New Book is a Colorful Who’s Who of Brooklyn Storefronts

By Jack Delaney | jdelaney@queensledger.com

“Brooklyn is a magical place. World famous. A muse. A wellspring. Even the water is famous!” 

Some might take the opening words of Joel Holland’s introduction to his third book, Brooklyn Storefronts, released in September, as pure flattery, but he brings the goods: upwards of 230 minimalistic yet painstakingly drawn renderings of the borough’s most iconic spots. From oldies like Staubitz Market in Cobble Hill (est. 1917) to new entrants such as Frankel’s Delicatessen & Appetizing in Greenpoint (since 2016) and beyond, Holland and collaborator David Dodge — who contributed lovingly researched copy to contextualize each drawing — have tried to make sure there’s something for every Brooklynite in these pages.

The project wasn’t without its challenges. Holland and Dodge had worked together on the former’s first title, a paean to his Manhattan haunts called NYC Storefronts, which hit shelves in 2022. But they acknowledged that doing Brooklyn justice called for a different approach. For one, the older book drew from a personal stash of illustrations Holland had made over the course of years, so they knew which stores would be included from the outset. In tackling a new borough, the scale was daunting: “I was pretty confident that I would know 75% of the stores that came our way,” Dodge said. “It was more like a quarter.” 

 

 

The economic crisis that has rocked the restaurant business also posed an issue, both for Brooklyn Storefronts and a soon-to-be second edition of the first book. 

“It’s been a little depressing, actually,” said Dodge. “We’ve had to go through and list all the different storefronts that have closed, and a lot of them — at the time, we were proud of them for making it through Covid, and there were all these great mutual aid efforts. But the toll of [the pandemic] is still kind of rippling throughout the city. It’s been interesting to go back and dip into the first book and see what’s changed.”

As for Brooklyn? “Having lived out there, I was jazzed,” said Holland, an expat of Greenpoint and Park Slope, who was lettering his next project as we spoke. “Like, ‘Oh, this is gonna be easy!’ And then I started to get really bummed, because I lived out there 10 or 15 years ago, and all the places that I thought of as being so awesome were gone.”

Both Holland and Dodge had been Brooklynites before (Dodge is “constantly in Brooklyn” to this day, he maintained), but as they assembled a preliminary list of storefronts — taking excursions from tip to tail, and taking stock of closures — they decided to recruit more help in order to cast a wider net. 

“T​​he way that we solved it was by combining forces between David, [editor] Ali, and myself, as well as all of our contacts with friends and some anonymous crowdsourcing [through social media],” said Holland. “That got me excited, thinking — this is not just for me or for us. We’re doing this for the community.”

And after documenting so many striking facades and improbable backstories, it’s hard not to have favorites. 

“[It’s] probably the San Toy Laundry on 7th St,” said Holland. “I just love the look of it. I love the little packages in the window. I know it sounds weird to talk about my own drawing this way —  sorry! But I like the texture that I was able to do for the exterior, mimicking a brown stone grit. That’s my favorite spot.”

 

Dodge was torn, but leaned towards the New York City Transit Museum on Schermerhorn St. in Downtown Brooklyn. The museum only exists, he explained, because a Transit Authority employee named Don Harold, who died in 2023, became obsessed with saving decommissioned trains from the scrapyard by switching their numbers so they wouldn’t be identified. Many of these same trains eventually found a home in today’s museum, which is sited in a subway station that was retired in 1946. 

Another quirky discovery for Dodge was Broadway Pigeons & Pet Supplies in Bushwick, run by brothers Joey and Michael Scott. They inherited a flock of the speckle-necked birds when their grandfather passed away, and decided to create a hub for fellow enthusiasts. Though their hearts are with the rock doves, in recent years the Scotts have been forced to turn to traditional pet supplies to survive. People still buy pigeons, Dodge says, but nowadays the store is more likely to sell them for oddball purposes, such as to help train a dog to hunt, than for racing or long-distance messages.

Ultimately, the book strives to be more than eye candy. “Over the past decade,” curator Kimberly Drew writes in the foreword, “I’ve watched so many storefronts come and go. I’ve seen my neighborhood, Bedford-Stuyvesant, be invaded. I’ve felt the brunt of rising rents. I’ve watched the horizons change. Witnessing this all firsthand is why I know it is urgent that we seek out these storefronts and support them.” In that sense, Brooklyn Storefronts is much like a pattern book, full of eateries, bars, bookstores, museums, and laundromats whose storied warps and wefts — luring you out of the house — amount to something more than the sum of its (very elegant) parts.

The duo’s next project will be a citywide survey of street vendors, tentatively scheduled for 2026. You can contact David Dodge via his Instagram, @bydaviddodge, with any suggestions or tips about vendors he should profile. Holland’s fourth book, Paris Shopfronts, is due out next spring.

Thin and Thinning Margins: Cap on Delivery App Fees May Be Rolled Back

By Jack Delaney

New York City lawmakers are considering lifting a cap on how much delivery apps can charge restaurants for each order, which was first implemented during the pandemic. Supporters claim the cap was a stopgap measure that no longer makes sense, while detractors say the change would squeeze the margins of small businesses that are already struggling.

Currently, third-party delivery services like Doordash and Grubhub are limited to charging any given restaurant a maximum of 23% per sale — 15% for delivery, 3% for credit card processing, and 5% for other fees. But a new bill, Int 762, would increase this cap to a total of 43% per order, by giving vendors the ability to ‘opt in’ to an additional 20% fee in return for enhanced services such as marketing. 

New York has long been a unique market for delivery apps because of its transportation profile. Unlike other major cities such as Los Angeles, NYC is extremely dense and micromobility — encompassing scooters, mopeds, and e-bikes — is far more common than cars, which dominate elsewhere. As a result, the city’s regulatory framework for deliveries has evolved in ways that have diverged from the rest of the country. 

While it was the first city to implement a delivery fee cap in March of 2020, it is also now one of the last municipalities — down from a peak total of more than 100 — that has kept the policy in the wake of the pandemic. The bill’s proponents say there is little to justify what they view as a burdensome legal holdover. 

Bowing to a Monopoly, or Restoring a ‘Free Market’?

App companies have been proactive in expressing their discontent over local regulations, of which the fee cap is only one component. Last year, Uber, DoorDash and Grubhub sued the city over a law establishing minimum wage for food delivery workers, arguing that it used faulty data to determine how much the contractors should earn. The companies had been beset by claims of wage theft, triggering scrutiny from the City Council. And this September, the apps were handed a favorable ruling when a judge found that a consumer data-sharing requirement, implemented by the city in 2021, was unconstitutional. 

Now, the tug-of-war between restaurants, delivery workers, and third-party services is shifting to the fee cap. “The Fair Competition for Restaurants Act is a compromise solution that gives New York’s small, independent restaurants more options on our platform while keeping important safeguards in place,” a representative for GrubHub said. “It allows them flexibility to market themselves, grow their customer base, and compete with the big chains.”

But Andrew Rigie, executive director of the New York City Hospitality Alliance, opposed the bill during a hearing in June, decrying what he called “monopolistic behavior.” He was echoed by Chris Lauber, Director of Operations at LT Hospitality Management, who held that “for an industry with thin profit margins of 5 to 10 percent, increasing these fees could mean the difference between staying open and closing.”

However, at the June hearing, Council Member Rafael Salamanca Jr. pushed Rigie and Lauber on why these price controls are necessary, given that the extra charge would be voluntary on the part of restaurants. 

In response, Lauber said that the cap helps to prevent an exponential ‘race to the bottom,’ driven by what he described as the app companies’ high degree of leverage over their clients. Specifically, both he and Rigie highlighted the role of search engines.

At the current 23% rate, Lauber claimed, the ease with which a restaurant is found depends mostly on proximity to the customer or the type of food they’re searching for. By comparison, he worried that the language around search priority in the new bill was vague, allowing apps to bury businesses who don’t opt into higher premiums. 

“If our restaurants had been next to each other and they had two different marketing strategies inside,” he said, “we would then have one exponentially higher than the other, which is ultimately what they’re arguing is the point. However, the margins are so thin going into restaurants to begin with that it creates kind of an effective rat race that would be exponentially playing one off of the other to get higher and higher in the fee cap, until eventually it’s exhausted.”

Disputed Protections

Delivery apps have pointed to the fact that many restaurants appear to support the bill as evidence that it will maintain an even playing field. 

“Despite claims made by industry lobbyists for large restaurant chains, support for this amendment is led by New York’s small and independent restaurants, including the NY Latino Restaurant & Bar Association and multiple community organizations,” Grubhub’s spokesperson said. They noted that the bill enshrines additional protections for restaurants, which include “the rights to be listed and discoverable, to include their own marketing materials in deliveries, to set their own in-app menu prices, and to prohibit delivery platforms purchasing their restaurant’s name for advertising.” Regular compliance assessments would also be required.

Yet Lauber was skeptical that these protections would be enough to shield smaller vendors. “Recently, I even had to argue with multiple platforms just to abide by the current regulations in place and not overcharge us when onboarding our restaurants,” he said. “So removing the fee cap would disproportionately affect smaller independent restaurants and bring bargaining power to larger restaurants, further creating an uneven playing field that favors larger chains.”

There is no set date for when the bill will be brought before the council again, but advocates on both sides predict it will be a matter of weeks, and are kicking into high gear to persuade council members before a vote.

Christmas at the Danish Seamen’s Church

By Jack Delaney | jdelaney@queensledger.com

The Danish Seamen’s Church threw its yearly Christmas Fair last weekend, on November 23rd and 24th, drawing a crowd of expat Danes, second-gen Scandinavians, and Nordophiles alike to the church’s brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. 

Julie Sløk, pastor since 2006, said that the market is the church’s major fundraiser of the year. The tradition has been carried on for over forty years, and the church itself has existed since the late 19th century, counting photographer Jacob Riis among its congregants.

In the backyard, volunteers Anne Wallen and Carsten Holm doled out ample helpings of pancake balls called aebleskiver, paired with strawberry jam and powdered sugar, to a stream of customers. And even as the event wound down on its final day, a dozen market goers sat conversing in animated Danish along two rows of long wooden tables.

“It’s a wonderful community,” Carsten said. “For Danes in North America, this is a unique place. The confirmation classes have people coming from all over the U.S.” (and even Canada, Anne added.)

There are only about 10,000 such Danes currently living in the tri-state area, said Marianne Beresford, co-owner of the popular supplier Scandinavian Butik in Norwalk, CT, as well as a board member of the church and the event’s joint organizer with Sløk. But the meager numbers belie, or perhaps contribute to, a tight-knit camaraderie.

“Every Dane should go abroad for at least two years,” she said. After a beat she explained, half-joking: “So they know how good they have it.” 

The market’s large turnout this year is also a testament to the resiliency of both the church’s leadership and its community. Like many other houses of worship, the Seamen’s Church, or Sjomanden Kirke in Danish, shut down all of its in-person operations when the pandemic broke out. Yet with typical good cheer, Sløk and her team shifted to virtual offerings, and sought for upsides. 

Despite all this, the board’s annual report read, 2020 was a good year for the Seamen’s Church. We have found out how much we mean to each other and to the Danes here. It must follow the motto that nothing is so bad that it is not good for something.

City of ‘Yes, But’: Landmark Housing Deal Squeezes Through to Full Vote, with Caveats

A map depicting the new plan for parking mandates: red zones will see them rolled back completely, while residents in the yellow and blue areas will experience partial reductions to the requirements. (Credit: New York City Council)

By Jack Delaney

New York City’s most sweeping housing plan in decades cleared a crucial hurdle this week, as the City Council pushed forward changes to zoning laws and other regulations so that 80,000 new units can be built across the city. 

Last Thursday, the Council’s Land Use Committee voted 8 to 2 in favor of a revised version of  ‘City of Yes,’ a slate of modifications to citywide rules that has been a key part of Mayor Eric Adams’ agenda and that is intended to alleviate the city’s acute housing shortage. The original plan aimed to create 109,000 units in the next 15 years, but it was amended after backlash among some electeds over hot-button issues such as the abolition of parking mandates. 

There haven’t been major changes to the city’s zoning laws since 1961, and pressure for reforms has mounted in recent years as the housing crisis has worsened. A particularly dire indicator is that as of 2024, the rental vacancy rate had dropped to an abysmal 1.4%, the lowest on record since 1968 and a marked decrease from a pandemic-era level of 4.5% in 2021. “The data is clear,” said Mayor Adams in February. “The demand to live in our city is far outpacing our ability to build housing.”

Down to the wire

As of the morning of the vote, it remained unclear whether a deal would be struck. If the council had declined to vote, the plan would have passed without amendments. The vote itself was delayed by over five hours, as council members hashed out a workable compromise. In the end, it took an unexpected injection of $1 billion from Governor Kathy Hochul to ensure that the amended proposal would be approved. 

Since City of Yes was first announced in June 2022, Mayor Adams and his allies have characterized it as “a little more housing in every neighborhood.” Though the Council’s amendments still pave the way for a substantial amount of housing, they represent a more Balkanized tack, in which some neighborhoods will bear a greater share of development thanks to regulations that vary based on borough and distance from transit hubs.

The two most contentious facets of the original plan — parking mandates and ADUs, or accessory dwelling units — were accordingly the focal points for the compromise deal. 

Rather than discarding the minimums completely, the deal creates a three-tiered system based on geography. In almost all of Manhattan, and much of western Queens and Brooklyn — dubbed Tier 1 — Parking mandates would be eliminated entirely. For Tier 2, which covers swaths of Brooklyn and the Bronx, mandates would be lowered substantially, cutting the number of required parking units by three-quarters across the zone. And in Tier 3, largely contained to Queens, minimums for standard projects would remain in place, but would be lifted for ADUs), transit-oriented districts, and town centers as long as new construction contains fewer than 75 units.

The agreement also ratcheted up regulations on ADUs, a key component of the City of Yes plan, as well as small apartments in backyards, garages, and other spaces on existing properties. The compromise would prohibit ground-floor and basement ADUs in coastal and inland flood-prone areas, while disallowing backyard ADUs in historic districts and certain areas designated for single-family homes.

Too Much, Not Enough

Council Member Bob Holden, who has been part of a vocal opposition, called the deal “a terrible plan” and said that his constituents “reject the idea of giving real estate developers a blank check to overdevelop our city.” He and other Republican lawmakers had expressed concerns about potential overcrowding, strain on infrastructure, and the impact of large-scale developments on ‘neighborhood character.’

For their part, progressives like State Senator Zellnor Myrie criticized the proposal for not going far enough. “With today’s carveouts, an already modest step forward has slowed to an even more hesitant pace,” Myrie said. “Every housing unit cut from this proposal represents another family that will have to leave New York City.” He added that he hoped the full Council would approve the changes without further amendments during its stated meeting next month.

Even so, many housing advocates have reacted positively to the amended plan. Some argued that critics who initially focused on concessions were losing the forest for the trees, and praised what they saw as a paradigm shift. “Essentially, this is fantastic,” said one representative, who asked to remain anonymous. “City of Yes was never going to be the fix to our housing crisis. But what this does, which has never been done before in New York City, is to recognize that a zoning change is essential to providing affordable housing.”

The plan will now return to the City Planning Commission for review before proceeding to a final vote by the full City Council in December.

Juice, Judo, and a Runway: Brownsville Orgs Show Out for Food Equity

Clarissa Sims demos an easy-to-make yet nutritious juice for attendees. Photo: Jack Delaney

By Jack Delaney | jdelaney@queensledger.com

“We the undersigned,” the petition begins, “are tired of living in a neighborhood that is systemically deprived of healthy choices.”

On a sunny Sunday afternoon, the Brownsville Heritage House played host to an array of community leaders and entrepreneurs who showed up in support of a bid for $200,000 in state grants to create a new hub for fresh, nutritious food in the neighborhood. 

The petition, launched by nonprofit Seeds in the Middle, would combine an affordable farmers market with a community cafe, all run by Brownsville residents. Customers using SNAP benefits at the market would get double value up to $20 per day, and the cafe would serve as a one-stop shop for nourishing meals, juices, and snacks, as well as items made by local creatives. 

Seeds in the Middle founder Nancie Katz says the state money would help address a problem that’s currently acute. Brownsville has been called a ‘food desert,’ though recently the term has given way among experts to ‘food swamp’ — an area that is flooded by access to unhealthy food, without a convenient or cheap means of buying alternatives. This lacuna has knock-on effects: 41% of adults in Brownsville are obese, per Foodscape data, which is nearly 20% higher than the city average and much worse than the 32% the neighborhood recorded in 2011. Residents also face rates of diabetes and infant mortality, the risk of which is tied to chronic health conditions, that are among the highest in the city. 

At first, a sparse group of about ten attendees sat scattered on folding chairs throughout the room, reticent. But dozens more began to stream in around 3 p.m., and before long the space was buzzing. 

The event kicked off with a tour of the recently renovated Brownsville Heritage House by Miriam Robertson, its Executive Director. The 40-year old community center and museum, located on the second floor of the Stone Avenue Library, was started by legendary historian and trailblazer Mother Gaston out of her own living room. 

Next was a crash course in self defense taught by Gabriel Eugene, owner of the Lucian Dojo on Maple Street. His good-natured volunteer, Divine Pollard, threw mock blows and patiently weathered a variety of headlocks as Eugene walked the crowd through the optimal ways to defend against punches, baseball bats, and knives. 

Then came a demo by Clarissa Sims of Liquid Vibes, a juice company based out of Staten Island. A year earlier, Sims underwent surgery for breast cancer, a frightening experience which spurred her to place more emphasis on her health. On stage at the event, carrots, oranges, and apples went into a juicer along with a knob of ginger — attendees were enthusiastic about the juice, but did have thoughts on the strength of the last ingredient: “The juice,” said one older man, “is very spicy.”

Sims was unfazed. “Ginger is amazing, amazing, amazing for your body,” she told onlookers, while stressing that it’s more important to add in healthy foods, at least initially, than it is to go scorched earth through dieting. “By embracing healthier habits, I’m not just transforming myself,” she wrote on Instagram. “I’m on a mission to impact the lives of my family and community.”

The lack of healthy food in Brownsville isn’t a fluke. Silvia Radulescu, a researcher at the Georgetown University Law Center, explains that “there are racial disparities in food access in Brooklyn; white residents have better access to healthy [meals] than Black and Hispanic residents.” She argues that this gap isn’t only the product of current income inequality, but “result[s] from twentieth-century segregation policies and practices—such as redlining, blockbusting, and predatory lending.” In other words, Brownsville residents have been forced into unhealthy habits over the course of decades, and by design.  

“I don’t even know where to say to get it, to get fresh stuff,” said Cynthia Bishop, who was born in Wilmington, NC, and moved to Brownsville when she was five years old.

At the Brownsville Heritage House, organizer Cherokee La Dickens asks questions as Chef Shibumi Jones explains her tips and tricks for a delectable green curry. Photo: Jack Delaney.

Cooking demos followed Sims’ gingery juice. The first was a green curry how-to by veteran chef Shibumi Jones, who runs a locally sourced farm-to-table supper club in the Hudson Valley.

“It’s very important to start with your aromatics,” Jones said. Another tip for maximum flavor? Try deglazing with water, which helps incorporate “all the good stuff that’s stuck on the bottom of the pan” into the dish. And she urged the audience to try using homemade pumpkin puree as a base: “Anything you can put tomatoes in, you can do with pumpkins as well.” 

Her final tip was a tactic to cut down on salt, by way of a science lesson. Acidic seasonings do the trick, because “adding acid is the same thing as adding salt, as far as where it hits on your palate.”

After a second demo on how to make the perfect pared-down Mediterranean salad by mother-daughter duo Estelle and Mona Raad, young essayist April Webster read her piece on food justice, to rousing applause. 

Also present at the event was Dante Arnwine, District Manager for Brooklyn Community Board 9, who is planning to run for the City Council next year in District 41. He echoed organizer Cherokee La Dickens’ sentiments regarding the need to bridge generational divides to build a movement around adequate nutrition, which affects everyone.

“Unfortunately, people are so busy that they don’t have the time to get fresh produce,” he noted. “You’re worried about just [getting] food on the table. You’re not particularly worried about whether it’s healthy or not. And so being able to bring this to where people are is essential, right? We really need more programming like this.”

Arnwine also pointed to the intersections between issues like housing and nutrition, and saw the mayor’s citywide initiative to increase housing stock as an opportunity to advance other causes, too. “As the city continues to build under ‘City of Yes,’ or whatever that looks like, the conversations have to be had between elected officials and developers: ‘Hey, when you’re moving into communities that are clearly food deserts, they need fresh produce.’”

Models drawn from the audience, including Divine Pollard, Cynthia Bishop, and Chef Shibumi, Jones show off designer John Cheek’s latest collection. Photo: Jack Delaney

For chef Jones and wife Alix, who live in Brownsville, the push for access to healthy food is important not only in the context of a neighborhood that is starved of resources generally — including sluggish response times from city agencies for routine requests like removing abandoned cars, which Alix had experienced firsthand — but also within the broader picture of the country’s food systems.

“You see these companies putting all kinds of crap in the food that they, number one, don’t have to tell us about. And number two, it’s just not good for our health, and it’s just not good for the environment.” So Jones was supportive of any opportunity to “encourage any sort of awareness and just to take a step back and re-examine what we’re eating.”

The evening came to a dramatic close with a fashion show curated by John Cheeks, a local dance instructor, designer, and corrections officer who lost his mother, who had also been his business partner, to Covid during the pandemic.

And as residents filed out of the Brownsville Heritage House with full stomachs, still blinking the runway’s dazzle from their eyes, the limelight returned to expanding local access to high-quality produce.

“We would love to have farm to table experiences here in Brownsville,” said La Dickens. “We want healthy food options too, so we’re right here, right now.”

BK Start-Ups Pitch Next Big Thing in Transportation Tech

 

Damir Gilyaz, founder of EZGlyd, attempts to woo an accomplished panel of judges at Make It In Brooklyn’s Future of Transportation Pitch Contest. Photo: Jack Delaney

By Jack Delaney | jdelaney@queensledger.com

On Tuesday, a Shark Tank-esque competition pitted fledgling Brooklyn tech companies — hawking drones, battery stations, and scooters — against each other for a shot at a check, and a stamp of approval for molding New York’s future transit systems.

The venue was auspicious. In 1807, seven years after inventing a usable submarine for Napoleon, the engineer Robert Fulton launched the world’s first commercially successful steamboat up the Hudson, putting New York City on the map as a center for innovative transportation. Over two hundred years later, and only one block away from a street bearing Fulton’s name, a handful of start-up founders were hoping to channel some of his magic.

The Future of Transportation Pitch Contest, which took place in the stylish rafters of Hana House in Downtown Brooklyn, had narrowed the field to just four finalists. The event was organized by Make It In Brooklyn, a Dowwwntown Brooklyn Partnership initiative to support the borough’s entrepreneurs that has given out over $120,000 in seed funding to date.

After an introduction by Downtown Brooklyn Partnership President Regina Myer, the evening was ushered along by emcee Jared Ais, an urban planner with a TikTok following (his handle is @TransitTalks). Filling out the roster were judges Phil Hwang of Dollaride, Judy Chang of the charging infrastructure company Itselectric, Dulcie Canton of CLIP!, NYCDOT veteran Dr. Jannie Gao, and Patrick Knoth, General Manager of Citi Bike.

The first presenter to brave the judges’ questioning was Damir Gilyaz, founder of EZGlyd. He said his product arose from a simple question: “What happens to your cargo scooter when it’s not in use?” The answer came to him while he was waiting for his daughter after her weekend math classes in Manhattan, watching traffic and musing over parking. He decided to design his own scooter, one that could “meet unmet needs for family and small business owners in high density areas,” he said, by using less space. The key features are that the vehicle can be folded vertically, has two removable batteries, and sports strong weather protection. 

One judge asked how much the bike would cost to create. About $1,200 for manufacturing, Gilyaz replied, with a retail price starting at $2,400 to factor in other costs. He also fielded a question about his vision for the company’s future, to which he said that he was eager to expand to other cities in the Northeast if the pilot went smoothly in New York. 

Avol founder Nate Poon and DBP President Regina Myer pose with the prize-winner’s check. Photo: Jack Delaney

The second challenger to approach the dais was David Hammer, President and co-founder of Popwheels. 

“Right now in New York City,” Hammer said, “your pad thai is being schlepped by somebody on an e-bike.” Actually, he went on, that bike is probably one of two models, and they likely comprise one of the largest e-bike fleets in the world — over 100,000 vehicles, potentially. “This shows,” he said, “that electric mobility is not just for bougie Brooklyn dads, and I say this as [one], nor is it just for rich jerks. No, it’s for everybody. It’s for working people to be able to get their jobs done.”

But in Hammer’s telling, e-bike riders have two big problems. They’re plagued by battery fires, and the high cost of owning and operating a bike is also an issue. His company’s fix is to create a citywide battery swapping network, so that e-bikers and specifically delivery workers can recharge their batteries without having to return home. 

When his presentation concluded, judges asked whether he was prepared for battery models to change. What if a new type of battery was incompatible with his kiosks? “There aren’t any new chemistries,” he answered, “that are likely to become online in the next five years that are going to radically reshape and increase by an order of magnitude the kind of the needs that meet micro mobility today.”

Third on deck was Nathan Poon, CEO and co-founder of Avol. Tall and lanky, he took a deep breath, then launched into his pitch for drones that can deliver blood, medication, and biopsies between medical centers.

“Medical deliveries are extremely slow,” he said, explaining the need for his invention. “There’s about 44 million of these deliveries every year, but almost all of them are done by car, which means they take a really long time. They’re limited by roads, traffic and weather conditions, and they’re limited by coordinating drivers. This results in about $30 billion worth of losses every year, just because blood, kidneys, and medications aren’t where they need to be when the patients actually need them.”

Drones had already been proposed to solve for this, he noted, but most models are heavily regulated. The trick is to design a drone that is light enough to avoid triggering regulation, yet heavy-weight and sturdy enough to carry the necessary materials over long distances. So that’s what Poon did, based on his PhD research. The result is a novel aircraft that “fits in the same regulatory class as a traditional quadcopter, but has five times the range and twice the payload volume.”

How do you deal with the fact that different municipalities may have different regulations for drones? Poon said that Avol gets around this issue by landing drones a mile or so outside of the target cities, and then paying couriers to ferry the medical supplies the rest of the way.  

The fourth techie to take the stage was Victor Oribamise, CEO and co-founder of Kquika.

His company wants to minimize the amount of time that planes are out of commission, which Oribamise says costs airlines $3000 per plane, per hour. To accomplish this, he and his partners have designed an artificial intelligence-powered model that helps predict when a plane will need maintenance, before it actually does. “How does it work?” he asked, rhetorically. “We do real time data processing, and we have six behavior models to be able to predict all of these problems.”

As might be expected for an AI-driven product, a judge asked whether Oribamise’s software would replace human jobs. He replied that there aren’t currently enough maintenance engineers to go around, so his model would simply supplement the missing labor force. 

The presentations were finished, and the crowd wandered off to the bar with their free drink tickets. Finally, after fifteen minutes of deliberation by the judges, emcee Ais announced that the winner was… Avol! Poon was swept to the stage, where he posed with a physically enormous (and financially modest) check for $5,000 to support his company’s growth. 

It’s unclear if any of these ventures will take off. But if years from now you get a life-saving blood transfusion delivered to your hospital by drone, remember: it may have started here, just off Fulton St.

New Grants Seek Local Answers to Brooklyn’s Maternal Health Crisis

 

Brooklyn Communities Collaborative convenes leaders in Brooklyn maternal health for a roundtable discussion (Credit: Brooklyn Communities Collaborative).

By Jack Delaney

A new influx of grants is looking to empower a range of local Brooklyn nonprofits to address the nationwide maternal health crisis from the ground up.

On October 30, health equity nonprofit Brooklyn Communities Collaborative (BCC) announced that it was doling out just under $1 million in grants to 10 community-based organizations throughout the borough, with a focus on equipping mothers with better care, supplies, and information. 

This money comes as alarm bells sound at all levels of government over health data that shows little progress is being made in reducing serious complications and fatalities suffered by women during childbirth, a problem few other affluent nations face. 

In Norway, the maternal death rate is a non-issue: statistically, zero women die per 100,000 live births. In Switzerland, that number is one. Sweden, the Netherlands, Japan? All hover around three. 

Yet the U.S. clocks in at 22, the most significant maternal death rate of any high-income country. This rate worsens if you live in New York City, rising to 43. In fact, the greatest determinant of health outcomes for mothers isn’t geography, but race: Black women in the city are nine times more likely than white women to die during pregnancy.

This gap can be explained in part by a deep-seated history of sexism and racism in the healthcare industry, tracing back to slavery. James Marion Sims, the so-called “Father of Gynecology,” developed his techniques in the 1840s through horrific experiments which two enslaved Black women, Lucy and Anarcha, as well as many unnamed others, were forced to undergo without anesthesia. Sims’ statue was on prominent display in Central Park until 2018, when public outcry finally led to its removal — though not without backlash. 

This history extends to the lack of access to midwives and doulas in the U.S., which persists despite the fact that both figure prominently in most countries with lower maternal death rates. “Gynecologists pushed women out of the field of reproductive health by lobbying state legislatures to ban midwifery and prohibit abortions,” writes Professor Michele Godwin of UC Irvine for the ACLU. “Doing so not only undercut women’s reproductive health, but also drove qualified Black women out of medical services.”

Today, the enormous discrepancy in maternal health outcomes between Black and white mothers is perpetuated not only by ongoing structural racism in the health system, said Shari Suchoff, Executive Director of BCC, but by chronic disinvestment in many areas.

 “It isn’t just a healthcare crisis, it’s not just a nutrition crisis, it’s not an access crisis, it’s not an education crisis,” she noted. “It’s all of those things together. And the only way that we can solve complex problems is by working together with people outside of our immediate sector.”

To that end, the grants engage hyperlocal organizations that collectively represent a constellation of approaches.

One of these is Seeds in the Middle, which is getting $50,000 to offer mothers prenatal movement and yoga classes, breathing classes, emotional support services, and a fresh food pantry.

“Your baby can crawl around. You can have a cup of tea or coffee, something that helps mental health,” said Nancie Katz, the organization’s Executive Director, of creating a space where mothers can access healthy food while decompressing. “It’s preventative. What we know to be true in Black and Brown communities is that the rates of diabetes, heart disease, obesity, premature death, infant mortality, and maternal death are two or three times that of any community that’s wealthier, particularly white communities.”

Suchoff also highlighted the importance of prevention. “So much of this crisis really starts many years before women are pregnant,” said Suchoff, referencing the toll that chronic conditions like diabetes and hypertension can take during childbirth, if mothers don’t have access to preventative measures or medication. “I think that’s why we took a broad approach with this grant program.”

Other grantees, like the Arthur Ashe Institute for Urban Health, which is receiving approximately $120,000, are tackling the issue through outreach and community-building initiatives. 

The Institute was founded by its namesake, the influential tennis pro Arthur Ashe, and “utilizes a model of community health empowerment and engagement to promote health equity and social justice through strategic partnerships, innovative community-based health promotion and research programs, and the preparation of a more diverse and inclusive workforce of health professionals.” 

In this case, that model means meeting residents where they are. “We’re going to be collaborating with barbershops and salons to educate folks on the maternal health crisis,” explained Faven Araya, the Institute’s Director of Community Engagement and Health Equity Research. “Oftentimes, pregnant women are dealing with a lot of changes in their body, and some are abnormal. What are the things that should be concerning? What are the things that you should pick up the phone and call your doctor for? What are some of the things that you should go to the emergency room for?”

Aside from information about recognizing warning signs, the barbers and stylists will also be trained to communicate the rights that residents have around getting connected to appropriate care, and the different venues and spaces that are available to them.

BCC is awarding the largest grant is the Brooklyn Perinatal Network, which will receive $250,000 to “invest in studies of upstream and downstream factors impacting the availability and access to community and social services that address health related social needs.” Other big recipients include the Alex House Project, which will “continue providing career opportunities, comprehensive doula services and mental health, case management and psychotherapy/education sessions,” and the Caribbean Women’s Health Association, which has  a mandate to “strengthen community outreach, workshops, and counseling services surrounding sexual health, birth control, and chronic disease management.”

This is the third round of grants awarded through BCC’s Strong Communities Fund, which has given nearly $5 million to local public health groups since it launched in 2020 during the pandemic. Funding for this latest slew of grants drew support from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, which Suchoff pointed to as a significant development. 

“Robert Wood Johnson, a very large national foundation, working in this space is really exciting,” Suchoff said, “because it’s giving up their power to the community to put the money where they think it’s most important. So it represents a real shift in the general funder-fundee power dynamics.”

These local intercessions are especially important, given that a recent report by SUNY Downstate found that the ‘epicenter’ of New York’s maternal health crisis was Central Brooklyn. One hospital in particular, Woodhull Medical Center in Bed-Stuy, has been rocked by claims of malpractice.

But the problem is more systemic than a single hospital. A Department of Health report earlier this year found that “Brooklyn’s communities of color and high-poverty neighborhoods have fewer health care professionals and less hospital capacity per capita than the borough’s wealthier and predominantly white ZIP codes.” And it concluded that wealthier residents went to Manhattan for care, while those on Medicaid were stuck with underfunded local facilities.

City and state officials haven’t been sitting idly by. In 2018, DeBlasio launched a $13 million initiative to close maternal health gaps through implicit bias training, better data collection, support for hospitals, and partnership with community organizations. In 2021, the New York City Board of Health declared racism a public health crisis amid a pandemic that exacerbated longtime inequities, laying them bare.

Governor Kathy Hochul has been proactive on the issue, too. In January, she announced a six-part plan to improve barriers to adequate maternal healthcare, then in May passed a bill making New York the first state to mandate paid prenatal care leave. She penned in $1.6 million for maternal mental health initiatives in the 2025 budget. And in August, she earmarked $27.5 million for maternal and pediatric care at Elmhurst Hospital in Queens, following $8 million in funds for the Morris Heights Health Center in the Bronx to build a state-of-the-art maternal health center. 

Like the BCC, the government is also starting to look beyond the hospital system for answers to the crisis. As of March 1, New York State Medicaid covers doula services — and the Doula Expansion Grant Program will allow the Department to award $250,000 to community-based organizations for the recruitment, training, certification, support, and mentoring of community-based doulas.

Even so, the latest statistics suggest that the maternal health gap may be growing nationwide, even as other countries make strides in closing it. 

Ultimately, Suchoff noted that there’s no “silver bullet” for the crisis. But in her view, the local approach may be an increasingly important component of the solution.

“This is a model that’s worked really well,” she said. “We’ve been able to fund really small organizations who have trouble accessing funding from bigger foundations which can be burdensome to work with, and also created a really nice community of community-based organizations who are working together and trying to break down some of the silos that exist inherently in this work.”

Brooklyn Borough Resident Antonio Reynoso agreed. “For too long, Black and Brown mothers in Brooklyn have been disproportionately impacted by the maternal health crisis,” he said, lauding the grant program. “We cannot secure better outcomes for mothers and infants without first addressing this disparity and identifying the parts of our borough that are most vulnerable. By investing in CBOs that work directly with the most impacted communities, Brooklyn Communities Collaborative is empowering smaller organizations to tackle this crisis and improve maternal health in their own neighborhoods.” 

Industry City Fashion Show Celebrates Brooklyn’s Multicultural Design Talent

 

A runway look from Adeleke Sijuwade’s “L Collection” featured in a “A Very Brooklyn Fashion Show.” Credit: Nicholas Gordon.

By NICHOLAS GORDON

Brooklyn’s multiculturalism and visionary styles were on vivid display at the second annual “A Very Brooklyn Fashion Show” at Industry City in Sunset Park on October 15. It was a kaleidoscopic night of bright fabrics and bold patterns, cool silk and tough denim, graffiti, beads, jewelry, ruffles, and fringe worn by an eclectic medley of fashion models strutting their stuff to a musical playlist as diverse as the borough itself. Hosted by the Brooklyn Made Store during Brooklyn Fashion Week, the show featured the work of over ten local designers with heritage from countries across the globe, including Haiti, India, Nigeria, and Ukraine.

I love seeing all of these different kinds of models and designers in a fashion show,” said  Catherine Schuller, founder of Runway the Real Way, and a curator of the show along with Rick Davy, creator of Fashion Week Brooklyn. “We’re thrilled to be part of an event that honors the spirit and diversity of our community,” Schuller added, in an interview after the show.

As a pioneering plus-size model in the 80’s, Schuller said she was “bit by the diversity bug” and has thrived on creating inclusive catwalks ever since. As a designer herself, Schuller marries comic books with fashion, creating upcycled jewelry and accessories that she describes as “power pieces of heroic adornment,” several of which were featured in the show. 

Catherine Schuller, founder of Runway the Real Way and a curator of “A Very Brooklyn Fashion Show,” addresses the audience on October 15. Credit: Nicholas Gordon.

Designer Adeleke Sijuwade delivered a bracing streetwear collection set to the throwback track “Jump” by 90’s hip-hop duo Kriss Kross, mixing elements of hip-hop, basketball, westerns, cartoons, and Sijuwade’s Nigerian roots. 

“A lot of the things I create for the runway are things I love, and I draw inspiration from things I’m fascinated with,” Sijuwade said, in a phone interview. “It’s natural for me to be attracted to bright colors and patterns with a lot of details, because these are things African people wear everyday.”

Born in Nigeria, Sijuwade moved to the U.S. at age 6. He visits Nigeria a couple of times each year, he said.

While he enjoys being bold and playful with his creative choices, such as by adding Victorian ruffles, wide collar flares, suspenders, sports jerseys, or overalls to his signature baggy looks, Sijuwade said he is always focused on making clothes that are comfortable and accessible for a broad spectrum of humanity.

“It’s about bringing together different design elements in casual structures, clothing that’s wearable for everyone, no matter what shape you’re in,” Sijuwade said.

Several of Sijuwade’s garments featured powerful images of hiphop icons such as Biggie Smalls hand-painted by African artists that he’d collaborated with on trips back to his motherland of Nigeria.

Sijuwade said his goal is to take his painter-designer collaboration to the next level by exhibiting new pieces at a local museum.

Paying homage to heritage through collaboration is a potent approach for designer Renuka Malhi too, whose work was featured in the show under her brand name of “Re’Malhi.”

“Collaborating with other artists really elevates you,” Malhi said, in an interview after the show. “We uplift each other. It’s a different spirit when we work together with other designers because there’s so much to learn.”

Though for her brand she often makes couture gowns for the red carpet, Malhi said she wanted to change it up for this show with a line called “Little Black Secret,” evoking a mysterious autumn vibe. 

In addition to collaborating with shoe designers and Schuller who had some pieces from her line “Power Pieces x S Designs” in the collection, Malhi also teamed up with an artist from Kashmir, India, on a handmade black and white jacket that took several months to complete.

Designer Roselyne Shiyenze takes to the runway with one of her models at the conclusion of the show. Credit: Nicholas Gordon.

“The jacket is coming from the land where artists embroider by hand, sew every single flower, using silks and a lot of fusion with different fabrics,” Malhi said, noting that with her Indian background she’s a huge fan of great textiles and brocades. Malhi was born and raised in Punjab, India, and moved to the U.S. at age 20.

Deeply inspired by the work of her fellow designers in the show, Malhi said she has great appreciation for the creative diversity teeming in Brooklyn and on display in the collections.

“I thoroughly believe that every designer is unique in their designs, everyone brings a story that’s attached to their collection, and I enjoy that,” Malhi said. “I’m looking forward to working with more diversity in the future.”

New Brooklyn Festival Highlights Creole Artists

“What’s beautiful about discovering Creole culture is that you have to embrace multiplicity,” says Kréol Fest organizer Natie.

The idea for Kréol Fest, an upcoming arts bash at Cafe Erzulie in Bushwick on November 3 that aims to celebrate the intersections of Creole cultures through music, dance, visual arts, fashion, and food, came to its organizer, who goes by the mononym Natie, in stages.

The first was in 2020, during the Black Lives Matter protests in Brooklyn. “I felt really lost,” Natie, a classically trained violinist who toured with Beyoncé before launching her solo career in 2018, remembered. “I wasn’t marching, I wasn’t posting about it on social media, and I thought, is this me not being a part of the fight?” But an art curator whom she was friends with told her that while it was important to be fighting injustice, there was also a role for those who could “build something to come back to.” Expanding from that kernel, Natie decided to create a weekly jam session called Sunday Art Hang, based out of the Clinton Hill bar Izzy Rose. 

“It was right after the lockdown,” she said, “and it was about creating a community so that artists wouldn’t go crazy in their heads by themselves. They would have an afternoon to share what they were doing, where they were at, what they were struggling with. It was for us to hear each other and support each other.” Sunday Art Hang is now in its third year, and recently expanded to a new space at another Brooklyn bar, Umbra. 

Yet back during the pandemic, Natie, who is from Réunion, a French department off the coast of Madagascar, found herself for the first time in a bubble with only American friends. “It was a super fun group,” she said. “But when it came to conversations about race, it was really tense.”

“I felt misunderstood, but I realized I also had a lot to learn and understand about the dynamics here: what does ‘Black’ mean, what does ‘white’ mean in this context? That was the awakening of my sense that there is so much to talk about — and without sounding like I’m preaching, I think there’s something to be shared from where I come from, another way to look at how we live together.”

Then, in 2023, Natie connected with a percussion group from Réunion called Rouler Killer that was visiting New York, and convinced them to come to Sunday Art Hang for a night of improvised music. “It was so special,” she said. “That was a preview of what Kréol Fest could be like — that moment really fueled me.”

The third and final component settled into place when Natie’s partner relayed a conversation he’d had with a Haitian artist, whom he was telling about her Creole roots. To the artist, the fact that she came from Réunion seemed disqualifying. “But,” the artist said, “they’re not Creole!”

A recent jazz night at Cafe Erzulie, which will be the venue for Kréol Fest.

It’s in this crucible of questions — about race and belonging, the far-reaching resonances of the term ‘Creole,’ and the role that art has to play — that the festival has taken shape. Running from 6 p.m. until midnight, it will assemble ten artists (including saxophonist Kafele Bandele, visual artist Watson Mere, and fashion curator SA-RA) from a wide range of disciplines, representing five different countries: New Orleans, Réunion, Guyana, Trinidad, and Haiti. The event will kick off with a panel discussion, followed by live performances and an array of vendors. 

“What’s beautiful about discovering Creole culture is that you have to embrace multiplicity,” Natie stressed. “Because by nature it is a blend. It’s even more important now, in such a divided climate. Everything is polarizing, a binary choice, and when you engage with Creole culture you have to expand that vision and embrace the fact that it’s this and this and this, and it coexists.”

Ideally, Natie hopes the event will extend beyond this initial installment to become something more. “I want Kréol Fest to exist in ten years,” she said. “I want it to travel. The idea is to uplift each other, and through this shared history see where we can grow stronger as a community.”

Bagpipes, Neo-Trad, and Everything in Between at NYC Tattoo Con

By Jack Delaney

A visitor to the New York Tattoo Convention last Friday might have been caught off guard by the sudden blare of bagpipes, erupting from three kilted men as they strode down the aisles of artists’ stalls. But to Donal Cranny, one of the event’s three organizers, they were no sideshow. Instead, the marching musicians were emblematic of a broader approach: “We wanted a very global experience,” Cranny said. 

To that end, the show assembled 340 artists from across North and South America, Europe, Asia, and Australia who converged on Duggal Greenhouse in the Brooklyn Navy Yard over the weekend, from October 18 to 20, for the annual convention’s third edition. Their art drew over 4,500 attendees, who clustered around food trucks, danced to live acts like the hard rock outfit Rebel Angels, and lay patiently on tables as steady hands added fresh designs to their collections.

Tattooing has a long and checkered history in New York City. In 1870, Martin Hildebrandt founded one of the first tattoo parlors on Oak Street in Manhattan, catering to soldiers and sailors for whom a tattoo was partly style, and partly a means for their body to be identified if they were killed in battle. The city banned tattooing altogether in 1961, catalyzing a Prohibition-like underground scene and persisting for thirty six years, until 1997. Today, events like the New York Tattoo Convention are evidence that the practice’s old connotations may be slowly shifting.

Michaelle Fiore, who opened a studio in Gowanus this summer and had attended the previous year’s convention at South Street Seaport, said that the pandemic had changed the scene significantly. “A lot of people are either opening private studios,” she said, “or going in the direction of co-ops where multiple artists are pitching in for a space and then splitting rent down the middle, rather than working for a shop owner.” In her view, customers were gravitating more and more towards these new models — studios based out of artist’s homes, for example — and modern styles, too, such as neo-traditional, a digitally-inflected take on classic motifs. Her own preferences are surrealism, anime, and fine line work.

Fiore also noted that she was already seeing a post-pandemic bump in demand for cover-ups and laser removal, as the pent-up demand for tattoos gave way to second thoughts. Fiore’s mother, a painter herself, sat beside her on a swivel chair and chimed in with the refrain of parents everywhere: “Think about what you’re going to get first!”

Nearby, as “Psycho Killer” by the Talking Heads played on the loudspeakers, and a shirtless man showed off two hyper-realistic babies’ faces, one on each of his pecs — plus a third on his shoulder blade, which he displayed with a smile to an admiring passerby — Coy Barrientos waited sagely in his sunny stall for customers. This was his first year participating, and he had only recently moved to Grand Junction, CO, from his home in Costa Rica, for a residency at Elysium Studios. 

“I’m definitely surprised that I’m even able to make a living out of art,” he said, beaming. He had worked his way up from tattooing friends in his bedroom, to a three-month apprenticeship, before landing this position in the U.S. Like Fiore, he was influenced by Japanese iconography, and agreed that the industry seemed to be changing. One factor, with which artists will increasingly need to reckon, is artificial intelligence.

     

“You kind of notice the before and after of someone’s Instagram page,” Barrientos said, “when they start to use AI.” For some artists, he saw a marked improvement in their work, so he hesitated to condemn it wholesale. “I don’t really think it’s bad, but it’s a contradiction. If you’re making art, you’re supposed to be making it yourself — otherwise, you’re not really the artist. At the end of the day, AI art is not yours.”

Chumreon Sutcharitakul, owner of the Tattoo Stock shop in Astoria, said that he occasionally used AI-created designs for reference, but doubted that the artist’s role would ever be fully eclipsed. His own start had been decidedly low-tech: with “nothing much” on Youtube in the early aughts, he had resorted to buying instructional DVDs made by tattooer Jeff Gogue on Google. Then, in 2009, he found a spot at a studio on West 4th Street with a clientele of mostly tourists. 

“I didn’t have the chance to pick something I wanted to do. It was good for me, and it’s good for beginners because they have to practice many styles,” said Sutcharitakul, who transitioned to his own studio in 2016 and moonlights as an amateur billiards player. “Me, I call my style money-listic. You pay me, I do whatever.”

Though not every vendor was so explicitly mercantile, few contested that tattooing was just as much a matter of savvy business sense as it was artistic skill. “Nowadays, social media is big,” Sutcharitakul explained. “If you don’t learn that too, you’re dead.” Upstairs, as the sun began its descent over the East River, fellow industry veteran Ross Given seconded that sentiment. While he called himself a “dinosaur” when it came to social media, he had a secret weapon: his two kids, whom he relies upon when he needs to shoot a video for Instagram Reels or TikTok.

Given, owner of the Anubis Tattoo Studio in Greenock, Scotland, has been tattooing for 17 years, but he stumbled into it initially. “This wasn’t a career plan,” he said, “or a conscious decision.” After leaving the Royal Air Force, where he had served for 12 years, he had been gearing up to start a new job in private security. By that point, he had been tattooing part-time for two years, inspired by an artist in Norfolk, England, who had given him tattoos of his own while he was stationed there. While back home briefly after military service, he ultimately decided to take the plunge and stay to open his own shop.

“I was kind of lucky, I had some money put aside,” Given said. “And I just thought, ‘I’m going to give it a go.’ In my hometown, there were only two other artists. They were older guys, they weren’t very good.” He flashed a grin. “So I thought, I can’t be any worse.”

At the convention, Given’s winding path seemed the rule rather than the exception. Another artist, Alan Gray, had started tattooing at age 14 while part of a gang in Mexico City, and had dreamed of attending a prestigious program at the National Autonomous University of Mexico for plastic arts. At 20, he moved to New York and has been tattooing professionally ever since. “You’ve got to love this,” he said, “and you’ve got to keep working every day.”

Emanuele Baracchi, cleaning his equipment, explained that he hailed from a small town outside Bergamo, Italy. “[Before tattooing,] I was doing a bunch of jobs. My father had a big pub back in Italy, so I was taking care of the pub as a manager. I worked as a gardener, and as a croupier.” His last job was in a factory that made metal connectors for trains, before he promised himself he would follow his passion for tattoo collecting and become an artist himself.

No matter their background — a past life in the Air Force, a gang, or the foothills of the Alps — that devotion to their work, and desire to keep making, were common denominators. Now at The Grand Reaper, a shop in San Diego, Baracchi summed up the profession’s goals thus: “You try to make a living, but by expressing art through people. And you try to make people confident in their lives. It’s like armor. Every tattoo should have a meaning, a reason.”

The convention concluded with a ceremony for the Best of Show, which went to Hugo Feist and Anton Mariushev for a collaborative piece. 

Cranny and business partner Roy Keane conceived of the concept in 2020, as the pandemic was raging. It took two years to actualize that vision, but they are now planning a fourth installment, set to be in Brooklyn again, and this summer they launched a sister convention back in Belfast, Ireland. 

“We’re three years in — it’s become like riding a bike,” Cranny joked. “And I like to think that we’re creating a community for people who want to come back.” 

Until then, the artists will be scattered across the globe, honing their crafts for next year.

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