My City was Gone

I saw Flaming Pablum's click-traffic get a nice jolt this week when a post of mine was picked up by The New York Times' City Room blog. Within a larger article about – oddly enough – the dubious practice of bringing babies into Brooklyn bars, I was invoked as an example of someone who indulges in nostalgic whims. Fair enough, I can live with that. I've never resisted the nostalgia tag as it applies to this weblog. The post they were referring to was my rumination on the summer of 1992, a period of time that seems simultaneously recent and hazily distant. I don't think I needlessly wallow in nostalgia, but by the same token, I can't imagine that even the most hardened of stoics can ignore all the changes -- both positive & negative -- that have taken place in New York City and not think back to earlier times. But again, maybe I'm just too sentimental and feeling my oats, so to speak.

In a similar vein, I received a note from a reader last week that has found me struggling for the proper response. Assuming it's not just a wind-up, "Ilia" writes:

Nice blog! the music is really good! All i know about NYC is from the movie downtown 81, liquid sky... and similar... i got the pleasure of knowing Michael Holman and Maripol, i think they were ruling the NYC's scene in the 80's. i am 23 i am trying to be an artist, but here in europe it seems to be so hard... i saw downtown 81 it really really inspired me... Is new york still that openminded? i mean would it be hard for a young artist to enter in the community? what's it like?! i'd like to bring those times back! I have this feeling that moving to nyc is gonna change my life... am i wrong?

The jaded curmudgeon in me wants to say that the fabled, fetishized and fertile NYC of 1981 is dead and gone, but I should also probably qualify that by pointing out that in 1981, I was a gormless high school putz and not a hepcat Mudd Club regular. That said, I believe it's fair to assert that unfortunate truth that New York City – or at least Manhattan – is probably the LAST place you should come to be an artist. While I too continue to celebrate them, the "open minded" days are over. If you can find a way to successfully "bring those times back," I'm all for it, but don't come here expecting the wild frontier of Jean-Michel Basquiat et al. Their Manhattan is but a memory.

I can't speak for Brooklyn, though. The bohemian paradise you seek – or the closest approximation thereof – may be waiting for you there, but you'd better hurry up. It's going fast.