“Gowanus Current” Makes World Premier at Cobble Hill Cinemas

The title scene of of the new documentary “Gowanus Current,” which debuted at Cobble Hill Cinemas last week.

By JACK DELANEYjdelaney@queensledger.com

It was 2013 — the word “selfie” was freshly added to the dictionary, a new pope was being named, and gay marriage had yet to be legalized — when Jamie Courville and Chris Reynolds first realized something unsettling. 

“We lived in Gowanus, and we were both film people by profession,” Courville recalled. “We [were] at Douglas and Third, and there was a residential building at the end of the block that was demolished, and we couldn’t remember what it was. And then you notice that you can’t remember a lot.”

So that year, the couple began capturing footage of a neighborhood in flux. The force driving many of the changes — evidenced by the constant clang of construction — was the proposed rezoning of Gowanus, which spawned a frenzy of real estate speculation while pitching residents into a heated battle over plans to add roughly 9,000 units of housing across an unprecedented 82 blocks, 20 more than at Hudson Yards. They were there, cameras in hand, when remediation began on the notoriously polluted Gowanus Canal, and watched as the industrial wasteland, once billed as a scrappy haven for artists, gradually transformed. 

A decade later, Courville and Reynolds were ready to release the product of those observations: a documentary called “Gowanus Current,” which premiered at Cobble Hill Cinemas on April 2 to a sold-out crowd. 

Sitting down for coffee two weeks before the grand debut, the duo said they were excited yet also anxious about the screening — in part because the seats would largely be filled by the movie’s own characters, locals with strong opinions about the rezoning and how events unfolded. In making the film, they had chosen to eschew interviews, letting the footage speak for itself rather than advancing an overarching argument. How would that choice go over?

In short: very well. For this reporter, who grew up two blocks from the canal, part of the movie’s draw was the opportunity to revisit the contentious history of the 2021 rezoning, at a time when similar dynamics are shaping the proposed redevelopment of the Brooklyn Marine Terminal in Red Hook. 

But as the lights dimmed and the screen filled with long, slow shots of places now gone or unrecognizable, the power of simply bearing witness became clear. Based on post-screening conversations with fellow theatergoers, many Carroll Gardens and Gowanus locals felt similarly: the opening scenes —  a clump of people protesting to save the now-dismantled Kentile Floors sign, or construction workers going about their jobs — could potentially seem mundane to residents of other neighborhoods. For this crowd, however, they were magical.

After the screening, Xochitl Gonzalez led a Q&A with “Gowanus Current” co-creators Jamie Courville and Chris Reynolds.

“I lived at Evans and Wyckoff for about four years while all this was happening,” one attendee said later. “I’d completely forgotten that entire stretch of Nevins between Butler and Union, basically. I didn’t realize how emotionally it would affect me just to see all that again. It was like I’d gone into a memory box.” 

After the credits rolled, Courville and Reynolds were joined by Xochitl Gonzalez, a staff writer at the Atlantic, for a Q&A. In answering one of Gonzalez’s questions, Reynolds also highlighted the subjective aspect of rezonings. “One thing that’s left out of the discussion, whether you’re in favor of building more or you’re opposed to it, is the emotional effect of seeing your neighborhood go away,” he said. “You can be in favor of all this building and still be sorry at what has to go away to make room for it.”

Accordingly, while “Gowanus Current” does serve as a good primer for viewers who aren’t familiar with the neighborhood’s political history, the filmmakers prioritized immersion. “It’s not important to know the title of this person, or what this meeting is exactly about,” argued Reynolds. “The important thing is, where’s the power? What are the community’s options, and how does it feel to participate?”

After Gonzalez delved into the techniques employed by Courville and Reynolds in filming the documentary, she broached the broader context of the Gowanus rezoning. “Which of the promises that were given to the neighborhood have come to pass?” she asked. “And what are people still waiting on?”

At that point, Pandora’s Box flew open. “Public Place is, I hear, behind schedule,” started Reynolds, referring to the only fully affordable housing development that was included in the rezoning, before a voice from the back of the theater rang out: “Not happening!” That prompted a response from Andrea Parker, executive director of the Gowanus Canal Conservancy and one of the key brokers of the plan, who said that remediation of the site — which sits atop a 150-foot-deep pocket of coal tar — is underway. 

One woman spoke about the continuing pollution in the canal, and lamented the size of the nearby condos: “Last night, there was a reflection in the 24-story building across the street of the moon,” she said. “It was the first time in two years that I had seen the moon over the canal, and it was just a reflection.” 

“Every day we look out and see cranes for the development that’s going up,” a man echoed. “That’s the second new [building] that’s going to block out all of the sunlight, kill all my plants completely.”

Tensions flared when Parker then defended the decision-making that led to market-rate residential towers being green-lit in exchange for systemic repairs of NYCHA’s Gowanus Houses. “When filming started, the neighborhood was not yet gentrified,” she said. “Gentrification happened along the way. It was not a result of the rezoning. It was a result of being sandwiched between Carroll Gardens and Park Slope, well connected with transit.”

A view of the Gowanus Canal from the Third Street Bridge, circa 2025.

“There was never a right answer to what should happen in Gowanus,” continued Parker. “There are very strong feelings and opinions and different ways of living, and we try to work together to figure out compromises.”

Parker’s assurances triggered a rebuttal from poet and Gowanus Dredgers veteran Brad Vogel, in turn, who shot back that the repairs should never have been tied to the rezoning, but should have been carried out by the city years ago. “You forced people to think that if they were against the rezoning, they were against public housing,” he said, to a smattering of applause.

Michael Higgins Jr., a former member of Gowanus Neighborhood Coalition for Justice (GNCJ), backed Parker. “On the one hand, you could say that it wasn’t bad to connect funding for public housing to this rezoning,” he replied. But he noted that “there wasn’t much effort to do that before this process.”

“It’s fine to be cynical and unhappy with the way this [rezoning] is,” he added. “I don’t think it’s okay to fight for the perfect, push away the good, and get nothing, because that’s what happened in Gowanus for many years.”

Ultimately, these debates may be forgotten, as locals age or move away. In its own way — through languid shots of the churning water, brief glimpses of community meeting skirmishes, and a visual record of the built environment — “Gowanus Current” is an attempt to resist that entropy, stirring memories and fostering discussions. For Gonzalez, that effect was especially potent in a good, old-fashioned movie theater. 

“It’s not just the scale. It’s being with people, and feeling what people are feeling around you,” Gonzalez said. “I found it beautiful at home, but what I felt in the theater was [that] I was given contemplative space.” 

If you missed the last screening, you can watch “Gowanus Current” when it shows again at Cobble Hill Cinemas at 7:30 pm on Wednesday, April 23rd. 

Alicia Eggert’s New Show at Urban Glass is (Literally) Powered by Connection

BY ALICE MORENO | news@queensledger.com

It is often said that “it takes a village to raise a child” — however, the quote transcends taking care of children. Community is what drives the world; It is not possible to tackle the world’s issues on our own. More than ever, humans long for connection, and Alicia Eggert provides that with her art, bringing people together to illuminate a darkly-lit room with flashing lights and colorful lighting. 

At UrbanGlass — a nonprofit organization working with Glass-centric artists located in Downtown Brooklyn — Eggert’s work is displayed. The exhibition, titled “At a Time Like This,” features two of her works: a giant neon sign with the words “You Are Magic” displayed, and a mirror displaying the words “All the Light You See is From the Past.”

The main event of the exhibition is “You Are Magic,” a giant sign that takes over most of the exhibition hall. It is filled with over 200 neon and LED light bulbs, 

The catch is, the sign is completely turned off. To turn it on, two humans must touch each other while pressing on the sensor in the provided platform for the sign to turn on. Whether it’d be hand-holding, or even placing two fingers together, the sign illuminates into a magical light show, where the sign changes into different colors while a soothing and angelic voice plays in the background. The lights flash faster and faster as each minute passes, and reach a climax towards the end, displaying the colors brightly, reminding guests that they too, are magical.

Eggert’s reasoning for this tactic is a scientific fact: humans are conductive, containing electrical charges flowing through their bodies. They function as circuits, and as humans come in physical contact with one another, it functions similarly to a light switch. 

“I thought, ‘Wow, how cool is that?’ That one person can touch one surface that has a small electrical current coming out of it, and another person can touch another surface that’s the ground,” said Eggert. “And then, if we touch hands in the middle, we are like a switch, [and] that electricity actually flows through our bodies.”

The Texas-based conceptual artist had previously displayed this piece, except as an inflatable instead of using lights. Using a similar concept of touch being used as a circuit, as two (or more) people join together, the piece would inflate, showing the same words currently displayed at UrbanGlass. It was first exhibited in Arlington, Virginia in 2018. 

Across from the signage is another one of Eggert’s work — a small yet mighty piece that reflects on the passage of time, urging the audience to take in the present. Titled “All the Light You See is From the Past,” the piece uses an infinity mirror — two parallel mirrors placed together — that gives the illusion of a never-ending, infinite loop. 

The lights flash three times in two-second intervals, each time with a different meaning. At first, it says “All the Light You See is From the Past.” It then diverges into the sentence “All You See is Past,” and at the end, it turns off completely. 

Eggert’s work is never static; it is three-dimensional, always present, and constantly moving—much like the passage of time. Each time the wording changes, the message shifts as well, illustrating that in a brief moment, anyone’s life can change drastically. 

“I read an article once that was in the New York Times, it was titled, ‘Don’t let them tell you you’re not at the center of the universe,’ and it was all about the way that light travels across space [and] time and the way that we receive it in our eyes,” said Eggert. “How light takes time to travel, like everything we’re looking at with our eyes is technically an image of the past, and it could be like from across the room. It’s just a split second in the past.”

With an interest in philosophy and growing up in an Evangelical household, Eggert is constantly thinking about the human experience and mortality. She notes that life feels linear — humans live a specific timeline, growing from a child, to an adult, to an elder, and at some point, will reach to an inevitable end.  

In a world in which anything can change in the blink of an eye, Eggert notes that it is important to live life to the fullest. As her work will live on to future generations, she hopes to continue creating art that leads viewers to accept the timeline of their lives, reminding them to enjoy every second of it

“Ultimately, these [art pieces] that I’m making are a part of the world, and they are changing and breaking down over time. So I think [that] part of my goal as an artist is to like, make work that allows us to like accept that,” said Eggert.

“Alica Eggert: At a Time Like This” will be exhibiting at UrbanGlass, 647 Fulton Street, through May 4. 

Spotlight: Melissa Dimas, Basketball Coach Extraordinaire

By ELEANOR TRAUBMAN | etraubman@gmail.com

Melissa Dimas, SFX Youth Sports – Brooklyn Girls Basketball Coach and Finalist in the Brooklyn Basketball Jr. NBA/WNBA Coach of the Year Program, started the first official all-girls basketball league in Central Brooklyn. She initially created the league for her daughters: Her younger daughter wanted to play basketball when she was in the 1st grade at a time when there were not many structured opportunities for girls to play. That same daughter joined a co-ed team where she was one of the team’s best players and yet the male players would not pass the ball to her. As Melissa shared, “There are plenty of co-ed programs, but some girls, as they get older, drop out of coed programs for various reasons.” The program is for girls ages 7-14.Dimas has been nominated for Brooklyn Basketball Coach of the Year via The Jr NBA/WNBA Coach of the Year program. This program “celebrates coaches that honor the game and create a lasting impact on young people both on and off the court.”

Shared a neighbor of Melissa’s: “Melissa started the SFX Girls Basketball League and in just a few short seasons, she has grown it to 400 girls! | have seen the way the girls grow and learn and gain confidence being in this safe sports space; we are so lucky for her leadership. She’s also a generous member of the community and is the first to lend a hand when anyone needs her.” Melissa conveys that having community organizing skills as a former Peace Corps volunteer came in handy when putting together the league. She was excited to add that there are even paid opportunities for teens to help out with jobs such as running the score boards.“The skills learned in team sports translate to other areas of life,” she added. “And being part of a team is a great way to build community and a sense of belonging in a neighborhood. It’s important that you belong to something outside of school, whether it’s basketball, soccer, or a musical production. It’s important to feel like you’re part of something that ultimately connects you to your neighbors.”

Eleanor Traubman is the Founder of My Local Heroes, which lives on both Facebook and Instagram. MLH is a celebration of activists, artists, athletes and entrepreneurs from Brooklyn and beyond who are working to make their communities better places to live. Launched during the pandemic, The project was featured in News12 and The Patch, and received a Covid-19 Heroes Award from the former Brooklyn Borough President. This article is part of a series of posts Eleanor is writing about community leaders and their take on local community involvement.

A Prohibition-Era Law Bans Wine from NYC Supermarkets. This Coalition Wants to Overturn It.

Signs created by “The New York State of Wine” coalition advocating for the sale of wine in grocery stores are featured in grocery stores statewide. Photo courtesy Tops Friendly Market

BY NICHOLAS GORDONng639@georgetown.edu

Over a dozen grocery store owners have banded together to form the “New York State of Wine” coalition in an effort to help pass new legislation legalizing the sale of wine in grocery stores in the state of New York. And the liquor stores—the grocery stores’ long-running adversaries on the issue—are still pushing back. The standoff stems from a prohibition-era restriction that has remained in place through the years, making New York one of ten states that does not permit the sale of wine in grocery stores. Now, new legislation is pending for a change in the law favoring the grocers.

“The ‘New York State of Wine’ coalition was set up because we think that selling wine in New York’s grocery stores would be a win-win for everybody in the industry,” said Nelson Eusebio, the Director of Government Affairs for the National Supermarket Association (NSA), which represents over 500 supermarkets in New York City. “It would create more jobs for the vineyards and wineries, and increase the need for more delivery drivers and warehouse workers to handle packing, storage, and shipments. And it would add tax dollars on wine to the coffers of New York.”

Owing to New York’s abundance of wineries and vineyards, Eusebio said that the state is well-suited to expand its wine-selling capacity. “New York is a state that grows grapes and produces wines on a large scale,” Eusebio said. “It would be a big boon for a lot of wineries in the Finger Lakes and East End (of Long Island) regions if grocery stores get wine on their shelves.”

Boasting over 450 wineries, New York is the third largest wine-producing state in the country. The wine and grape business contributes nearly 80,000 jobs, and generates an annual economic impact of over $6 billion from grape growing and wine sales, according to research done by John Dunham & Associates in 2023, commissioned by the New York Wine & Grape Foundation.

New York state Sen. Liz Krueger has resubmitted proposed legislation to grant grocers wine-selling licenses that would require them to pay an annual fee based on total wine sales, exempting New York wines from the total to boost the sales from the state’s vineyards. The bill would limit the licenses for wine sales to full-service grocery stores with a minimum of 65% sales on food and at least 5,000 square feet of retail space.

Eusebio said that the majority of the grocery stores he represents are independently-owned by first and second generation immigrant families who work on the premises with their relatives to keep their business going.

“We sympathize with the liquor stores and we understand them because we’re in a similar position with many small business owners, but I don’t feel the liquor stores would be hurt by the new legislation,” Eusebio said.

Wine on display at Greenpoint Wine & Liquor in Brooklyn. Photo by Adrian Serowik

Adrian Serowik, manager of Greenpoint Wine & Liquor in Brooklyn, said that a large volume of his store’s sales come from wine, due to the fact that liquor stores are able to work with a network of different wine distributors and suppliers, whereas most of his friends in the liquor store business work with the same carriers for spirit sales.

“Right now our customers count on us selling wine, and we’re making money from wine sales,” Serowik said. “If New York passes this legislation, people will choose to go to supermarkets for their wine and we’ll lose a lot of business. It’s going to kill the liquor stores as small business owners.”

An estimated 90 percent of the roughly 2200 wine and liquor stores currently operating in New York City are listed as single-owner businesses. 

Over the last two decades, congressional bills supporting wine-selling in grocery stores have been met with continued pushback from New York’s wine and spirits retailers, which has effectively nullified the bills, leaving the current law intact. 

While the new bill has garnered bipartisan support, some lawmakers and critics, side with the small liquor stores, citing the opening of the mega-store Total Wine Spirits & More in Westbury in 2017, which they claim has hurt the business of small liquor and wine retailers. 

The New York State Liquor Authority (SLA), which regulates the sale of alcohol in the state, has denied additional retail license applications by Total Wine to open new stores in New York, citing an existing saturation of wine and spirits stores.

SLA declined to comment for this article on the pending legislation for selling wine in grocery stores.

Recent polling by Siena College shows that over 75% of New York voters strongly support allowing grocery stores to sell wine.

“When people go grocery shopping they want more purchasing power to explore different wines and buy wine that matches their recipes and what they’re eating,”  Eusebio said. “We’re in the business of selling food, and wine and food are a marriage made in heaven.”

Haiti Cultural Exchange Hosts Flag Making Masterclass in Crown Heights

Mireille Delice (center right, wearing grey and blue) runs through her method for creating flags as attendees watch. Photo by Jack Delaney

By JACK DELANEY | jdelaney@queensledger.com

Mireille Delice had taken a winding path to arrive here, in this gallery in Crown Heights, with a crowd of people peering over her shoulder as she sewed a brand new flag.

Delice studied the techniques of flag making in the 1980s alongside her cousin, with whom she worked at a wedding dress factory in Port-au-Prince, Haiti’s capital. When the factory closed, however, she experienced a series of dreams, which culminated in a message: “I did not have to work in the factory,” she told HAND/EYE Magazine, “but I could learn to work for myself and earn for my family.” At age 25, she officially began her life as an independent artist — and would go on to build the corpus of colorfully sequined flags that now brought her to Brooklyn. 

After a successful run, the recent exhibit “Sacred Banners of Haitian Vodou,” organized by nonprofit Haiti Cultural Exchange and curated by Axelle Liautaud, closed on March 9 with a tutorial by Delice, drawing dozens of community members who were curious to witness her process. The show featured more than 15 artists, such as Rudy Azor and Maxon Scylla, with work spanning over 40 years; red dots — meaning “SOLD” — sat under most of the pieces. 

But the walls, though full, were marked by absence: two years ago, Liautaud lost almost all of her lifelong collection of Haitian artwork, after a fire claimed the building in which most of the pieces were held. And local residents and gallery staff alike repeatedly referenced the political violence currently occurring in Haiti, which prevented several artists from attending.

“Grand Bois,” by Rudy Azor. Photo by Jack Delaney

Despite those grim asterisks, the breadth of work in HCX’s gallery stood as proof that Haitian artists — many like Delice exiled from their home country, or trapped inside it amid conflict — are carrying on a centuries-old tradition of Vodou flag making, stitch by stitch.

After an opening speech by Régine Roumain, HCX’s founder and executive director, Liautaud translated as Delice answered questions about her practice, flanked by her daughter. Delice was part of a second wave of Vodou flag makers, Liautaud said, who because of an embargo in the 1990s often designed beads and sequins from scratch. 

Vodou has a multivalent history in Haiti. It’s a “people’s religion,” write anthropologists Sidney Mintz and Michel-Rolph Trouillot — an umbrella term for practices and beliefs created over the course of centuries by people of disparate backgrounds, including enslaved Africans and the indigenous Taino, with strong ties to the revolution in 1771 that expelled the French and inaugurated a republic. But since the 20th century, it’s also become “two other things beside: a [tool] for Haitian political leaders, and a side show for tourist hotels.”

“Marassa 3,” by Mireille Delice. Photo by Jack Delaney

Ritual flags, known as drapo, are central to Vodou. Typically made with anywhere between 2,000 and 20,000 sequins and beads, they’ve been crafted since at least the mid-1800s, per historian Patrick Polk, though “anti-superstition” crackdowns and dismissal by the art industry have meant that few early flags survive today. 

Even so, the drapo tend to be more durable than other bead-based craftsmanship from elsewhere in the world, Liautaud said. And as Delice described, the fabrication process is often a joint effort by family members or the neighborhood, with one artist drawing the piece and their collaborators helping to realize it.

“I knew them all,” said Liautaud, of Haiti’s prominent Vodou flag makers. Liautaud was a consultant on the major exhibition “Sacred Art of Haitian Vodou,” which made a stop at the New York’s own Museum of Natural History in 1998 as it traversed the country. “I was interested in promoting and selling things that were not already in galleries,” she recalled. “So I started doing flags, mostly, and iron work.”

The current instability in Haiti — the roots of which trace back not only to the recent earthquakes, but to the US occupation of Haiti from 1915 to 1934, the aftershocks of that economic exploitation, and later the brutal dictatorship of President Francois Duvalier — has fractured many of the island nation’s communities, including those of its artists. Liautaud shared that several of her contacts have been on the run, moving every few months, with limited materials or opportunities to create their work.

Fashion designer Michel Chataigne is headling HCX’s next show. Photo by Jack Delaney

Yet as neighborhood characters, friends and family, and art collectors wandered around the gallery, the mood was not only somber but appreciative. Anecdotally, fan favorites included Delice’s “Marassa 3,” a drapo depicting divine triplets who play a role as guardians of crossroads and thresholds.

“We’ve had a great community of folks coming out to experience this very unique exhibition,” said Roumain. “Sometimes you’ll see Vodou flag makers having a solo show in a major museum. But to be in our own community space, in the context of what is happening internationally in Haiti — and also in the United States — is really important, and has been powerful.”

“Sacred Banners” is over, unfortunately, but not to worry! After Delice’s tutorial, the Star caught up with the artist behind HCX’s next show, “Michel Chataigne, La Mode et Haïti,” an immersive tour through the titular fashion designer’s illustrious career. Chataigne, a trailblazer whose achievements encompass everything from establishing Haiti’s first school of cosmetology to organizing the Miss Haiti pageant in both Haiti and New York, said he was excited to show off how much his work has changed over the years. You can see his exhibit at the HCX gallery (558 St Johns Place) until April 13.

HCX’s upcoming event is a fashion and cultural identity workshop with Chataigne on Saturday, March 29, from 2 p.m. to 4:30 p.m. at its Crown Heights location.

G Train Fleet Gets Younger and Older, Simultaneously

By JACK DELANEY | jdelaney@queensledger.com

The gods of transportation taketh, but they giveth too.

Last December, the MTA was facing a strange problem: the wheels of one model of subway car, R160s, were wearing out over the course of a few weeks, rather than months, and had to be rapidly replaced.

These R160 cars run on the E, F, and R lines, so theoretically the G should have been unaffected. But when the defective cars were pulled from service, substitutes from the G took their place — and vintage models from the 1980s were dusted off to fill any vacancies. Those cars, R68s, are slated to be phased out this year (prompting passengers to preemptively eulogize their unique yellow-and-orange “lover’s seats,” which are arranged in a cramped L-shape.) The end result, at least for the moment, is that G riders have been left with mostly musty, outmoded trains. 

Yet efforts to modernize the G line, the sole subway that doesn’t enter Manhattan, are also underway. After a “summer of pain” — not the citywide transit Tartarus of 2017, but the G-specific woes of 2024, when the line was shut down for repairs — the route started up again in September with a new signal system installed, which will come online in 2027. 

A more palpable change has been the introduction this month of open gangway trains, R211Ts, to the G line. The MTA initially rolled out two R211Ts, which have no doors between cars, on the C line, before announcing that it would be repurposing half of those 20 cars for the shorter G, where the 10 compartments could, like mitosis, form two additional trains with 5 apiece.

The transit authority is bullish on the revamped models: last year it approved a plan to buy 80 more open gangway R211Ts, ostensibly funded by congestion pricing. And at a press conference on March 4, Brooklyn lawmakers were similarly ebullient, praising the rollout.

Assembly Member Jo Anne Simon called the open gangway trains “more comfortable;” state Senator Andrew Gounardes and AM Emily Gallagher both argued they would relieve crowding, while making it more accessible for riders using wheelchairs or strollers. Council Member Lincoln Restler simply said the update was “awesome.”

New York isn’t the first transit system to adopt the open gangway. From Paris to Delhi, “cities around the world have benefitted from this same design,” said Gounardes. In fact, until now it’s been a glaring gap between America and its peers — 6sqft writes that “75 percent of non-U.S. metros have adopted open gangway trains, whereas zero percent of U.S. metros have.”

But many Brooklynites are split on the design, largely over public safety concerns. Online, the chatter has fallen into two broad buckets: the people who think the open gangway is indeed safer, because you can move away from someone who’s bothering you more easily, and those who maintain it’s the opposite, since you can’t switch cars. Anecdotally, the divide seems gendered, with men largely feeling safer on the R211Ts and women expressing reservations. 

Sophie, from Windsor Terrace, fell into the latter camp — she had the sense that the long corridor would make it harder to escape, and she also worried that the trains were becoming too “screen-oriented,” with little to gain practically. “They play TikToks and moving ads on the new trains,” she said. “I don’t think we need that.”

That aside, she acknowledged that the trains have been in dire need of improvements, and that the system has lagged behind international analogs. If the open gangway moves the needle on repairs, she noted, that would be a win. 

A fresh wave of open gangway trains are on their way, so they may eventually become the norm in New York City rather than a shiny toy. But for the time being, commuters on the G line roll the dice each day — will I ride a holdover from the 80s, or the digitalized train of the future?

The Lunar New Year Parade: A Photo Essay

By ALICE MORENO | news@queensledger.com

The Year of the Snake celebration kicked off in Chinatown on February 16. Though the rain poured through most of the parade, hundreds of guests still attended to bring in the New Year joyfully. 

The annual parade began at 1:00 p.m. on Mott Street, between Broome and Canal St., and continued further into Chinatown, going through Little Italy and SoHo. Giant puppet dragons were covered in plastic bags to ward off the rain and a sea of ponchos were scattered throughout Chinatown. Confetti flew through the skies, easily sticking to those who were drenched, and various goodies, such as a light-up, “2025” glasses, and red envelopes — which symbolize good luck — were passed around to guests. 

Various communities, organizations, and public figures were in attendance, such as the Chinese Counsel General of NY Chen Li and Senator Chuck Schumer. 

The parade was first held in 1998 and each year, the turnout becomes grander, becoming a cultural staple in the community. Each year, the Chinese Zodiac has a rotation of animals that represent a year. Folklore states that the Jade Emperor held a race, and the animals who ran the quickest through a river current were selected. It is even said that cats and rats have a longtime rivalry due to this race!

Though the year of the snake comes every 12 years, every 60 years, one of five elements — known as Wuxing in the realm of traditional Chinese philosophy — is paired with the year, symbolizing certain phenomenons that occur and affect the world we live in, according to The Collector. This year is the Wood Snake, which is marked by a rise in personal growth, transformation, and change. Many guests wear red, which is said to bring good luck and prosperity for the Lunar New Year. 

A parade-goer holds a sign from the District Attorney of New York County, celebrating the Year of the Snake.

Chen Li, the Chinese Consul General (second from left) joins other members of the consulate in the Lunar New Year Parade.

A parade-goer bangs the cymbals as she passes through Mott St.

Parade members carried a plethora of props filled with Lunar New Year symbolism.

Representatives of Panda Mobile walk through the parade.

A volunteer at the parade gave out a variety of goodies, including the “2025” glasses and red envelopes with stickers inside.

A red lion puppet flows through the parade with grace.

A vibrant, neon-colored dragon was the first to go through, signaling the start of the parade.

A flag for the “New York Choy Lay Fut, ” which is known as “New York’s Premier Lion Dance Team,” according to their Instagram.

Assemblyman Zohran Mamdani Makes His Pitch

Queens Assemblyman Zohran Mamdani is surging in the mayoral race, fueled by a savvy social media campaign. Can he make his viral ideas reality?

Photo by Mohamed Farghaly

By JACK DELANEY | jdelaney@queensledger.com

If state Assemblyman Zohran Mamdani becomes mayor this November, the decisive moment may have come years earlier, over a meal at King of Falafel in 2021.

But first, some context. Growing up, Mamdani had friends whose dads were living through a “crisis that everyone seemed to understand, but no one did anything about.” They were New York taxi drivers, and by the mid-2000s three forces had conspired to burden them with enormous debts: first, the Bloomberg administration inflated the price of medallions, from $200,000 in 2002 to upwards of $1,000,000 in 2014, to generate more revenue. 

Soon after, a flood of competition from Uber and Lyft diluted the medallions’ value even as their cost rose. To cap it all off, predatory lenders who had been barred from the housing market swooped in to offer cabbies, 94% of whom are immigrants, loans that would entrap them even further. By 2021, the average driver was $550,000 in the red, and suicide rates had skyrocketed. “I’m going to be enslaved for the rest of my life,” NBC quoted one medallion owner as saying. “[It’s] not only that I will never be able to pay it off — my kids will never be able to pay it off.” 

If you lived in Astoria or Long Island City in 2020, you probably received a mailer from Mamdani with a bold promise: if elected to the state assembly, he would cancel excessive taxi medallion debt. It was the sort of splashy proposal that politicians often bandy about, and it worked — his campaign was successful. So a year later, when Mayor Bill de Blasio put forward a plan to earmark $500 million for debt relief, it could have been a victory lap, a box checked. 

Instead, Mamdani pressed de Blasio on the details, and began meeting with the taxi drivers’ union, NYTWA, which said the mayor’s proposal was mostly cosmetic. These conversations culminated in 45 days of consecutive protests outside City Hall, at which Mamdani was arrested for civil disobedience, followed by a joint 15-day hunger strike with five other lawmakers that forced the city, against all odds, to accept the taxi drivers’ demands. Though problems with lenders remain, some 2,000 drivers have seen their debts reduced to $200,000 through the resulting deal.

Photo by Mohamed Farghaly

During the Star’s recent roundtable with Mamdani, he was quick to critique former Governor Andrew Cuomo, the current mayoral frontrunner, saying that “[his] early strength in polls is more a reflection of the mythology of [Cuomo], of nostalgia for his press conferences, than of an actual inspection of his record.” But politics is as much about myths as it is policy, and Mamdani’s fight against medallion debt is one such myth — a story that he will likely tell and retell in the lead-up to the election. The drama of the hunger strike captures his broad pitch to voters, which is that he, unlike both Cuomo and Mayor Eric Adams, is in tune with the struggles of working class New Yorkers and willing to put himself on the line for them. 

But just as instructive as the dramatic finale is a quieter episode — after Mamdani questioned de Blasio and before the protests began — when he met Senator Chuck Schumer for lunch at Astoria’s King of Falafel. Once they’d finished eating, Mamdani asked Schumer if he’d take a ride with a cabbie named Richard Chow whose brother, a driver laden with debt, had died of suicide, and who himself had hundreds of thousands of dollars to pay off from loans he took to buy his medallion. Schumer agreed. Based on that experience, Mamdani said, the senator joined the push for debt relief and bartered with the mayor’s office, a major factor in the eventual deal.

Four years later, much has changed. Mamdani, whose association with the smaller Democratic Socialists of America (DSA) party has isolated him in Albany, has ridden similarly attention-grabbing promises on social media — free buses, frozen rents, city-owned grocery stores — to go from an upset candidate for mayor to second in the polls, chasing only Cuomo. Last fall, fellow socialists including Assemblywoman Emily Gallagher were saying that his campaign “could be ruinous,” playing spoiler to other progressives with a more realistic shot; now even the New York Post, leery of the DSA, considers him “a serious contender.” 

Mamdani, 33, grew up in both Uganda and South Africa before moving to New York at age seven, when his father accepted a teaching job at Columbia University. He went to middle school in Morningside Heights, right by the university, and went to Bronx High School of Science, where he fell in love with journalism. He was also passionate about sports: he captained the soccer team, and co-founded Bronx Science’s cricket team. (To this day, Mamdani is an ardent fan of the soccer team Arsenal — his uncle inducted him into the ranks when he was eight, and he’s been a supporter ever since. His current favorite player is Martin Odegaard, whom he calls the “conductor of the team,” while his childhood pick was Thierry Henry.)

After majoring in Africana Studies at Bowdoin College, Mamdani cut his teeth as an organizer for Change Corps, a precursor to NYPIRG that billed itself as a “training ground for activists.” He ran phone banks for vulnerable senate Democrats out of Seattle, Houston, and lastly Denver, where he tried to unionize with fellow organizers before leaving amid mass firings that ensued. Following a stint in the music and film industries — including a single called “Nani,” released under the pseudonym “Mr. Cardamom,” that received a New York Times write-up— Mamdani knocked on doors for city council candidate Ali Najmi in 2015, and started to “to get a sense of [his] place in the world of local politics.” Yet it was the next race he worked on, a 2017 city council bid by Lutheran minister Khader El-Yateem in South Brooklyn, that set him on his current path.

“That was the campaign that changed my life,” said Mamdani. “I always knew I was a New Yorker. [But] I didn’t know how my politics fit into New York City, and here was this Palestinian man who was vocal in his support for universal human rights, and tying it also to the fight for a more affordable city for working class people, fighting back against corporate interests.”

Mamdani briefly left politics in 2018, to work as a foreclosure- prevention counselor in Jackson Heights and Richmond Hill. The ever-present issue while canvassing had been housing, and this job seemed like a way to tackle those problems directly. “There’s a sadness in knowing that every time you finish a case, there will be another case and there will be a different name, a different person, different specifics,” recalled Mamdani. Still, he was proud that as the only counselor at his organization who spoke Hindi and Urdu, he was able to reach people who weren’t aware that a lien was about to be placed on their home, and help them negotiate with lenders.

At the roundtable, Mamdani repeatedly said that “politics shouldn’t require translation,” a soundbite he’s returned to throughout the nascent mayoral race. The assemblyman’s experience as a housing counselor helps explain why that principle is meaningful to him — and his current campaign’s heavy focus on social media, racking up about 7 million views to date across all platforms, can be seen as an extension of that ethic.

“No matter your age, everyone lives on their phone. And it’s an opportunity to tell your story as to what it is you’re fighting for,” said Mamdani, “[even] if that means jumping into ice cold water in a suit bought from Steinway Thrift — $30, incredible deal, I recommend it to all — to speak about a rent freeze.”

Roughly seven months out from the elections, the strategy is already paying off. Mamdani has raised $3.8 million in the last filing period, more than any other campaign, through contributions from more donors than every other candidate combined. His nearly 5000 volunteers have knocked on 60,000 doors, and the barrage of short-form videos about his proposed policies has pulled him neck-and-neck with other, more established contenders like Comptroller Brad Lander. 

The several-hundred-million dollar question — in some cases billion — is how Mamdani would pay for these blockbuster initiatives if elected. One of his trademark proposals is to abolish the fare for MTA buses, which he said will not only relieve financial pressure from low-income commuters, but also reduce crime and speed up routes by allowing for all-door boarding. Data from a multi-borough pilot program last year largely buttressed these claims. The only catch? He estimates that it would cost the city about $650 million per year to forego bus fares. 

Mamdani’s critics say that, as with other socialists, his ideas require spending that’s not feasible. In an interview on The Point in December, Marcia Kramer appeared skeptical that his schemes for drumming up funds, which could include collecting back payments from landlords, would be enough to foot the bill. But the medallion debt deal was a tough sell, costing the city $100 million. And though easy to gloss over, Mamdani’s well-timed alliance with Schumer suggests that the Queens assemblyman may have a more pragmatic bent than his catchy, rapid-fire TikToks might convey.

Every candidate, from the progressive state Senator Zellnor Myrie to the centrist Cuomo, has promised to take drastic measures to make New York less expensive to live in. Mamdani’s proposals may be the most eye-catching, but the elephant in the room is President Donald Trump — whichever politician wins will have to negotiate with a federal government that is loath to offer any funding, let alone for a line item like city-owned grocery stores. 

Mamdani has avoided buzzwords on the campaign trail, pitching a larger tent as he courts a wide range of supporters. “As the mayor, you represent all New Yorkers,” he told the Star. “Ultimately, your responsibility is to deliver for those New Yorkers, and what I’ve said does not mean a reflexive position of opposition to a federal administration. It means a willingness to be critical, to be oppositional, to fight, when that administration places your constituents in their crosshairs.”

There’s more to the Queens assemblyman than his brand as the “extremely online” mayoral candidate who has “embraced the cringe,” as The CITY put it. While it remains to be seen whether he can convince voters that he has the managerial and budgeting chops to see his viral ideas realized, Mamdani’s parting pitch is fairly universal: “What the city deserves,” he said, “is someone who continues to believe that it could be better than it is.”

Mohamed Farghaly contributed reporting.

Architects Reimagine SUNY Downstate

The architecture firm NBBJ partnered with local leaders to envision a modernized SUNY Downstate, only a year after the hospital was slated for closure.

Graphics courtesy of Brooklyn for Downstate

By JACK DELANEY | jdelaney@queensledger.com

This past year has been a rollercoaster ride for SUNY Downstate, the only state-run hospital in New York City.

In January 2024, Governor Kathy Hochul announced plans to either shrink or fully close the teaching hospital, relocating its outpatient and urgent care units to a new building in a nearby parking lot. The mood at the time was grim, with SUNY Chancellor John King rattling off a laundry list of problems: “We do have a $100 million deficit at [Downstate],” he said, “and we will run out of cash this summer, and the building is in disrepair and at risk of catastrophic failure.” 

But community advocates pushed back, calling the move rushed and arguing that it lacked buy-in from residents. “If everything is dire, if everything is falling apart, come to us and show it,” said State Senator Zellnor Myrie, in whose district Downstate falls. 

The response was overwhelming. Most tellingly, a poll released in March showed that approximately 70% of those in the neighborhood opposed a closure. And local politicians and hospital employees alike rebuked the state for only allocating $300 million in capital funding for the smaller facility across the street, claiming that a sustainable solution to the issues plaguing Downstate — which had suffered from decades of shortfalls — would require an injection on the order of $1 billion.

By April 2024, officials had clarified that they would not be closing Downstate in the “near-term,” a win for activists. Yet another twist came in December, when the hospital’s CEO since 2020, Dr. David Berger, resigned amid allegations of financial misconduct. But the tides shifted decisively in January 2025, with Hochul pivoting to allocate an additional $550 million to address Downstate’s woes, for a total of $950 million (the previous funding had included $100 million for operations). The governor then passed the baton, for now at least, to a community advisory board (CAB) she had formed last November, whose recommendations will be due this upcoming April. Karl-Henry Cesar, chair of Brooklyn Community Board 14, said he hoped the board would be “fully empowered and supported to take as much time as needed to talk with the community and faithfully execute its mission” —  the group held its first hearing in January, after months of inactivity, and the next is scheduled for February 27 at Medgar Evers College.

It was in this context, of an averted closure and stalled conversations in the aftermath, that the local coalition Brooklyn for Downstate (BfD) partnered with an architecture firm to envision a next-generation hospital. Last week, they unveiled the fruits of that collaboration: glitzy renderings of what SUNY Downstate could look like if lawmakers deliver enough funding for a full revamp. During an online presentation, members of BfD criticized the state’s approach to gathering community input, with many singling out delays around the CAB as particularly frustrating. “From our position, 8 months were wasted,” said Redetha Abraham-Nichols, DNP, MRA, RN. “We think it’s unfair for the commission to take the work of 12 months and have to do it in 3 months.” Yet they were taking matters into their own hands, the coalition’s leaders stated, and the renderings were an attempt to chart a course for the hospital that would have broad appeal.

In drawing up a modern iteration of SUNY Downstate, architects from the firm NBBJ pulled heavily from a report BfD commissioned in December that brainstormed practical alternatives to closing the hospital. Such a tack could prove disastrous, “deepening disparities and straining neighboring hospitals” the report concluded, offering a counterproposal. “Retaining core services, while optimizing capacity and modernizing infrastructure, is the most effective path forward to sustain equitable healthcare access for Brooklyn’s most vulnerable residents.” Specifically, the report laid out four demands: first, to streamline service by reducing the number of beds from 342 to 250. Second, to upgrade technology and facilities for departments like emergency care, while adding rooms for maternal and OBGYN treatment. Third, to create urgent care and ambulatory surgery centers, with the goal of reducing ER visits. And fourth, to funnel resources into outpatient preventative care centers, heading off major health issues before they occur.  

During the presentation, the architects placed special emphasis on transplants, noting that SUNY Downstate is the only licensed organ transplant provider in the county. “Patients may be waiting on a transplant list for an extended period of time,” said Christina Grimes, who leads NBBJ’s global healthcare practice, “and it can be a very multi-disciplinary team.” With that in mind, the renderings leaned into a biophilic approach to make long waits more tolerable 

Joan Rosegreen, who represents the nurses at SUNY Downstate, asked how the new design would deal with patient overflow, to which the architects responded that they were still working out the details, and that this was just a starting point. Rosegreen also outlined a brief wish list for future schematics: “We have a small oncology unit,” she commented, “so it would be great if we could expand that.”

Downstate has a storied history that can be traced back to 1856, when a handful of physicians opened a free clinic to care for poor German immigrants. The next year, its name changed from the German General Dispensary to The St. John’s Hospital; it was renamed again in 1858, with administrators settling on the Long Island College Hospital. As of 1860, it was one of only 11 medical schools nationwide to admit Black students, and it was among the earliest to admit women, too, in the early 20th century. Today, Central Brooklyn has one of the greatest concentrations of Caribbean people in the country, which is why some critics of the governor’s initial plan cast it as another case of chronic disinvestment in Black communities.

As the MC of the BfD presentation, Abraham-Nichols was adamant that the state support a grander vision for the hospital. “We cannot, and we will not, go backward,” she said. “Only forward.”

In the Studio with George Boorujy

Artist George Boorujy invited the Star to his studio at The Old American Can Factory in Gowanus. Photo: Jack Delaney

By JACK DELANEY | jdelaney@queensledger.com

As George Boorujy was painting his mural in the summer heat, groups of passersby would call out to him on their way to the soccer fields. Boorujy was covering the block-spanning wall across from a public pool in Red Hook with migratory birds, accompanied by tags for the countries they winter in, and the common complaint was that he was missing a name: “What about Jamaica?” someone would tease, while another pedestrian shouted “You don’t have Peru!”

It was hard work. In the end, it only took Boorujy fifteen days to finish the installation on Bay Street: six for the birds and plants, and nine for the solid colors of the background. “I banged those things out,” he’d say proudly, months later. But that sprint belied years of studying the subject matter and many hours spent scoping out the site, which the veteran artist described as “really weird,” and “a very difficult spot to conceptualize” because the retaining wall was low yet long — a daunting 963 feet. 

The mural, sponsored by the Red Hook Conservancy as an addition to the Audubon Mural Project, took shape last June. But Boorujy still has fond memories of the commission, in part because of those exchanges with onlookers. If the piece was an homage to the eight bird species it depicts, it was also a statement about migration in general, or the “dichotomy of when you call more than one place home,” as Boorujy put it. “The birds that we think of as ‘our’ birds are not our birds. They’re also Panama’s birds, they’re Venezuela’s birds.” Many of the regulars who play soccer in the adjacent park are from Central and South America, he noted, and amid rising xenophobia, he wanted to acknowledge that parallel. “We welcome our birds every spring as they come in,” he said. “Yet we aren’t necessarily welcoming certain people.”

In a sense, the Red Hook mural expresses a dual interest — nature and migration—that has long been embedded in Boorujy’s art, and has just started to find a new form. Boorujy, who is based out of a studio in the Old American Can Factory in Gowanus, began drawing at an early age. And what he drew, growing up in a small New Jersey town, was animals. Everywhere he looked, he’d “always see the compromise with mankind,” like roadkill littering the highway, yet he initially shied away from portraying humans, even any evidence of them. “Sometimes an animal can function as a mirror better than a person,” he mused. He followed his love of wildlife by majoring in biology at the University of Miami, and eventually swung back towards painting.

Boorujy said the three stone figures in the center of this piece reminded him of himself, with his two sons. Photo: Jack Delaney

Now in his forties, Boorujy has covered a lot of ground. “I’ve been making work about the environment forever, around 20 years,” he explained. “About climate change, and wildlife, and our relationship to [them].” For a spell, his trademark was rendering an animal, or several, in high fidelity against a massive white canvas, like a god emerging from the blank before the Big Bang. These paintings are extremely detailed — in one 44” by 88” portrait from 2019 of a panther suckling two cubs, it would be easy to miss a tiny mosquito clinging to her paw. Still, they’re not quite hyperrealism, because they’re too laden with symbolic weight. That is Boorujy’s magic: his creatures are otherworldly, but they’re presented with such attention to detail that viewers are compelled to believe that this other world has weather like ours, and inhabitants that live and die within it.

During a visit to Boorujy’s studio this month, he showed off his latest paintings, which maintain that uncanny quality with a notable difference: the tabula rasa backgrounds are gone. Sweeping landscapes have rushed into the vacuums, articulating them with high-contrast rocks, trees, and lakes. In short, there’s a newfound emphasis on worldbuilding, a shift which Boorujy said was intentional. “If we cut carbon tomorrow, we’re still going to be living on a very changed planet,” he said. “And so I was like, Okay, what will it be?”

Though Boorujy’s recent work doesn’t offer definitive answers, each painting reveals a fresh and memorable corner of this hypothetical future. The landscapes are by turns bleak and serene. When his familiar animals show up, they’re altered: one image shows a zebra on its side at either dusk or dawn, its head out of sight — so that it reads more like terrain than a living being —with a host of stone figurines sitting on its haunches. These statuettes, halfway between animate and inanimate, are everywhere in the studio. Boorujy sculpts them by hand, then uses them as models when he paints; the two-dimensional result still feels like it was fashioned physically. As a viewer, one gets the sense that people were once here, in the frame, but they’ve since traveled elsewhere. What’s left behind is this makeshift collection of humanoid cairns and religious implements, personified and clamoring, to gesture at what lies ahead.

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