issue 3 BROOKLYN GREATER

issue 3
GREATER BROOKLYN
Winter 2015
Contact us or Submit Work:
bkcooperativezine@gmail.com
Growth, Loss, and Digging In
The past decade in New York City is
marked by dual signs of growth and
loss. The loss is primarily sited around
a recurring loss of place. This loss
reflects an assault on our basic “right
to the city”1 – and more precisely, our
right to continue existing within one’s
own home/urban-imaginary/social life/
workshop/playground. Paradoxically, this
loss has been manufactured alongside
and in direct proportion to the greatest
“economic growth” phase the city has
ever experienced. But somehow “growth”
doesn’t do much for us, or do much for the
spaces we choose to inhabit and support.
We don’t grow out of our neighborhoods,
so much as get grown out of them.2
Our communities have always existed in
borrowed spaces – occupied for as long
as we could keep a foothold – but 2014
was a bad year for art and culture spaces.
The rent was too damn high to begin
with, and then it went higher. RIP Death
by Audio, RIP Rod & Gun Club, RIP Body
Actualized Center, RIP Galapagos, RIP
Glasslands, RIP 285 Kent, RIP Goodbye
Blue Monday. While new venues are
always cropping up, and the Times can
boast that art isn’t dead in NYC and that
it’s still a fun place to live, loss sustained
through displacement takes a toll on us
mentally and physically.3 New enclaves
form in new neighborhoods, but over
time, each time, we are forced to ask how
committed we are to staying put. One less
thing holding us here in this overpriced
work-too-much city we love. Each space
is loved and then lost, and what does our
commitment matter? Haven’t we lost the
city already? And yet, we live here now. 4
Of course we can move to another city,
Berlin yesterday, Detroit today, but where
then?
The Sunview Luncheonette came out of
one such period of dissolution, but also of
confidence that taking space and digging
in was the best answer. Zebulon had just
closed, and we lost a home. Rubulad was
without a home (again), and so were we.
House of Yes closed soon after, as did
3rd Ward. Founded in 2012, the Sunview
occupied a storefront on pause to became
a social club and community space, and a
multigenerational collaboration between
Sunview members, the surrounding
neighborhood, and the owner and tenants
of the Sunview’s building.5
We are looking at other modes of artistic
and civic collectivity and collaboration
that cut across disciplinary, class, race,
and culture lines. We’re interested in
creating a working group with other
small arts and culture or radical living
collectives who are taking and keeping
space in the city. We are asking ourselves
questions like:
Q: How can we build sustainable, independent and autonomous
living and creating spaces that are resistant to gentrification,
fight displacement (of our own communities and our neighbors’),
while avoiding the assembly-lines of the non-profit industrial or
placemaking-industrial complexes?
Q: How might artists better integrate themselves into the
communities in which they live and work, and provide services
to those communities, in exchange for support and longevity?
Q: What does art space that is rooted in community engagement
look like, and how can current residents be central, engaged, and
active in developing new models for creative, broad-based and
inclusive, forms of cultural resistance?
1) See David Harvey, http://newleftreview.org/II/53/david-harvey-the-right-to-the-city... wherein he writes: “The question of what
kind of city we want cannot be divorced from that of what kind of social ties, relationship to nature, lifestyles, technologies and
aesthetic values we desire. The right to the city is far more than the individual liberty to access urban resources: it is a right to
change ourselves by changing the city. “
The private social club – essentially a community supported cultural center – is
a working model that has proven resistant in this city to some degree in the past,
and it is our starting point. We’re hosting a series of talks/dinners this year, to share
strategies, make a working group, maybe come up with a toolkit, and would like you to
be involved. Would you be involved? Write to us at hello@thesunview.org.
2) Remember when we used to live in the Eas--Williams---bushw...east new...New York?
3) On the role of displacement in altering the psychological and physical health of neighborhoods, read Mimi Abramovitz’s
and Jochem Albrecht’s paper, “The Community Loss Index: A New Social Indicator,” (http://www.hunter.cuny.edu/socwork/
faculty/community_loss_paper_ssr.pdf)
4) Gratuitous holla to Ram Dass.
5) The Sunview’s owner, Bea, ran the Sunview for 45 years with her husband as a restaurant-cum-community center...a
place to hear what was going on in the neighborhood. For those 45 years, from 5 am to 11 pm, the door was practically
always open. When the city shut the Sunview down, the darkened space became a magic lantern, and anyone passing by
could use it to project their dreams and desires. In some ways, the hope was always to keep the Sunview at the conflux of
these two currents: community space / magic lantern.
Dylan Gauthier
On The Male Gaze
Surrealism destroyed her
Radical filmmaking destroyed her
Painting destroyed her
Song destroyed her
She sung out
One note left:
religion or electroshock therapy?
and all the ecstacy bottled up and
blue
taken and removed
how can you go on
and we were artists too
a love affair of the muse
murder like raisins
wrinkles
tape
murder lone
a point like a star
blistered and dropped
through open black
into earthy hole
where even the rabbits have
forsaken
to find less dry ground
quivering
oh the quakes
I am only a woman
Where will I
now?
Sarah Gallina
sarahjgallina@gmail.com
All #BlackLivesMatter.
This is Not a Moment, but a Movement
#BlackLivesMatter was created in 2012 after Trayvon Martin’s murderer, George
Zimmerman, was acquitted for his crime, and dead 17-year old Trayvon was posthumously placed on trial for his own murder. Rooted in the experiences of Black
people in this country who actively resist our de-humanization, #BlackLivesMatter is
a call to action and a response to the virulent anti-Black racism that permeates our
society. Black Lives Matter is a unique contribution that goes beyond extrajudicial
killings of Black people by police and vigilantes.
It goes beyond the narrow nationalism that can be prevalent within Black communities,
which merely call on Black people to love Black, live Black and buy Black, keeping
straight cis Black men in the front of the movement while our sisters, queer and trans
and disabled folk take up roles in the background or not at all. Black Lives Matter
affirms the lives of Black queer and trans folks, disabled folks, black-undocumented
folks, folks with records, women and all Black lives along the gender spectrum. It
centers those that have been marginalized within Black liberation movements. It is a
tactic to (re)build the Black liberation movement.
When we say Black Lives Matter, we
are broadening the conversation
around state violence to include all
of the ways in which Black people
are intentionally left powerless at the
hands of the state. We are talking
about the ways in which Black lives
are deprived of our basic human
rights and dignity. How Black poverty
and genocide is state violence. How
2.8 million Black people are locked in
cages in this country is state violence.
How Black women bearing the burden
of a relentless assault on our children and our families is state violence. How Black
queer and trans folks bear a unique burden from a hetero-patriarchal society that
disposes of us like garbage and simultaneously fetishizes us and profits off of us,
and that is state violence. How 500,000 Black people in the US are undocumented
immigrants and relegated to the shadows. How Black girls are used as negotiating
chips during times of conflict and war. How Black folks living with disabilities and
different abilities bear the burden of state sponsored Darwinian experiments that
attempt to squeeze us into boxes of normality defined by white supremacy, and that
is state violence.
#BlackLivesMatter is working for a world where Black lives are no longer systematically
and intentionally targeted for demise. We affirm our contributions to this society, our
humanity, and our resilience in the face of deadly oppression. We have put our sweat
equity and love for Black people into creating a political project–taking the hashtag
off of social media and into the streets. The call for Black lives to matter is a rallying
cry for ALL Black lives striving for liberation.
* DUMPSTAR *
Black plastic bags lay placed on the sidewalk in front of the Brooklyn
bourges-mart. Feel them. Squeeze them. What is inside? A bounty, a
pantry, a booty, food freed for all who are willing to get it. Prodigious
knots are tied binding the bags shut. Don’t rip into them, don’t cut into
them, what is tied can be untied. Grab the bunny ear at the the knot and
twist it back into itself. The knot will loosen. Head lamp, gloves, pull the
bag open and dive right in. It’s double bagged, another knot to untie.
Bags within bags within bags and more bags white, clear, shopping,
produce, paper, plastic, contractor, take-out, freezer, body. Crystalline
plastic clamshells dumped of their contents, re-stacked 30 or 40 at a
time await the landfill. Fruit scraps and peels from smoothies consumed
that day go un-composted. A mess of recently emptied jugs, their milk
swirled down the drain to join in the waste stream. Food packages of
packaged and repackaged food still entombed and perfect, ready to
eat as the day they were processed, tonight being their last best by
day. Organic gourmet, gluten-free, it’s vegan. Boxed cereal, pancake mix,
candy bars. Food ruined by begrudging shopkeepers. A bag of bags of
pita chips, individually stabbed deflated and crushed. Yogurt containers
emptied out over everything. Bleach sprinkled over everything. A fish
head. A 50 gallon bag of chicken carcasses, toxic e coli to everything
they touch. A mound of bison meat, a significant portion of the animal
right there on the city curb. After all resources that go to feed, raise,
water, butcher, wrap, ship, market and merchandise majestic beast meat
it gets dumped on the side walks of New York. Dead flowers, live house
plants, juice, sushi. A wheel of cheese. A whole mellon. Bruised fruit
and veggies too unsightly to sell. Bread, bread and more bread for days
from subsidized grains baked for pennies a loaf. Showloaves discarded,
unsold, not yet day old. Bagels, bagels wasteful bagels, boiled in water
then baked by the gaggle. On display for a day then thrown away. In
front of every bagelry, every night in the city trash bags burst chocked
full of bagels, some still warm. Poppy seeds, onion bits, minced garlic,
dead sea salts shake off as sediment at the bottom of the bag, every
bagel now an everything bagel. Waste pastries. Little frosted cupcakes
stuck together in a ball. Single servings, individualized portions, on-thego packs, over packaged, over processed, over preservatized. Load them
into your bag, save them from the landfill, reclaim, re-harvest, resource
our resources. Neo-glean the spoils of consumerism. Puffy packs put’
em back. Any doubts, throw it out. Don’t make a mess and retie the the
black bags. If anyone asks what you are doing, show them. Share. If you
are shamed, show them our real shame, waste. If they say it’s disgusting,
show them true disgust blacked out by the plastic. If they still think it’s
wrong to take from the trash tell them, it’s wrong not to. Reap from the
streets, it’s expiration day.
David Daniel Geissler
Utopia School: Intentions
JI: We're talking about an experience of
Utopia that we've had in our lives, or
something that resembled Utopia. We're
teasing out from those experiences,
elements we might want to bring into
this project to explore as our intentions.
And they're going to be painted on the
wall, in the center of the room. Who
wants to go first?
R: I'm Rahee. I go by she, but I want to
explore it more. The last time I felt a
Utopia was at Zuccotti park. The park
was filled with people with a very
revolutionary spirit, and vulnerabilities,
and love and support and courage, and
then, we're like singing all night long,
dancing all night long, chanting, and
then a lot of us shared the experience
of morning together, and everyone was
doing yoga in the park together, and
then met people from all over the world.
It definitely didn't feel like it was in the
world that I live in.
MB: I'm Matthias. And I'm generally called
he, but I like we. When I felt Utopia last
time, was while clubbing. And I have this
feeling almost every time I'm clubbing.
Dancing, and really into it, I had this kind
of Utopian sense of being a big body...
with a lot of other people that I don't
know.
SG: I'm Stephen, and I go by he him and
his. I think of a time when I lived in a pretty
small town, and had a big community of
friends that all were nearby, and at our
house, we would do a shabbat dinner,
that people would come to. Hearing
these stories is evoking those memories,
of the warm house, and big pots of food
and just a lot of love and a lot of good
people around.
A: My name is Alexi, I use he as a pronoun,
although I don't always feel entirely
male, but I want to stick with he pronoun,
because I don't want to take away from
other people who use other pronouns.
A Utopian moment, or experience, was
when...I moved in with some people
into an abandoned photo printing lab
in London, and that was the first time
I was really involved with squatting a
building from the beginning, like really
opening a space. It was an amazing
journey...exploring all of these places
inside of myself, that I either didn't know
were there to begin with, or had lain
abandoned for a long time-- so I guess
[it was] the process of moving into this
building with this group of people that I
didn't know, and then also moving in this
space inside of myself.
AM: I'm Alisha. And the closest I've felt
to being in a Utopia, was facilitating
therapeutic arts groups, and specifically a
group of incarcerated women. I felt like we
had an amazing rapport, where everyone
felt safe and comfortable and authentic
with each other. That environment was a
very special enclave of people.
GL: My name is Gil. I think the closest has
been probably the last two summers, for
me. Where I didn't have an address, did
not refer to myself as homeless. I lived
with friends, and I camped a lot. There
was a hammock in my garden. And it was
liberating, yet somehow deconstructive
as well. I was breaking down a whole
system of methods and beliefs for living
life that I currently adhered to. This past
summer I got to refine the process a little
bit. I made a lot of mistakes, and I made
a lot of really good choices. So it's been
a big learning experience over the last
two years. Learning how to live, not in
our accepted societal roles, and at times,
provoking others to confront their place
in a society that we, as Americans live in.
JI: Maybe we could tease out some of
the aspects of these experiences, which
made them Utopia for us. I'm hearing
some themes come up. Like – proximity...
togetherness with other people...food,
sharing food. In Alisha's story, I heard a
bit of overcoming what's shitty about
the world. Working with incarcerated
women-- working in an environment
which I perceive is very difficult, and
finding within that –something, a space
for sharing.
SG: Something that spoke to me-something about common projects,
where the project is something everyone
is participating in in some way, and
where everyone is connected around.
Engagement towards building, or doing,
or making something.
R: Overcoming common struggle
together.
SL: Yeah. And the ability to grow as a
person, in your own interests...while still
focusing on a collective goal, along with
your own pursuits. Allowing for you to
grow in how you help people with their
own pursuits.
MB: That you're self-sufficient in some
ways, but within a body of a lot of people.
JI: I was also hearing expression of joy-like in yours, with the dancing...
LR: Another thing is personal commitment.
For me it's not only important, my
personal commitment to something--but
it's that moment when you realize that
all the other people in the room with
you have the same degree of personal
commitment, and so-- even if you are all
single people, there is something bigger
than the single individual.
MB: A collective mind.
A: I think, at least in my experience,
I felt like it was really fragile, and that
there was something about these kind of
Utopian experiments, something about
how fragile they were, and that tension
that was created between the people
within the space and the outside world.
There was something about that tension
and that fragility that was important. So
I think as well as being joyful and warm
and this other stuff, there were times
when it felt like we were walking on this
very thin line.
SG: Can you say more about how that
interacted with this experience of Utopia
that you are talking about?
A: There was something...things being
so fragile...there was something in
that allowing for what felt like quite
a constant movement of ideas and
experiences. Whereas I've definitely
visited more established spaces, and
more established squats that have been
around for a long time, and with that,
they have a sort of safety and comfort,
which I'd never want to take away from
anyone. But you definitely felt it in the
air, that kind of rigidness. [And you miss]
movement, and experimentation, and it
all being very teetering.
MB: I really like this fragile thought.
Because a lot of these social situations
could have so easily flipped to a bad side,
but-- because of that fragile moment, it
managed to stay on the line. It makes
quite good sense in my head and my body,
when I hear you talking about fragility.
AM: I think fragility-- being aware of
it forces you to make the conscious
decision-- that “I need to make the most
of this while it's here, I have to work to
maintain it, and keep this good.”
SG: [It requires] concentration-- because
I think that so much of non-Utopian
experiences, is kind of a scattered
attention, or boredom-AM: I think, maybe being really alert
and really aware, and really focused and
present-- yeah.
JI: Which isn't necessarily something that
you can prescribe. Like, you can't walk
into one of these more established spaces
and be like, “Be present! Be aware!” It's a
really special set of circumstances. And
I'm wondering...what the ingredients are
to that? How can you cultivate it?
R: I want to bring up another element,
which is slow communication. I think
generally in the default world, when
we communicate, our intentions are
[to simply] get our thoughts across.
I think in Zuccotti, or I would call
them my Utopian experiences, it's so
transparent, in the heart level, that
you actually pay attention to the other
person's feelings. It's really difficult to
do, I think, in general communication.
It's slower communication, more mindful
communication.
MB: Empathic, maybe?
AM: I agree. I think that we're taught
that communication is about the mind
communicating, and connecting thoughts
and intellect, and it kind of leaves out a
whole other type of connection.
R: Yeah. And also, prioritizing the other
person's feelings. I think a lot of times, we
just think about it in a very general sense,
like whether I am saying something that
is hurtful or not-- but thinking about it in
a more individual way. Like, is it hurtful
to Jaime? Is it hurtful to Stephen? Given
the kind of person they are. Building up a
more personalized connection...
A: [What if we] consider something
Utopian in destruction. Embracing
something passionate within your anger,
something spontaneous. For me at least,
there is something Utopian, or at least
the possibility of something Utopian in
a destructive act. I think, it's obvious to
talk about building communities, and this
slowness and thoughtfulness...I think it's
worth exploring how the two can work
together.
MB: I've actually had a notion of a lot of
isolation, in some way, within a collective,
Utopian feeling. When you are sharing
this quite defined space or moment,
there are definitely a lot of people not
sharing it.
JI: I think that ties in with the fragility
somehow. When I think about these
spaces that I would describe as Utopian.
Some of them, especially in Berlin, in the
Hausprojekt, the former squatting scene,
there's very much a rhetoric of “us vs.
them,” that comes from a very real place
of being persecuted by the police, the
state, more or less. So I always think about
this outsider, insider thing, and how that
is manifested down to the tiniest detail,
in terms of aesthetics, and how that can
manifest in distrust of people who dress
or talk a certain way, and how that rupture
ripples across various alter-utopian
spaces in Berlin, where two spaces might
not even know about each other because
they have a different aesthetic, or view
each other as outside of their periphery...
but I think that the fragility-- when we
create a Utopian space or a space that's
kind of communizing resources in some
way, it's like a clearing. You have to clear
this default normative structure that's
been created, and that's like a weed
growing everywhere, you can't extract
yourself from it. So when we create these
spaces, it's like we clear a space, and that
periphery has to be somehow protected.
Therefore necessitating an inside and an
outside. And I don't know the degree to
which those are necessary.
GL: I sometimes conflate Utopia with
euphoria. And, one place that I can almost
always find euphoria is on a dance floor.
But that feeling of fragility and the idea
of having to clear that space to allow
the euphoria to happen is sometimes
confronted when you are in that magical
place of euphoria, and you open your
eyes and you notice that there's people
just like texting, or just standing against
the wall, looking at you like you're an
ape wearing a clown uniform, and that
can break that euphoria. And, I'm making
an analogy that might not be exactly
appropriate, but, the same thing, I think
can happen when people try to create
Utopia. And that clearing, like you were
saying, whenever things that are not
part of that Utopia are brought into that
space, it can disrupt the feeling that is at
least trying to be created, if not genuinely
being felt by the individuals that are
participating.
LR: But also, for Utopia as anarchist
societies. I think, that you will never
actually have a society that will be
perfectly anarchist, but I think that what
you can do, is apply in your every day life,
some anarchist principles, some utopian
principles, moving to that direction. The
problem with communities that try to
build up an anarchist approach or a
Utopian one, is that if people don't feel
that they can pop in for a cup of coffee,
even if they are on your side, if you lack
this openness, it will become insular. You
can't keep control of everything and all
the input that are coming, because we are
living in this society and you will have
people that want to watch TV. You will
have people that want to go and vote for
the referendum, and you will have people
that don't trust politicians anymore. But
all these things, they can co-habitate, in
the same place and stay together. And the
thing is that you have to stay open to this.
Because if you stay open, then you have
elderly women coming from the town
and popping up, bringing you candles,
because it's winter. And this is something,
where if you present yourself like a really
hard core activist, and you don't smile
to anyone and you don't talk to anyone,
then you will never help. So, I think this
is a Utopian approach-- that I don't want
a perfect Utopia, or a perfect anarchist
society, or the perfect anything-- because
I don't believe in perfection-- I want it to
be honest, and really open to everyone. It's
like all these anarchist circles in Italy, you
can't go there, you just can't join them,
because they are so elitist. But the thing
is, aren't we supposed to be talking about
anarchy that is for everyone? Cause like
according to me, everyone has a different
level of anarchy that they apply in their
own life, and that is what I find really
interesting about anarchy, is that you
can have everything in there, and there
is a place for everyone. But then you find
this circle, that doesn't allow you to come
and join them, and have a cup of tea. And
what's the point in having this circle? Go
stay in your house with your four friends.
The longer a place is going on with the
same people, the more complicated a
place starts to be, because you always
feel like, “oh these new people, what's
their intention? What do they want now?”
It should not be like this.
MB: There's actually some kind of
paradox in the idea of writing these
intentions on the wall. In putting up, or
formulating the intentions as writing on
the wall. Because, I think, the moments
that we thought, or felt were Utopian,
they were not written down.
LR: Actually, this morning, when there
was just “Intentions” there on the white
wall, I thought it was amazing. I thought
that it was meant to be like that, then I
remembered our conversation. That's the
clue though, because there's no right or
wrong. There's no instructions to do it.
JI: We don't have to write anything there.
utopiaschool.org
LR: It might be interesting to leave it
white.
Five Shades of Grass
Cameron Carrus
Five shades of grass
How many do you see?
I.
Sandy mud under yellowed toenails
Redistributes its salt
Through residential plains
On the way back to town
II.
Rusted rocks rounded by
Centuries of churned elements
Mere remnants of
Recollected time and place
III.
A teenager’s space
To drink alone
Curdled cans
Crushed and forgotten
IV.
Cloth, weathered by wind
Winds along to its next
Destination
Until next time
V.
Endless briny pasture
Turn turn, turn turn
Roll over death
To bring life to the living
Five shades of grass
How many do you see?
Patience, not Patients
Half fetishized, half demonized. Part angel, mostly alien.
I am an enigma, maybe even “the first one” you’ve known. I
fascinate, yet most maintain a healthy distance.
Family,
friends, strangers, lovers, collaborators - it’s not your fault
you have been conditioned to hate me, taught to subconsciously
mistrust those who challenge the gender binary, as transphobia
is present even in the safest of spaces. Long before Leelah
Alcorn threw herself in front of a moving tractor trailer we
knew that for most transgender individuals, those who are
closest to us have the most power to cultivate self hatred.
For many of us, our families were our first bullies, our first
bullets. There should be no safer space for a child than their
own home, and as a queer trans person, it’s vital to know where
I am unwelcome. Moving through the city of New York within
several scenes that fancy themselves radical, anarchist, or
even queer, It can be tough for me to discern the difference
between those who care about me and the individuals who fake
interest in attempt to disprove their own transphobia. If you
are friendly and engage me for just long enough, you have done
your radical anarchist service for the day. Congratulations;
you are now free to go about your bigot normalcy.
Despite the many facepalms, screaming into pillows, and tears
about how fucked up the world is on infinite levels, I’ve been
exploring the idea of patience. Patience for myself, patience for
friends and allies, patience for my enemies who are only human
and by nature make mistakes. We live in a racist, misogynist,
homophobic, transphobic, classist, ablelist, sizeist, etc &
etc world, and many of us (myself included) have quite a bit of
unlearning to do. That takes time. Even if only on the fringes
of it, we are members of a society that rewards us for our
hate. Having to come out over and over again, correct folks
when they misgender me, and constantly educating those around
me isn’t only a gigantic pain in the ass, I am potentially
risking my safety every time I do so. In cis/hetero spaces
I’ve been violently threatened for being me, but when I am
misgendered, asked inappropriate questions about my body or my
transition in a space where I expect to feel safe and accepted,
anger, no matter how justified, won’t lead to a productive
learning experience. I try and remember that less than a decade
ago I had only a vague idea of what a transgender person was.
Although it’s difficult to have patience for things that are
inherently fucked up, I am grateful to live in a city with so
many out trans people and allies. I know that I am not alone.
You may be asking yourself, “hey Ris ! Thank you for this
illuminating insight, but how can I be less of a transphobic
bigot?” Or maybe you’re comfortable with where you are. I wish
it were as easy as me, a trans person, telling you what to
do and how to act and then this whole mess would just resolve
itself, but it’s a bit complex. Every trans person is different
and even in the trans community there exists internalized
transphobia. We have a lot to learn, and more importantly, to
unlearn. For now, give me a big hug when we see each other,
respect my pronouns, don’t ask me questions about my cock, and
we’ll be OK <3
Prayer for Saturday Night
This is a prayer for all those out this Saturday night; for those who
will have fun and for those who will be lonely (and those who, having
fun, are still lonely); for those who will reconnect with old friendships;
for those who will be with the familiar and for those who will be
surrounded by strangers; for those who will get a friendly smile from
a stranger's face and for those who won't; for those who will find love
and for those who will search; for those who will be stressed worrying
what people think about them; for those on the road, travelling and
for those who are vulnerable/poor/marginalised/unsafe/trapped; for
those worrying about waking up early for work; for those who will get
too drunk and those who are too poor to get drunk; for those who will
entertain danger to fill the emptiness and for those who will grow
from doing something they have never done before. You are loved.
Nathan Peter McDonnell
nathan.mcdonnell@ymail.com
JOBS
Failure Is Wonderful
When I speak to people about cooperative living, they often listen politely and then
cite a failed situation—with a roommate or cumbersome decision-making process—as
proof that the concept is wholly unviable. These responses are not surprising because
we have been taught to experience instances of failure as holistic failures.
For anyone who has experienced typical K-to-12 schooling, s/he knows an aversion to
failure is deeply ingrained. Failure is to be fiercely avoided, because to fail in school
is to fail as a person. It means being kicked off the only possible road to success.
Failure is made an identity, assigned to those thought to have no potential, and with
no thought given to the circumstances and tasks at which one has failed.
Anyone picking up a zine about cooperative living in Brooklyn might see: A failed
geo-political philosophy. Failures to ensure justice. A failed healthcare system. The
failures of capitalism. Failure to protect the biosphere. And, for me, most significantly,
the failure of our educational systems to educate.
Yet how often are these experiences called failures? Instead of acknowledging the
root cause of a problem, we frequently stop at the symptom. We rearrange, relabel,
neatly name and contain issues within the context of broken frameworks. While
fingers get pointed and blame is passed around, these structures stand as seemingly
permanent fixtures. Why? For fear of failure. The underlying ideology—be it capitalism,
hierarchy or extractivism—is never allowed to fail. But until it is, the lessons of these
failures will remain unexplored, and their solutions—cooperative, non-hierarchical,
regenerative—unrealized.
Our relationship to failure must change.
It is clear, whether looking at evolutionary biology, social entrepreneurship, or the very
fabric of our lives, that failure is a fundamental building block of success. More species
have failed than are alive today; more businesses have failed than are present. If we
are honest, we know many of our friendships, romances, and brilliant ideas will fail in
one way or another. And when they do, we will learn something; probably something
more valuable than anything the compulsory education system could ever teach us.
East Harlem, 2012: A democratic free school failed. But by the following year,
something new was growing in its place. An intentional community began to coalesce,
both inspired and warned by the failures that we, its members, had experienced.
We took lessons from free schools and co-ops and Quakers. We took lessons from
innovators creating tools to facilitate collaboration at the speed of tech development.
We took (and are currently taking) lessons from our own lives: noticing the skills we
have had to teach ourselves in order to live and work cooperatively, and making sure
those are the skills we teach our children. We became the Agile Learning Center and
we are working to redefine education.
Through the use of open source tools and practices developed to facilitate cocreation and collaboration, we are preparing our students—and ourselves—with the
skills needed to take care of each other. Our tools often resemble games, developed
to be used, but also to be adapted, morphed, and hacked. Our hope is that these
games will continually fail in new and interesting ways, with each failure making
them stronger or presenting an opportunity to create new, currently unimaginable
games. By practicing intentionality and collaboration together, we hope to raise self-
directed learners prepared to live and work in harmony with others.
This is one of the lessons we’re living and sharing: that failure is wonderful. It’s
wisdom. It’s possibility. It’s an invitation to grow and play and build something new.
Which is, of course, more fun to do together.
If you want to play with us…
drew@agilelearn.org
http://alf.agilelearningcenters.org
“The Horror!”
Sarah Gallina
A brief exploration of the political dimensions and possibilities of collective houses.
Are collective houses political? After
dedicating 10 years to living in, creating,
studying, and discussing collectives, I
believe the answer is mixed: a veritable
yes and no. From this discussion an
exploration of the political possibilities
of collective houses follows.
Politics are inherently conflictual. They
are the point of tension between various
and often competing groups, or classes,
who compete and clash in pursuit of their
needs, wants and desires—essentially,
their self interest. To be involved in
politics, then, is to be engaged in the
conflict of asserting your own selfinterest with and/or against others. Much
of the source of 'politics as conflict' is
the class based society in which we live,
where the rich have so much power to
implement their self interest at the
expense of the poor (in this country for
sure, yet more tragically so on a global
scale). To not be engaged in politics, then,
means that another group or individual
will assert their self interest while yours
are tossed aside. Essentially, you do
politics or they are done to you.
According to this definition, are
collectives engaged in politics? Internally,
the answer is yes, I believe. There exists
a healthy tension or conflict that arises
when individual collectivists must
reconcile their self-interests with the
interests of the whole of the collective.
This is carried out through a more or
less formalized decision-making process,
usually consensus. This healthy conflict is
a prime example, or microcosm, of what
is defined as politics above.
This phenomenon is extremely important
in a society where “democracy,” officially
conceived, rarely extends beyond the
banal and ineffectual act of voting,
if even. An overwhelming majority of
people are never taught the skills to
effectively and meaningfully participate
in any political process—thus they are
subject to the whims and self interest of
the most powerful. By living collectively,
individuals and collectives develop their
self-interests, and through this process,
learn the necessary skills to engage in
their collectives as political actors.
However, the internal political nature
of collectives rarely extends beyond
the front door. This is where the act of
living collectively ceases to be political.
While it is true that individuals within
collective houses tend to be more
politically engaged than the rest of the
population, there is no collective body or
'collective of collectives' that engages the
political realm on behalf of the interests
of collectives. Which is unfortunate
given that members of collectives could
constitute a potentially powerful political
group.
Collectives become political, according to
this definition, when two criteria are met:
the realization of their self-interests as
a collective body—a collective 'we'—and
then the pursuit of this self-interest in
the broader social and political realities
in which they are enmeshed.
Regarding possibilities, What might a
collective politics take up? And how do
collectives create power? Addressing
the last question first: Together we are
stronger. Generally speaking, there are
two sources of power: organized money
and organized people. Elites have
organized money, and so collectives
need to have organized people—a
feat collectives are particularly well
positioned to accomplish, if only our
political abilities were projected outside
our spaces. The main principle at work
here, is that the more we cooperate, the
more we increase our economic, political
and cultural power. In sum, the source of
our power is cooperation, solidarity, and
the ability to fight for our self interests—
and win.
Regarding the former question: Since
renter's collectives provide (more)
affordable housing, self interest could
intuitively focus on securing more
affordable housing. Political conflict in
this sense can take innumerable forms.
Here are a few half-baked, yet hopefully
illuminating, examples: if a collective
house is about to be foreclosed upon, an
organized mobilization team could form
a physical barrier in front of the space,
much like the squatting rights activists
did in Alphabet City throughout the 80s
and 90s (see the Museum of Reclaimed
Urban Space), and similar to some of
the actions of the Crown Heights Tenant
Union today.
Anti-gentrification struggles also seem
commonsense, though the terrain is
packed with contradictions. As mostly
white and disproportionately middle
class,
collectivists
simultaneously
contribute to, and are the victims of, this
process of violent displacement (though
the consequences of displacement
are far less violent for folks with lots
of privilege). Another possibility is for
collectivists to leverage their privilege
and power to access legal and legislative
channels to push for rent control or other
necessary changes.
Of course, these possibilities are mere
suggestions, and they are limited in
scope and imagination. The points of this
article, though, are to define politics as
conflict, to dispel any illusions that we
can ignore politics, and to shed light
on the immense political potential of
collective houses if only they are acted
upon.
Stephen Polk
The Feed is a zine produced by members of Smiling Hogshead Ranch, an
urban farm collective in Long Island City, Queens.
This is the first installment of what we hope will be an annual zine created in our
wintery downtime. The following is the introduction to issue #1, which is currently
in draft form. Contributors shall include Shirley Chai, Jennifer Plewka, Tricia Graham,
Megan Hovious, Dee Dee Maucher, Caetlynne Booth and edited by Gil Lopez.
In early 2011, ten New Yorkers rallied to improve an abandoned railroad property in
LIC, Queens. Cleaning, clearing and cultivating; Smiling Hogshead Ranch was created.
Our backstory is fraught with struggle and sprinkled with inspiration and success.
But The Feed is not a history, it is a continuation. We are community gardeners, we
cultivate community. Among us are organizers and educators, makers and doers. In
this work a resilient group has coalesced. Voices unearthed and leaders nurtured. Our
urban harvest feeds those hungry for this unique bounty.
All the while we continue clearing
the rubbish, enlivening the soil
and selecting future seeds. Among
these; nonconformity, reverence
for nature, self-respect, empathy
and collectivism. Propagating and
nursing our values alongside our
herbs, peppers, greens, berries, and
mushrooms. The stone soup we are
stewing is a hearty one, sticking to
the bones of our cultural milieu with
aplomb.The Feed is our method of
broadcasting these seeds beyond our
occupied land in Western Queens.
You hold in your hand an enzymatic
decoder that can help activate your being and begin breaking apart the substrate of
the sick culture we all exist within. Don't be fooled, this is no anarchist cookbook,
but read deeply and don't forget to breath! If you have visited our garden, you may
have caught a glimpse of the mycorrhizal networks we co-create at The Ranch to
help decompose leaf litter and the toxic legacy of our industrial past. Read along and
you will see how those fungal processes relate to the awakening of our own lives
and minds, working quietly and continuously, to dismantle the consumer culture and
unhealthy worldview we are sold on every channel and billboard.
It is important to have our feet in the street, pounding the pavement in solidarity
against injustice. But we must not simply overcome our oppressors ideology. We must
also create and live the alternative realities, models and norms we promote. For this
to happen, it is imperative we feed our heads and nourish healthy culture. Steep in the
ideas presented here and know, beneath the frozen and paved-over ground, the Earth
awaits. Beyond the introspect Winter, must come the action of Spring. Read and breath
deeply, then come toil in the sun and soil with us. The reward is not only literal fruits
of our collective labor, they are knowledge of self, empathy towards the other and the
realization of our shared existence.
In Peas & SOILdarity,
The Smiling Hogshead Ranch Crew
www.SmilingHogsheadRanch.org
Introduction to The Feed submitted by Gil Lopez January 2015
Spaces
/ contact / features & resources
Listed Alphabetically
While we are active members of many of the spaces listed below, and many of us are excited by them, Greater Brooklyn does not speak for them.
Spaces marked [HOUSE] are both homes and venue spaces. You are welcome
to these spaces when they are hosting events (see the events page) or open
hours for communal services. The other spaces include venues, organizations,
businesses, non-profits, and collectives.
319 Scholes--Bushwick / 319 Scholes Street, 11206 / 319scholes.org / info@319scholes.org
3B Bed & Breakfast--Downtown BK / 136 Lawrence Street, 11201 / info@3bBK.com / 347-762-2632
The A La Mode--Bed-stuy / Metal Shop, Free Store / walworthst@gmail.com [house]
ABC Bookkeeping Collective--bookkeeping.coop / info@bookkeeping.coop /
financial, payroll, accounting, tax, budgeting, financial aid for coops
The Base--Bushwick / 1302 Myrtle Avenue, 11221 / thebasebk.org / anarchist, mutual aid, storefront, public events, class, workshops, talks, organizing meetings, film screenings, goods exchange
Bike Yard-- Williamsburg / Havemeyer Park / pop-up co-operative bike repair / bikeyard.org
Bizarre Bushwick--Bushwick / bizarrebushwick@gmail.com / bizarrebushwick.com / bar, events, weird
Body Actualized--Bushwick / 143 Troutman Street / info@bodyactualized.
org / (347) 770-1437
Bohemian Grove--Bushwick / house venue / [House]
The Brecht Forum-- 388 Atlantic Ave / a cultural and educational center for people who are working for social justice, equality and a new culture that puts human needs first / brechtforum.org
Bromley House--Kensigton/Ditmas Park / shows, performances, dancing [house]
Brooklyn Urban Dzong--Prospect Heights / www.facebook.com/
BrooklynUrbanDzong / [House]
Bushwick Food Coop--Bushwick / 2 Porter Ave, 11237 / bushwickfoodcoop.
wordpress.com / (347) 450-1087
Cargo Bike Collective--Bushwick/Bed-stuy / (347) 620-3392 / Bikes, messengers, mutual aid, sustainable, community garden, transportation, teamwork, upcycled, tools
The Commons Brooklyn-- 388 Atlantic Ave
Divine House--Clinton Hill / [house]
Fixers Collective--Gowanus / 543 Union Street Brooklyn, NY 11215 / Fixing, repair, electronics, machines / fixerscollective.org
Flux Factory (Queens)--Long Island City / 39-31 29th Street, Long Island City, New York 11101 / artist residency program, gallery, print shop
Floasis--Bushwick
Greene Hill Food Coop--Bedstuy / 138 South Oxford Street, 11217 / greenehillfood.coop / info@greenehillfood.coop
Ho_se--28 Lawton Street / music, performance-art, backyard garden space, DIY, potlucks, meeting space / [house]
House of Screwball--Bushwick / screwballdiva@gmail.com / events, tarot, palm reading / [house]
Koz Collective--Bed-stuy / 268 Kosciuszko Street / 268koz@gmail.com / art, backyard, freegan, front yard garden, dumpster excess sharing, bikes & bike repair, artist residency program / [house]
Interference Archive--Park Slope / 131 8th Street No. 4, 11215 / info@
interferencearchive.org / seminars, lectures, exhibits, educational
The Jalopy Theatre--Red Hook / 315 Columbia Street / jalopy.biz / 718.395.3214 / music & lessons, events, old time, dance, fun, drinks
Lincoln Center--Prospect Heights / [house]
Living Gallery--Bushwick / 1094 Broadway, 11221 / TheLivingGallery@
gmail.com / art gallery, community space, backyard, yoga, drawing classes, kids programs, music venue, event rental space, community workshops
Mad Acronym Society--okcupid.com/profile/mashouse / mutual aid, anarchist, freegan, bikes, DIY / [house]
Meerkat Media Collective--DUMBO / 10 Jay Street Suite 720, Brooklyn, NY 11201 / meerkats@meerkatmedia.org / meerkatmedia.org / media, video, photography, documentary, film
Mellow Pages Library--Bushwick / 56 Bogart St. 1S / mellowpageslibrary.
com / 206 459 1358 / library, books, events
NYC Experimental Vocal Collective--Bedstuy/Bushwick / facebook.com/
NYCEVC / vocal, experimental, dance, art, weirdness
OWS Screenprinters--Prospect Heights / 522 Bergen Street / owsscreenprinters.com
Park Slope Food Coop--Park Slope / 782 Union St, 11215 / foodcoop.com / (718) 622-0560
People’s Puppets of OWS Studio--Dumbo / 20 Jay St. #214 / powertothepuppets@gmail.com / Art, justice, cooperative, puppetry, collective, art studio for the revolution
Quincy House--host radical/queer events and gatherings / [house]
Radix Media--Prospect Heights / 522 Bergen Street, 11217 / info@
radixmedia.org / 718.781.5947 / offset, digital, printing, design, worker coop, graphic design
The School of Making Thinking--Williamsburg / Metropolitan Ave & Leonard St. / theschoolofmakingthinking@gmail.com / experimental, artists, thinking, college, classes, artist residency
Secret Project Robot--Bushwick / 389 Melrose Street, 11237 / (917) 860-
8282 / secrets@secretprojectrobot.org
Silent Barn--Bushwick / 603 Bushwick Avenue
Third Root Community Health Center--Flatbush / 380 Marlborough Road, 11226 / thirdroot.org / 718-940-9343 / info@thirdroot.org / health center, social justice, community, queer, herbal education classes, space rental, income-based sliding scale: yoga, acupuncture, massage, and herbal medicine
Times Up!--Williamsburg / 99 S 6th St, 11211 / (212) 802-8222 / bikes, donation-based workshops & clinics, 501c3
Treehaus--Bed-stuy / tree-haus@googlegroups.com / reading groups, dance parties, compost, backyard, chickens, bulk, bikes / [house]
The Working World--Manhattan / 228 Park Ave S #27395, New York, NY 10003 / 646-257-4144, organization support, 501c3
THE GREATER BROOKLYN ZINE COLLECTIVE
January 2015