I think the first real indication of encroaching change to downtown Manhattan I started noticing was the gradual dissipation of public art. I don't mean the street art and graffiti that formerly adorned every nook and cranny of Soho (although most of that's going too), but rather the large, wall-sized murals that used to be everywhere. Back in the 80s, the Western end of Broome Street featured a massive replica of "The Mona Lisa" (you can spot it fleetingly in the arguably ludicrous Christopher Lambert vehicle, "Highlander"). Just a few blocks away at the Southern end of 6th Avenue, there was a visually striking crucifixion tableaux that loomed over The Moondance Diner (both the painting and the diner are gone now). At the crossroads of Bleeker and LaFayette, there were murals splashed all over the walls. One of my favorites is actually still there -- a strangely pixilated portrait of a man's face adorning a seemingly random wall up high on Prince Street, just east of Mott. I always thought it looked a bit like an Asian Ben Franklin, but there's no explanation anywhere in sight. I love that.
Sometime in the 90s, however, someone decided that these and countless other stretches of colorfully painted brick would better serve as prime advertising space. In swift order, the sprawling paintings vanished, replaced my massive billboards selling Absolut Vodka or Camel Lights or ____ [insert vacuous consumer product here]. Walking around these streets suddenly felt akin to living in a giant magazine.
Another one of my favorite murals was the massive "Gringo" portrait that loomed over St Marks Place. You could see it from as far back as Broadway. I'm somewhat fuzzy on the backstory, but as I understand it (and please write in if you can clarify), "Gringo" was the nickname of a notorious neighborhood junkie named John Spacely, who sported a striking blonde quiff and an eyepatch. There's actually a documentary on the man (put out by Troma films of "Toxic Avenger" fame). I don't know which came first -- the mural or the film. Perhaps the mural above St. Marks was a promotional vehicle on the documentary's behalf. Or perhaps it was simply someone's tribute to one of the `hood's colorful Punk Rock characters. Regardless of its origins, it completely captured St Marks' (long, long gone) mystique for me. As time went on, the specifics of its origin became somewhat irrelevant. However idealistically, "Gringo" visually signified the entrance of the East Village's bohemian frontier for me.
I took the above picture of the "Gringo" mural sometime in the Spring of 1999. Shortly afterwards, in keeping with the afore-mentioned trend, the owners of the building decided to paint over "Gringo" with a pale field of white, appending a sign soliciting advertising dollars. I remember being truly bummed at the time. By some bittersweet turn of fate, however, the advertising never showed up. It remained just another anonymous bland wall for the next several years, in much the same way the character of St Marks Place became similarly innocuous. The other morning, after dropping my daughter off at school near Astor Place, I glanced up at "Gringo"'s former roost and noticed a single word written somewhat ominously in his stead. For all I know, this bit of graffiti may have been there for months, but I just haven't noticed. I'm projecting, of course, but from my perspective, the word in question somewhat tragically encapsulates how I feel about what's happening to the neighborhood in general. The word is "Muerte".
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