thought looked like she’d wiped flour on her pants.

Our friend Emily Gould wrote the following tribute to Christine which encapsulates who she was: a larger-than-life personality and one of the truly good people in this world.

__

After my friend Christine’s dad died, she gave everyone who worked with her at the soup kitchen a plastic bag filled with birdseed. The bags had a little tag on them with a picture of cardinals and a note about how her dad loved feeding birds, so we should feed them in his memory. I had never met her dad and I only knew Christine from the hours we spent together every Wednesday afternoon cooking alongside a lot of other volunteers, but it was also impossible to be anywhere near her and not know her. She let everyone in to her world, which was fascinating, larger than life. She had been so many places and known so many interesting people. All the New York things I’d read novels about, Christine had experienced, and she also knew the people who wrote those novels. Now she worked as an art restorer and spent a lot of time cooking and dishing out food in a soup kitchen in Greenpoint.

I didn’t have a backyard or birdfeeder, so I just put the seed out on my windowsill. Birds came and ate it, which seemed slightly miraculous. How did they know to come? After the bag ran out, I bought more. More than a year later, I still put some out every morning. Mostly mourning doves come, but occasionally also juncos and finches.

Christine took her own life last Friday — I’m now hearing she had a bad chemical reaction to newly prescribed antidepressants, which makes the senselessness of her death extra horrible. It seems impossible. She was so much more alive than most people.

This morning I heard the unmistakable metallic chirp of a cardinal and went to watch him eat the seed. He sang as he ate, loud and full of life, with his majestic crest flaring in the early sunlight. Christine, I thought.

I know the idea that someone who has died comes and visits you in some reassuring form is silly, childish wishful thinking. I believe that at the same time that I believe that Christine’s spirit is in the world still, in birds and cats and people, in everything that sings loudly and proudly and is absolutely always purely itself.

April 12th, 3:09am 11 notes

sarahpaol:

pt 3

April 3rd, 8:52pm 15 notes
icysigns:

Ass Sale?

icysigns:

Ass Sale?

March 30th, 3:42pm 21,444 notes
March 29th, 8:49pm 2 notes
mueet:

@troostnyc #greenpoint

mueet:

@troostnyc #greenpoint

March 29th, 8:47pm 59 notes
dandelionwineshop:

Wise words, neighbor! @oakandiron #booze #wisdom #greenpoint #foundingfathers #partyon #america  (at Oak & Iron)

dandelionwineshop:

Wise words, neighbor! @oakandiron #booze #wisdom #greenpoint #foundingfathers #partyon #america (at Oak & Iron)

March 29th, 8:47pm 4 notes
mueet:

#real #classic #newyork #newyorkstyle #pizza #pie #triangolo #greenpoint

mueet:

#real #classic #newyork #newyorkstyle #pizza #pie #triangolo #greenpoint