Kenan Christiansen Antonio Garcia, the street artist known as Chico, recently received commissions for 10 new neighborhood murals, including this in-progress work outside Whiskers pet supply store on Ninth Street. Below (from left), Phil Klein, a co-owner of Whiskers, Mr. Garcia and artist Joel Salas.

It’s hard to walk around the East Village and not run into a mural by Antonio Garcia, who’s known to almost everyone by his nom de spraypaint, Chico. The locally born graffiti artist has spent most of his 34-year-career dedicated to painting the public walls of the neighborhood with lush murals often directly inspired by contemporary events.  When he was laid off from his job at NYC Housing in 2008 he left the city to live in Florida with his family.

“I always said I’d come back,” said Mr. Garcia, standing before his latest work at Whiskers Holistic Pet Care on Ninth Street.  “If they pay for my ticket, I’ll come.”

And even though he’s only been in the city a few weeks his murals have already began to proliferate.

On his most recent trip, sponsored by Branson B. Champagne, Mr. Garcia painted a mural celebrating the royal wedding on a wall in East Houston and Avenue B. The job only took 12 hours and he soon had more projects lined up. Before he leaves on June 24, Mr. Garcia agreed to 10 new mural projects in the neighborhood.
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Mario Ramirez

The bicycle is such a decorous, ingenious, quiet machine, it’s a shame it has become a politicized one as well. But when you see somebody on a bike with a placard attached to it which reads A QUIET PROTEST AGAINST OIL, you know Politicization has arrived. (On First Avenue, in this case.)

Beautiful and ingenious as the bicycle may be, the human body is even more beautiful and ingenious, at least until the age of 60, and especially below the age of 30. And let’s not forget one important thing. As a pedestrian, I also fall into the category of partaking in A QUIET PROTEST AGAINST OIL, unless I’m in a cab. I just don’t have a sign, or a T-shirt, with which to make this fact plain. But I’m going to get one. It’s going to be a quiet protest against other, equally quiet protests.
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Michelle RickBrowsing outside Strand Books.

I enjoyed the portrait of Mast Books by Brendan Bernhard we published yesterday because the clean, bright space has become one of my regular haunts on Avenue A. Not that I can claim to be a valued customer. I like to take my ten year-old daughter in there and point out the books I’ve already got. “I have that. I have that. I do have that, but in a different edition.” The problem for Mast Books, if not for me, is that its curation of titles is so close to my taste that the store’s bookshelves uncannily mirror my own.

Reading the piece, I mentally counted off the neighborhood’s surviving independent bookstores and paused to mourn a few long lost. Posman’s on University Place was somewhat west of the East Village but housed an extraordinary selection of academic paperbacks. This was a place to revel in critical theory, bask in sociology and drown in philosophy. Almost irreplaceable, but I get an adequate fix of Foucault and Badiou, together with the opportunity to browse improbably expensive glossy magazines, at St Mark’s Bookshop.

The Strand is the neighborhood giant, of course, and one of the largest bookstores in the world in terms of miles of shelving. Usually crowded, always hard to navigate thanks to crowd-sourced aisle dithering, it’s the place to find relatively new books heavily discounted as well as cheap used editions. The Strand has been easier to access since surveillance cameras took over from the bag check (like only people with large bags can steal books) and the store’s website, unlike aspects of the store itself, is a model of user-friendliness. Read more…

Al Kavadlo demonstrates the “L-sit.”

This past Saturday, the best of the best from the NYC calisthenics scene met
in the East Village to train at my favorite outdoor gym, Tompkins Square Park — and I was fortunate enough to be a part of the action!

Members of the world-famous Bar-barians, as well as Team Beastmode, Calisthenics Kings and many others all united to train together, share their knowledge and feed off each others’ good energy. Also on hand to represent
NYC’s parkour community was Keith Horan, who dazzled the crowd with his
blend of calisthenics and freerunning.

Over the last several years, the jungle gym at Tompkins Square Parkhas become a mecca for calisthenics and parkourenthusiasts everywhere, with Saturday afternoons being the unofficial time for one and all to come out and strut their stuff.

Throughout the afternoon there was no shortage of pull-ups, muscle-ups and
handstand push-ups — and that was just the tip of the iceberg! In spite of
the intensity of the exercises, the vibe was casual and welcoming. In the
end, we all had a good time and a great workout — my arms are still sore as
I type this!

Al Kavadlo is a personal trainer, freelance writer and author of the book, “We’re Working Out! A Zen Approach to Everyday Fitness” (Muscle-up Publications, 2010). For more information visit www.AlKavadlo.com.

Kenan ChristiansenThe Goldman at Union Square Park.

On a drizzly day like today the weather couldn’t be more dreary. The sky isn’t offering a speck of color and besides puddle-dodging, people barely have a reason to look up. How shocked they all act when they come to Union Square Park and find the Goldman quietly shining. He peers into a small mirror and empties a can of Gold 4100 spraypaint on his face as carefully as if he were shaving.

“Does that hurt your skin?” they ask him.

“I use special paint,” he says. He gets this question a lot.

The Goldman has been practicing his “statue mode” for more than 10 years and isn’t deterred easily by weather. He worries more about putting out the right energy and being at the right place, in the right time.

“I go where the people go,” says the Goldman. “The weather does not matter. If it gets too bad I go underground to the subway. But you have to follow the money.”
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Jim Hohl A group of university students on an alternative spring break, volunteering with New Alternatives, with some of the organization’s LGBT homeless youth.

Robert Smith, 24, describes his childhood as magical. Growing up in Myrtle Beach, S.C., Mr. Smith had everything a child could ever ask for — European vacations, the latest gadgets and even a hefty trust fund.

“I was a platinum-spooned, spoiled rotten trust fund baby,” said Mr. Smith with a grin. “Anything that someone could possible want, I had.”

But when Mr. Smith turned 19, that all changed. After coming out to his family, his grandmother cut him off financially, removing him from her will because she would no longer support his lifestyle. After spending several years moving around the south, Mr. Smith, who had just been kicked out of his older brother’s apartment, booked a flight and headed to New York.

“After paying for the flight and my hostel stay, I only had $55 in my pocket,” said Mr. Smith. “When I couldn’t afford the hostel anymore, I went to the Street Works Project and stayed in their emergency beds for about a week. From there, I went to Sylvia’s Place for three weeks before heading to Trinity Place Shelter for a year, where I attended the Back to Work Program and got my life together.”

Mr. Smith is now the executive assistant to the chief operating officer at a computer analyst company, and it’s a title he says with pride. But there’s another organization that he credits for his success — New Alternatives for LGBT Homeless Youth.
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Tim Schreier on catching artistic silhouettes in New York City.

“Photography has opened my eyes over the past few years. It makes me look at things in a different and more appreciative way. When I think with my ‘picture-taker head’ I am looking at things from a different perspective and noticing things — like people in profile — that I would otherwise have passed by without giving any thought to them. Here’s a performance artist in Washington Square Park.”
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Heartonastick Tom Verlaine performing at Central Park Summerstage, 2007.

There are certain artists one wishes one could outgrow. They belong to one’s youth, after all, and perhaps they should remain there, along with all the other youthful things one is relieved to have outgrown. But for me, the music of the CBGB’s-era band Television, and in particular its singer and songwriter, Tom Verlaine, is one of those youthful enthusiasms which (so far, anyway) threads its way through my life with embarrassing persistence. Occasionally it disappears for long periods while other, more novel interests take hold, but then, like mosquitoes in Spring, back it comes, nipping at the senses as tenaciously as always, only in this case the result is intense pleasure rather than irritation and blood marks.

Television was, or is — no one seems to be sure of its exact current status — the band best known for inaugurating the CBGB’s scene in the mid-1970’s; for having to this day a small but ferociously loyal group of devotees; and for having been eclipsed, at least in terms of popularity, by other bands of that era such as Talking Heads, Blondie, The Ramones, et al. Even by the monstrously egotistical standards set by most rock stars, they seemed weirdly indifferent to fame and record sales, but like the Velvet Underground their musical influence remains pervasive and lives on in a variety of formats which now include amateurishly filmed but invaluable concert clips put up on YouTube.
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The “maxi” dress, as its name implies, represents the fact that it’s cut at the maximum length possible. While often form fitting at the top, the maxi dress and the similar maxi skirt is long and flowy, covering up the legs and letting the toes peek out. As these East Villagers noted, the conservative cut lends well to funky patterns and its name also supports another of its virtues — maximum comfort! On the street the Local was not surprised to see these East Villagers looking stylish while staying cool and summer-minded!

NYU Journalism’s Rachel Ohm and Claire Glass report.

Earlier today we told you about plans to capture and treat Violet, the red-tailed hawk whose nest is high above Washington Square Park and whose leg is badly swollen from a metal wildlife band. The City Room blog of The Times is providing regular updates on the effort this afternoon, including its Hawk Cam. At last word, wildlife workers were en route to the nest begin the rescue. —The Local

Dan Glass
Emmanuel Howard.

“Hey, buddy, I got some tools for ya,” says Emmanuel Howard from his table full of goods on Avenue A between Second and Third Streets. While helping a neighborhood acquaintance, he was greeted continually by passersby — elderly people with dogs, leggy blondes, kids, and street folk. He says he’s been selling here for 32 years.

Mr. Howard — who is known as Manny the Peddler to almost everyone — is one of the last street peddlers on the Lower East Side, infamous in the 80’s and 90’s for blocks-long stretches of people selling everything from antique furniture to dead batteries. Former Mayor Rudy Giuliani eliminated much of the street vending during his terms, but Mr. Howard remains. At 70, he still hauls second-hand merchandise by handtruck, virtually all of it set aside for him by neighborhood residents, with one recent score of metal garbage cans and push brooms from Stomp, courtesy of the Orpheum Theater.

“There used to be people everywhere at three, four o’clock in the morning,” says Mr. Howard, who rarely stands still, between arranging his inventory and giving a quick pitch to anyone eyeing an item. “Not like now.”
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Tim Milk

Enzo’s Pizza, famous to those who dwell near 50 Second Avenue, will be selling slices and soda up through this Thursday, May 12, Enzo’s last day of business.

Enzo’s pizza, made with fresh homemade marinara sauce and topped with real mozzarella — “not that white rubber crap,” as Enzo would put it — will be missed. His eggplant slice with farm-fresh ricotta was a masterpiece offered seasonally, and his delicious hot meatball and chicken Parmesan sandwiches were a mainstay to many in the area.

As ever, Enzo could be relied upon to serve up his specialties with opinions on everything from food to sports to politics. The more poetic aspect of the southern Italian dialect was also a feature whenever an attractive lady passed by his windows.

Stop by the place for one last slice and to say goodbye. There will never be another Enzo’s.

Adrian Fussell, Vivienne Gucwa, Michael Pearce, Tim Schreier, members of The Local East Village Flickr Group share their images of the Festival of Ideas for the New City.

Created with Admarket’s flickrSLiDR.

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