Brooklyn (2018) by The Prattler

ISSUE I – BROOKLYN – FA 2018

CULTURE &

THE PRATTLER | CULTURE & COMMUNITY

COMMUNITY

PHOTO BY SAMUEL HERRERA

THE TRAIN IS L EAVING KATIE VOGEL My first week in New York, I ventured into the subway with my eyes glued to Google Maps. As a rural North Carolina native, my mom’s Toyota Sequoia was the closest I came to public transportation. The train tunnels lacing beneath my new home was a foreign language I needed to learn if I wanted to explore. At first I avoided transfers to minimize the likelihood of getting lost, but one afternoon Google indicated a transfer from the 6 to the L train at 14th Street. With no other options, I slipped through the doors, clutched my phone close, and peered around for signs. I hopped on the L train and celebrated this milestone in my big-city initiation. On the streets above me, local businesses were in the midst of their own transformation: preparing for the L train’s approaching 15-month shutdown. As repairs to areas damaged by Hurricane Sandy continue, the need for upgrades across the entire subway’s infrastructure becomes even more apparent, not only to solve commuter inconvenience but also in mitigating blows to other social spheres, such as business owners.

“There’s no reason to assume it won’t impact here—the magnitude is the question,” Scott Davis of Teddy’s Bar and Grill tells amNewYork. While the shutdown will not go into effect for another eight months, the repercussions of preparatory construction to stations along the line are already affecting businesses’ income. Instead of a customary store sign, a construction fence sits in front of Goorin Bro’s Hat Shop on Bedford Ave. “The construction din often drives [potential customers] away,” Manager Shanice Brown shared with amNewYork. “We’re just trying to really tighten up our community base before it shuts down.” “Convenience is the No. 1 item,” Halina Jankowski of Northside Pharmacy added in conversation with amNewYork. While the upheaval reiterates the subway’s role in maintaining accessibility to business areas, the temporary initiatives that ease commuter detours are not relieving the pressure on those who rely on the train’s traffic for customers.

RAAKA: BROOKLYN’S OWN WONKA CHOCOLATE FACTORY

If you ever find yourself exploring the historic neighborhood of Red Hook, there is no doubt that you’ll be beckoned around the corner of Seabring and Van Brunt by the rich, delicious scent of dark chocolate. Here you will find Raaka, Brooklyn’s version of Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory. Although they may lack a chocolate river or candy cane trees, there is definitely no shortage of utter uniqueness and pure imagination. Much like Wonka’s infamous factory, the art of chocolate making is mysterious. Thankfully, William Widmaier, the Raaka’s production manager, was able to offer some insight into how such a facility operates. Established in 2010, Raaka prides themselves on creating organic dark chocolate bars with a variety of flavors from Bananas Foster to Bourbon. On any given day, their highly skilled team can produce up to 3,000 vegan, glutenfree chocolate bars. Widmaier notes that on top of fixing broken machines or ordering special ingredients, his main goal each day is “to make sure that everyone can work to the best of their ability. . .and have fun doing it!” What makes Raaka more unique than any Wonka Scrumdiddlyumptious or Everlasting Gobstopper is their chocolate making practice. Most chocolate companies roast their cacao, but

Raaka is different; at Raaka, each bar has its own flavor profile, depending on where the beans originate from. In addition, Raaka uses a system of direct trade that connects cacao co-ops with buyers, ensuring ethical labor practices and fair prices for farmers.

“WHAT MAKES RAAKA MORE UNIQUE THAN ANY WONKA SCRUMDIDDLYUMPTIOUS OR EVERLASTING GOBSTOPPER IS THEIR CHOCOLATE MAKING PRACTICE.” Widmaier adds that the real golden ticket of Raaka, however, is its staff. “We have such an interesting mix of people here,” he states, “We’re all drawn to food in some way; it’s really easy for us to go out for a few drinks after work and talk about our latest cooking project, or how we’re going to spend our weekend.” In a sense, this encapsulates the melting pot of Red Hook’s community. Red Hook has long remained under the New York radar, but hidden like golden eggs between the warehouse wasteland are spaces of decadent artistry. If you’re looking for paradise, give Raaka a taste.

PHOTO BY SAMUEL HERRERA

CULTURE & COMMUNITY | THE PRATTLER

ALIZA PELTO

THE PRATTLER | CULTURE & COMMUNITY

PHOTO OF CROSSLEGGED BY PAMELA WANG

GOD DOESN’T HAVE TO SAVE THE QUEENS KATIXA ESPINOZA Based in Bushwick, the Brooklyn Do-It-Yourself (DIY) music scene brings a continuing life to the local arts community. These environments are lively, filled with the smell of hot sweat and noise that makes your ears ring. However, they are also physically and figuratively taken up by cishet white men—leaving no space for women and femmes in the scene. Women and femmes, in fact, play an integral part, as they have often been neglected by those who dominate the landscape and in turn bring the marginalized and disenfranchised to the forefront. Frankie Cosmos’ Greta Kline ignited the genre of ‘Bedroom Pop’ from the comfort of her room to Brooklyn venues. Pratt student and DIY participant Marbling’s Basia Kurlender expresses her complex emotions through a shy alto tone and upbeat acoustic guitar. She believes “for anything to be inherently good it has to be inclusive.” DIY venues have even served as housing for QTPOC homeless musicians, but only after a feminist push for inclusivity. Kurlender explains that it was easier for her to be taken seriously and that she feels safer when playing with male-identifying bandmates.

However, she describes the worthwhile moments in the collective as she eventually befriended those who supported her work, gaining a powerful sense of belonging. The term punk, which emerged from prison slang, gave space for a more aggressive take on rock. It was about seeking change, and women involved saw this as a platform to vocalize injustices faced in a space that suffers the same oppression. Through the surfacing of small DIY labels, handmade punk zines, and secondto fourth-wave feminism, this conglomerate granted women and femmes visibility and amplified the DIY scene around the country for generations to come. It’s crucial that we continue representing local minority musicians who are still fighting for visibility. Their deafening voices have proven to make a difference for the better, keeping the punk alive through resistance of -ias and -isms and securing safe environments. Always combating the status quo, the artists fight on, despite consistent oppositions and pressures embedded in a patriarchal society.

MOCHI WITH A SIDE OF GENTRIFICATION Homesick in Brooklyn, my mother and I searched for our traditional Polish delight, pierogies. However, most restaurants we came across took pierogies out of their cultural context, filling them with trendy avocados or pumpkin spice, and were overpriced for what is simply flour, water, salt and filling. This was my first experience with food gentrification, which has arisen as a byproduct of neighborhood gentrification. It’s one subcategory of gentrification among numerous other instances arising daily. One of the better known food gentrifiers is Whole Foods. Such places are Columbusers—entities who claim discovery of something pre-existing—and are cultural appropriators. For example, mochi, the delicate Japanese ice cream, has been plucked from its origins to be sold at Whole Foods. A world once filled with predominantly Japanese mochi eaters has transformed into a place where mochi enjoyment is ubiquitous, disregarding the cultural significance behind the speciality. The more desirable a product becomes, the more retailers are validated in raising the price. Mochi now sells for $2.29 a piece at Whole Foods, though if you were to walk through the streets of Chinatown you could easily find a package of six for no more than $9.00. There are two roles in gentrification: native and foreigner. Natives are the original inhabitants, while the foreigners are those new to the neighborhood, who don’t know as much about the culture, and who ultimately drive prices up and natives out. The problem is how Whole Foods profits from other cultures’ delicacies. This exploitation is identity theft. Food is personal, something we all do slightly different. It’s one way we identify ourselves as unique. As food culture grows more mainstream, so does food gentrification. ILLUSTRATION BY MAURA KELLY

“THIS EXPLOITATION IS IDENTITY THEFT. FOOD IS PERSONAL, SOMETHING WE ALL DO SLIGHTLY DIFFERENT. IT’S ONE WAY WE IDENTIFY OURSELVES AS UNIQUE.”

Living in a major city, we need to be conscious of the lens we look through. We need to protect what’s vulnerable. The lesson to be learned is not to stop eating various foods, but to be cautious of who you’re supporting. Stop sponsoring companies that appropriate cuisine and overcharge for basic ingredients. Doing so will not immediately resolve food gentrification, but may deter similar establishments from expanding and furthering the issue.

CULTURE & COMMUNITY | THE PRATTLER

MAURA KELLY

EULOGY FOR THE LESBIAN BAR

THE PRATTLER | ISSUE I FEATURE

ILLUSTRATIONS BY JANIE PEACOCK

MALLORY PEARSON

here’s a bar on 5th Avenue in Park Slope, tucked between the pleasant normalcy of a chiropractor on one side and a café on the other. A rainbow flag hangs on the window as a crowd buzzes past the brightly painted façade. Laughter spills out into the street—infectious and inviting. This is Ginger’s, Brooklyn’s last lesbian bar, and a beacon for the LGBTQ+ community among a tragically dying bar scene. While Ginger’s is still going strong and has been for 19 years, its steadfastness also poses a question: Why are the lesbian bars shutting down? In a city that once boasted 86 different LGBTQ+ bars, down to around just 53 today, four lesbian bars remain; Ginger’s is the lone soldier in Brooklyn. Gentrification and the soaring prices that it brings poses an imminent threat to all bars in the city, but that’s not the only problem faced by the lesbian bar. Many issues lie within widening

gaps between older and younger generations of the community that leave bars in a stalemate, trying to decide who to cater to while also attempting to keep up with rapid rates of change. Sheila Frayne, the owner of Ginger’s, weighed in on these issues she has seen within the community and reflected on the effects, stating, “I kept on going and kept on fighting. . .even now with the change in the neighborhoods.” Born and raised in Ireland, Frayne explains that her history with Irish pubs and their open doors for people of varying ages helps to explain the longevity of Ginger’s. “We would bring our grandparents to the pub,” she says with a laugh, “It’s always a nice thing you know? To make sure that you’re looking out for the older people.” Looking out for each other regardless of age is an idea that she emphasizes with great affection. While Ginger’s is listed as a lesbian bar, Frayne mentions tenderly that all members of the queer community find a safe home in her bar. “It was a

Frayne recalls how previously flourishing spaces like Catty Shack in Brooklyn fell victim to narrowing demand and steep rent. With the prominence of LGBTQ+ dating apps thrown into the mix, the lesbian bar has been demoted from its position of primary gathering spot. Brooklyn doesn’t quite fit the NYMAG proclaimed “lesbian capital of the Northeast” title these days as more and more people meet online. Without the commonality of these solidified safe places for lesbians to call their own and share love for one another, the community has become adrift, relying on clubs and bars that host occasional lesbian nights.

“I KEPT ON GOING AND KEPT ON FIGHTING. . .EVEN NOW WITH THE CHANGE IN THE NEIGHBORHOODS.” While the closing of a lesbian bar may seem trivial, it is a period of mourning in this community that dedicated its time and energy to developing history in the nooks of New York City. “It’s always very sad when they’re gone,” Frayne laments when asked about the lesbian bars that have closed over the years, “I think we all bring something to the neighborhood.” When considering the importance of Ginger’s in the timeline of queer history, Frayne adds, “It was never just a lesbian bar…but I must be doing something right because they keep on coming back!” What she’s doing right is providing an establishment like Ginger’s that lends a warm welcome to all in the community, even as spaces like it begin to disappear under the pressure of a changing environment. It’s mournful to watch them go, but a welcomed joy to see Ginger’s flourish. To lose a place where this history was created is like torching records until only ash remains; Brooklyn’s queer community is left with only memories and the light that is Ginger’s, a hope burning on through the night.

7 ISSUE I FEATURE | THE PRATTLER

place where everybody came,” she recollects, “It was a place that we all got together.”

8 THE PRATTLER | THOUGHTS

THOUGHTS

PHOTO BY UMA SMITH

IS BUSHWICK THE NEW SOHO? UMA SMITH Bushwick, formerly an unknown industrial neighborhood, now has tourists flocking to see its street art. Works by both distinguished internationals and emerging locals adorn the walls. However, characteristics of an overly-developed Williamsburg are encroaching, with $17.00 pizzas becoming the new norm. Is Bushwick the new SoHo? Will it displace locals and become synonymous with marketing expensive, niche products? I sat down with Mar, New York native and Bushwick Street Art tour guide, for an insider’s perspective. Mar spoke of the 1960s when the Artists Tenants Association acquired loft spaces for artists in SoHo, which was then a manufacturing district. Artists beautified the area. Seeing the monetary potential, the city rezoned SoHo to become Joint Live-Work Quarters for artists. This set the scene for the high-end shopping district that defines SoHo today. Rents skyrocketed, locals were forced out, the neighborhood became unrecognizable, and SoHo became the face of everything that is wrong with gentrification. However, Mar says Bushwick is on a different trajectory. It has become a haven for street artists, with the Bushwick Collective organizing permits so as to secure legal space for artists’ work to live. This appeals to a different demographic than SoHo: one that cares for community. Furthermore, Joe Ficalora, Bushwick native and founder of the Bushwick Collective, wouldn’t want to see his neighbors evicted. While rents are rising, the new rezoning plans promote rentcontrolled apartments and affordable housing, keeping the industrial zoning laws and creating a historical district. However, the plans are yet to be implemented.

PHOTO BY PAMELA WANG

In the future, Mar hopes that Bushwick stays the same. He sees the current change as an improvement, promoting artists and cleaning up the area while not transforming the neighborhood. However, as a tour guide, Mar has a vested interest in Bushwick, and his is only one opinion. Many already regard Bushwick as unrecognizable with its gaudy walls and overpriced pizza. Besides, despite rezoning promises, locals are still being pushed out. It is important for us to be involved, promoting policies and happenings such as the rezoning laws, so that Bushwick doesn’t take a turn for the worse.

HOW BIG IS A CLOSET ON KOSCIUSZKO STREET?

9 THOUGHTS | THE PRATTLER

JACK DINNDORF When I wore leather, I was an 18-year-old, paying $10 a night to sleep in a flophouse underneath a South Brooklyn dental office. With oblivious patients upstairs and an owner making ends meet, we lived in a dingy, rat-infested crime scene, invisible to the public. The New York I moved to was the fantasy that hooks suburban imaginations with the narrative of struggle and creation. I lived with the likeness of Ratso, and by the grace of Craigslist responses that paid for my food and beer. Sinatra slept in the bunks, and elevated trains brought artists to their audiences. New York’s mythology felt alive as I kindled the fading idea of Bohemia.

“THERE WAS A MAGNETIC ATTRACTION TO DIY—AN UMBRELLA TERM FOR ALL THE KIDS WHO BUILD THINGS THE WORLD NO LONGER ALLOWS.” ILLUSTRATION BY OLIVIA KWIATKOWSKI

After four months of the unforgettable, police shut the premise down. A friend of mine told me about a venue between Greenpoint and Long Island City, with bunk beds upstairs, similar to those of a hostel, and a massive stage below. The space was an incubator for young artists, and the shows were electric. A Saturday crowd could fill the warehouse, and the underground secrecy of it all transported me to another time. Inside the concrete cathedral, a generation once glued to their phones became immersed in the event. The world stood still in the feeling of total reverence. There was a magnetic attraction to DIY—an umbrella term for all the kids who build things the world no longer allows.

Just as I was getting settled, I learned that the building’s lease was being revoked. With my couchsurfing opportunities exhausted, my inevitable trip toward adulthood was expedited. I got a standard retail job and an apartment I could barely afford. Life was about waking up and doing it again. Before the morning customers arrived I’d remember the life and the myth I had once lived. A year later I was between places, and a friend of mine let me move into her collective. She and her friends had rented a six-bedroom duplex in Bedstuy and offered me their closet. I paid utilities, not rent, and was able to live an uninterrupted life, distanced from convention once again.

SLOW HOLLOWS

THE PRATTLER | PHOTO ESSAY

BABY’S PHOTOS & WORDS BY PAMELA WANG Drained after a long week, I sat on the bus thinking about the next four hours and what was to come. The facts: Slow Hollows was playing at Baby’s All Right in Brooklyn. Doors: 8 p.m. On the bus, the silence was peaceful, albeit piercing. Just me, a middle-aged woman and the bus driver—7 p.m. on a Friday. En route, a wave of nerves hit me. I had not been to a show in over two months. The silence persisted, lingering until, finally, I arrived. I was home. Baby’s All Right is a small bar and music venue located in Williamsburg. Numerous bands, both local and national, have headlined there. With a cap of 280, the site provides an intimate and honest space for musicians to connect with their fans. At every show I’ve been to, attendees are pushed up to the front of the stage, engaged and engulfed in the experience. Slow Hollows’ performance was no different. After the two openers, anticipation was brimming. Many in the crowd had been waiting for Slow Hollows all night. Once the band took the stage they jumped right into their first number, no introduction needed, we were ready. A couple songs in, the band encountered technical difficulties, which prompted them to stop and restart until they got it right. You could sense a bit of frustration from Austin, the lead singer. After a couple tries, they eventually pushed through.

“ONCE THE BAND TOOK THE STAGE THEY JUMPED RIGHT INTO THEIR FIRST NUMBER, NO INTRODUCTION NEEDED, WE WERE READY.” LEAD SINGER OF SLOW HOLLOWS AUSTIN FEINSTEIN

During their set the band seemed a little disengaged. They plowed through most of their songs without saying much. As it was my first time witnessing them live, I wasn’t sure if that was their general demeanor or if it was merely an off night. Despite the hiccups, there were definite standout moments. After playing one of their newer tracks, “Two Season,” the band’s energy began to pick up. As I walked throughout the space I noticed the groups of people and the atmosphere between them. The thin silver streamers hanging from the ceiling shimmered when the colorful lights hit them, mimicking the twinkling of stars. Couples put their arms around each other; friends smiled as they swayed side by side.

OPENER STEVIE WOLF

Approaching the finale, Austin was left on stage alone to perform “Hell,” a beautiful song that highlighted the soulful, rich nuances of his voice. As he stood alone on stage looking out into the crowd from behind his keyboard, it felt as if time had stopped. The air was calm, and all was profoundly still. The evening in its entirety was a showcase of pure talent. I left feeling excited and grateful to be involved in something once again that I had taken time away from. Documenting musicians has become a part of my life, and jumping back in helped me realize how fortunate I am to be able to pursue what I love.

PHOTO ESSAY | THE PRATTLER

ALL RIGHT 9/21

LETTERS FROM US

CULTURE & COMMUNITY

Prattlers,

02 THE TRAIN IS (L)EAVING

Transformation is upon us. As the chill of Fall sweeps in and general homework stress becomes a more focused midterms panic, the Prattler too is no stranger to change. We’ve redesigned our look; our club, class and staff are full of new faces; and our first theme of the year encapsulates the spirit of rebirth like nothing else: Brooklyn. As publishers we take pride in the neverending challenge that is making something new every quarter. However, our goal since inception has always remained the same: to foster and amplify the voices of student creators. My sincerest thanks to every contributor and reader for keeping that mission alive. I hope you enjoy Issue 1. With love, Aaron Cohen Editor–in–Chief

Katie Vogel addresses the impending inconvenience the L train shutdown will have on commuters and businesses.

03 BK’S OWN WONKA CHOCOLATE FACTORY Aliza Pelto uncovers a magical land of creativity, community, and chocolate in Red Hook.

04 GOD DOESN’T HAVE TO SAVE THE QUEENS Katixa Espinoza contextualizes the femme DIY music scene and interviews local artists involved in the punk movement for equality.

05 MOCHI WITH A SIDE OF GENTRIFICATION Maura Kelly examines the causes & effects of food gentrification, pondering possible resolutions for the growing problem.

ISSUE I FEATURE 06 EULOGY FOR THE LESBIAN BAR Mallory Pearson interviews the owner of Ginger’s, the last lesbian bar in Brooklyn, ruminating on the demise of LGBTQ+ bars.

PRATTLER STAFF

THOUGHTS

CREATIVE DIRECTORS Pamela Wang Jooyoung Park

08 IS BUSHWICK THE NEW SOHO?

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Aaron Cohen MANAGING EDITOR Janie Peacock WEB DESIGNERS Noah Semus Nicholas Lucaccioni ADVISORS Christopher Calderhead Eric Rosenblum

EMAIL US AT THEPRATTLER@GMAIL.COM OR VISIT US AT PRATTLERONLINE.COM

Uma Smith critiques the rising popularity of Bushwick and its infrastructural issues, also acknowledging the thriving community of artists within.

09 HOW BIG IS A CLOSET ON KOSCIUSZKO ST? Jack Dinndorf explores what it means to live in New York City without playing by the rules.

PHOTO ESSAY 10 SLOW HOLLOWS AT BABY’S ALL RIGHT Pamela Wang documents the band Slow Hollows and expands upon the anxieties and rewards of music photography.

COVER BY JOOYOUNG PARK