Brooklyn Star, Author at Brooklyn Downtown Star

Vibe and Vibrancy: Interview with Artist Fred Bendheim

Brooklyn Star on February 14, 2024

Artist Describes Shaped Paintings and Public Art Designed by Intuition

By Meagan J. Meehan | news@queensledger.com

Vividly colored shapes and overlaid hues are combined to create eye-catching and vibrant sculptural paintings which first take root in the mind of artist Fred Bendheim who subsequently brings these abstract visions to life in his Prospect Heights studio. Originally from Phoenix, Arizona, Fred apprenticed with artist Philip Curtis—a founding artist of The Phoenix Art Museum—when he was a teenager. Fred then attended The University of California, Davis, where he studied art with William T. Wiley and Wayne Thiebaud before earning a B.A. in Art from Pomona College. He started his career as a professional artist in San Francisco, California, and exhibited his unique pieces at SFMoMA.

In 1984, Fred moved to Brooklyn and has stayed in New York ever since. His work has appeared at The Museum of Arts and Design in NYC, The Montclair Art Museum, The Scottsdale Museum of Contemporary Art, The National Museum of Costa Rica, The Neiman-Marcus Collection, Bradley International Airport, The Brooklyn Public Library, Sotheby’s Realty and many more. Fred is also a muralist who has completed four public murals—including two large painted murals in Brooklyn. His artworks can be found in South Korea, Costa Rica, Italy and Germany and he is presently represented by several New York galleries including Julie Keyes Fine Art, 490 Atlantic Gallery, and 440 Gallery.

As with many artists of the modern age, Fred also holds a part-time job…albeit one that is firmly rooted in the creative arena: he is a teaching artist at The Art Students League of New York and he has also instructed students at The College of Mt. Saint Vincent, Young Audiences of New York, The Brooklyn Museum, and Learning Leaders.

Fred feels that his artistic inspirations come from a strong sense of intuition, composition and design; form, line, and color are his means of communicating specific feelings and his art spans boundaries between painting, sculpture, figuration and abstraction. Currently, Fred is keeping himself busy working on a brand-new series of abstract-shaped paintings for shows in New York galleries including Brooklyn’s 440 Gallery and 490 Atlantic Gallery.

Fred recently discussed his art and career via an exclusive interview.

Meagan Meehan (MM): How did you initially get interested in art and how did you develop your original style?

Fred Bendheim (FB): As a child I was lucky to grow up in an interesting house full of art. My parents had art from their families from Germany and New York, and they collected some contemporary artists, and Native American artists where we lived in Arizona. They also made some art, ceramics and wood carvings. I remember my father once made napkin holders from the skeletons of cacti. The desert landscape was always present as well, which had a visual influence on me. My style developed slowly over fifty years of making art and has gone through many permutations.

MM: You are known for your sculptural wall hangings, but you have also created fountains! What is that process like and where can the general public see these fountains?

FB: I’ve always been fascinated by water and all of the forms it takes, and I have made about five fountains/sculptures over the years. Two are made from stone and concrete and are permanently on display in Arizona (one in a Frank Lloyd Wright building in Scottsdale). The others were temporary and more whimsical—one was made from suspending celery stalks which I used as channels for the water. For another fountain I used plastic forms and translucent hoses. The sound of the water is important as well. I’ve also painted themes of water over the years. Several years ago, I had a mini-retrospective on the theme of water. It’s a theme I return to. Water is always water, but always different, like a river is never the same water from moment to moment. Its sameness flows into its mutability.

MM: You also make public art, such as murals. So, where can Brooklynites see your murals and how did these opportunities come to you?

FB: I’ve made several murals and public art pieces in New York. Some were temporary installations, like “Song For Harlem” (2013) which was commissioned by Chashama for a large storefront in Harlem. I covered the windows with cut yellow paper, and then installed blue lights inside the building, so the appearance changed from day to night. I’ve also collaborated with young student artists and had their art printed on billboards on Fourth Avenue in Brooklyn, and I made a mural from food packaging for a grocery store with students. The murals I was very proud of were two large site-specific murals I made for Industry City in 2019 called “Creationism” and “Evolution.” They were very successful works and were well-received by the public. They were mostly abstract but had some recognizable features like snakes and a figure of the Virgin of Guadalupe. Unfortunately, the murals were destroyed. People ask me why, and I can’t explain it, except to say these people had different notions about art than I do. I think they were interested in using art as PR via social media posts. So, the more posts of different art, the more PR (and profits). Since then, and because many people complained about their destruction, I believe they have changed their policy with regards to murals they commission, but it came too late for my murals. So, I learned a painful lesson about making public art. I don’t think people realize the extent of work and feelings that goes into artmaking. It can feel similar to making (and losing) a child.

MM: You grew up in Arizona and spent a lot of your early adulthood in California but now you live and work in Brooklyn. How does the art scene in Brooklyn compare to the one out West?

FB: I’ve been in Brooklyn since 1984 and I’ve seen a lot of changes here. I did spend my early years out west but can’t really say what the art scene is like there now. Generally speaking, there’s more art and less nature here in NYC, but I continue to be inspired by nature, even if it’s an internalized nature. Brooklyn probably has more artists than anywhere in the world, and more galleries are popping up here. I live near the Brooklyn Museum which is a great resource. I like art that is universal in its appeal. The subject matter can be anything: Brooklyn, political or abstract feeling-based art, but the form and structure has to be universal, so no matter when and where it’s seen it’s still relevant. I’ve recently moved my studio to my home in Prospect Heights. I have a lot of plants in two gardens, so I’m sure that will affect my art.

MM: Do you feel that the vibrancy of Brooklyn inspires you at all and what’s your favorite thing about being a Brooklyn-based artist?

FB: I like being able to see the sky in Brooklyn, as opposed to being in the more closed spaces of Manhattan. I like having some outdoor spaces to play in here. Space is very important both physical and mental space.

MM: How did you find gallery and museum representation for your work?

FB: New York has a lot of opportunities for artists. Some of it is networking and there’s some luck involved too.

MM: You have art in Neiman Marcus stores—that’s actually how I initially found out about your work! How did that opportunity come to you?

FB: I have a painting called “Thundercloud” in the Neiman-Marcus collection on Long Island. That happened through an art consultant from the Bay Area that knew of my work.

MM: You’re a member of the 440 Gallery in Park Slope which is an artist collective. How has that helped you gain exposure for your work?

FB: 440 Gallery has been in Park Slope for almost twenty years. We have 15 artist members and an enthusiastic and dedicated following. I also show my work at 490 Atlantic Gallery in downtown Brooklyn. I had an exhibition there called Alltogethernow which consisted of twelve of my recent abstract shaped paintings.

MM: You work as an art teacher, so what is some of the advice that you give to budding artists?

FB: In technical terms I tell them that if the art isn’t working it’s a 99% chance it’s a compositional problem. Even if the color looks wrong, it’s composition. In terms of being an artist and having some ambitions for your art-good luck! Just keep going…

MM: Does working with students influence your own creativity at all?

FB: I like the energy of working with students, especially if they’re serious about their art. Sometimes the beginner’s mind is best for making art. Picasso said he spent years learning to paint like a master and spent his whole life learning to paint like a child.

MM: You have written articles about art for a British medical journal called The Lancet. How does art figure into a medical journal and what topics have your articles focused on?

FB: I wrote for The Lancet in a section they had on culture. I wrote mostly reviews of art shows, and I wrote a series of articles on science and art. Through those articles, I was invited to attend a forum on “Art and Astronomical Phenomena” in Venice, where I showed some of my work dealing with astronomical themes.

MM: Be honest, out of all of your creations, do you have any particular favorite piece?

FB: My murals at Industry City were art that I was very proud of. The twelve paintings I had on display at 490 Atlantic are some of my favorites. I also have some earlier work that I’m pleased with in hotels, hospitals and in storage. I am proud of my body of work consisting of hundreds of paintings, drawings and collage work.

MM: You have had an incredible international career, but what would you say has been the highlight of your artistic career so far?

FB: I’ve enjoyed doing art residencies in Costa Rica. I’ve been going there since 2001 and it’s been a nice place to work and do some things I wouldn’t normally do here in Brooklyn, like use the tropical foliage and leaf-cutter ants to make art. I am going to Mexico soon to see the art there.

MM: Can you tell us a little more about the new art that you’re actively making?

FB: I’ve recently been working in aluminum. Sometimes I paint on it, and sometimes I use it raw. I use conventional tools for drawing as well as an iPad to design them. I have them laser cut (instead of doing the cutting myself like I usually do). Making them in aluminum allows the forms to be more varied, thinner for instance, and they can be shown outside.

MM: What are your ultimate goals for the future and is there anything else that you would like to mention?

FB: I’d like more people to see my work, so I’m looking around for new places to show it, including more public spaces. I’d also like to teach more and perhaps travel with my work. The artists at the 440 Gallery and I will be traveling to Berlin this July for a group show at a gallery there. We are doing an exchange show with EP Contemporary Gallery in Berlin, so the artists from Berlin will be showing at 440 Gallery in June and then we will go to Berlin in July.

To learn more about Fred, visit his official website: fredbendheim.com. You can also follow him on Instagram @artist_fredbendheim.

The Average New York Worker Predicted to ‘Burnout’ on June 20th 2024, Finds Study

Brooklyn Star on February 13, 2024

• This burnout date happens 172 days into 2024.

• Lawyers experience burnout the soonest; those in energy the latest.

• New interactive map for the predicted burnout days for workers in each state.

A screenshot of the Software Connect interactive map on burnout, with the mouse hovering over New York State.

In an era where digital connectivity knows no bounds, countless workers find themselves trapped in a seemingly endless workday. Remote work, once seen as a liberating evolution, now chains many to a cycle of perpetual availability. With smartphones pinging after hours with emails and schedules, the division between work and rest blurs into obscurity.

To rub salt in the wound, IT sheriffs track the clickety-clack of productivity—or lack thereof. Yet, this relentless grind exacts a heavy toll: chronic workplace stress. Manifesting as extreme exhaustion, a growing resentment toward one’s job, and a marked drop in performance, these symptoms herald the onset of burnout – a state that straddles the line between stress and a depression borne of overwork.

Illustration by Christine Stoddard.

SoftwareConnect.com recently conducted a survey of 3,000 workers, which sought to pinpoint the day the average worker succumbs to burnout. Alarmingly, the threshold is crossed just 183 days into the year, by July 1st.

But for legal professionals, the sprint to burnout ends even sooner. By June 10th, lawyers are already throwing in their briefcases, and who can blame them? With notoriously long work hours, they’re in a league of their own when it comes to occupational exhaustion. In contrast, energy professionals demonstrate remarkable resilience, burning out the latest. By July 18th, while others are faltering, those in the energy sector are still going strong. With the critical responsibility of maintaining our power supplies and often working in challenging conditions, they manage to stay powered up longer than anyone else.

Regionally, Delaware’s workers bear the brunt of burnout earliest, by March 19th, while those in New York encounter it later, on June 20th – a full 172 days into the year.

Software Connect has created an interactive map showing the predicted burn out days for workers in each state (click on ‘embed’ to host the map on your site)

“In the current landscape, where technology has rendered us constantly accessible, the pressure to perform is relentless,” states Jeff Budiac from Software Connect. “Our survey reveals a troubling trend towards a nation on the edge of occupational burnout. It’s a clarion call for a re-evaluation of work-life balance in the digital age.”

Source: SoftwareConnect.com

Tribute to Kellogg’s Diner

Brooklyn Star on February 12, 2024

By Madeline Edalow | news@queensledger.com

A view of Kellogg’s Diner from December 2023. Photo by Christine Stoddard.

New York City is ever-changing and long time residents grow accustomed to iconic establishments disappearing.

I am a life-long New Yorker. Within my lifetime, the gentrification of Northern Brooklyn has progressed at lightening speed. The luxury establishments that continue to open often feel inaccessible to me. I often feel like a tourist in the city I grew up in, not recognizing neighborhoods where I used to spend a lot of time.

As the area surrounding the Lorimer L train in Williamsburg Brooklyn felt the impact of trendy hipsterdom, one spot felt accessible to a wide range of people. I am speaking of Kellogg’s Diner.

Kellogg’s Diner has been open for nearly a century and will be opening with new ownership this year after renovations are complete. The original owners of the restaurant gave up after a long period of financial hardship. Irene Siderakis, the most recent owner, struggled to keep the doors open after the tragic passing of her husband, who previously ran the restaurant. The new management plans to make changes to the establishment, so that it is more appealing to neighborhood patrons. It is still uncertain whether the new restaurant will hold up to what Kellogg’s represented.

Kellogg’s, in its way, was a universal meeting space. I don’t think I’ve eaten there once without seeing someone else I knew. The 24-hour schedule caused every person who partied nearby until the early hours of the morning to commune at the diner. The schedule also motivated some people to travel from distant neighborhoods to eat and drink.

I remember performing at an open mic on the Lower East Side and heading to Kellogg’s with a comedian friend after the end of the mic. I ordered the most enormous mozzarella sticks I’ve ever had. I was extremely intoxicated, but I remember that night well because I ran into an old friend I’d known through high school friends. I had entered with a friend I knew through mostly transplant-filled art scenes when I ran into this friend from the past. As a lifelong Brooklynite, it is always comforting to run into people associated with my upbringing, especially as it gets rarer and rarer. Like I said, Kellogg’s served as a universal meeting space, where old New York meets new New York.

The plans to redevelop the diner include reinstating the 24-hour schedule and a new Tex-Mex menu. The new owner and management have a history of running other successful trendy establishments. The restaurant will also have a new cocktail bar.

I imagine the new direction for the famed diner location will be a success as the new influx of Brooklyn residents can’t seem to get enough of establishments that sell fancy cocktails.

I wish the new ownership well and hope they are able to keep their doors open for another century, even with the changes. The building staying a somewhat similar business is comforting to me and likely others who struggle to recognize their home city. I am hopeful that the menu will be affordable to the average New Yorker and not just the progressively wealthier residents of Williamsburg.

In this ever-changing city, it is harder and harder for classic spots, like neighborhood diners, to keep their doors open as they don’t provide for the modern tastes that have become popular in Brooklyn. I hope that even with the differences, there will still be places where new New York can meet with old New York. We will have to wait and see if the new management of Kellogg’s can provide for a wide community. I certainly hope so.

Madeline Edalow is an artist of many mediums and writer raised in Brooklyn. She is a graduate of City As School, the oldest alternative public high school in New York City. For work, she face paints at events of all kinds and is also a teaching artist at schools all over the city. She is a current student studying Public Administration at Medgar Evers College. She is deeply inspired by her upbringing in this wonderful city full of people from all over the world.

Brooklyn Poetry Feature: Madeleine French

Brooklyn Star on February 8, 2024

The following appeared in the Feb. 8, 2024 print edition of the newspaper:

This week, we feature the talents of poet Madeleine French:

“Geode”

As we reached Tompkins Avenue, a Dave Brubeck tune tinkled from a restaurant,

while a little further down a breeze unfurled yellow, orange and blue

embroidered skirts on the sidewalk outside a vintage shop.

Our restaurant patio shone with subdued light through an opaque white roof.

Even the butter lettuce gave a side eye to our muted words, as if it could tell

a melancholy errand brought us here. And our smiles might have been

a little stilted, until the gelato melted in our mouths and made them real.

Home now, I’m not summoning up the charming little bookstore,

with its colorful titles lined up on shelves and tables.

(New and used together, just as you’d have arranged them)

Or remembering the bass beat blasting from a block party’s speakers

as we walked by, vibrating with the breath in my chest.

I’m not picturing the toddler in pink tulle, holding her daddy’s hand,

reflecting the uncertainty of each hesitant step in her comical frown—

exactly as you once did.

Instead, I’m thinking of the shimmering quartz you parked on

your new white windowsill, just until you find the right place for it,

sparkling silvery diamond white next to your African violet.

Something beautiful in you might just be breaking open, too.

Art photography by Christine Stoddard.

“On Brooklyn Bridge”

Look at us, dressed for two different days

as if we’d watched dueling forecasts

I’m in a quilted jacket with jeans

while your flannel shirt

flaps in the breeze

over your tee and shorts

Puffy clouds cover the sky

like some preschooler went rogue

with the Elmer’s and cotton balls

Whatever, it all works

—even if no one can make you as mad

as I can—

Just keep walking over these wooden slats

as the bridge slopes toward South Street

the dark river glittering in the gaps

where the sun pokes its fingers

Art photography by Christine Stoddard.

“Your Heart, Across Prospect Park”

Pondering

blush-orange clouds

crackled over Sarasota Bay,

Maybe

I met six-thirty

from the wrong side.

In this dreamlight, I see you

Tramping

your sidewalk’s crusted slush

in Brooklyn,

Maybe

you’ve just set off

(chin tucked,

black hood bobbing)

Bearing

your battered heart

across Prospect Park.

Maybe

it’s a matter of timing

that’s all—right now, it’s

neither wrong, nor right

Crossing

Seventh, wrinkling your nose

at exhaust fumes

Maybe

you’ll lift your eyes

when my rosy clouds paint

your rooftops

Living

a movie, as a new dawn

slaps your cheek:

“Snap out of it!”

Maybe

you’ll see it’s day breaking,

flushed and undone

Not

your heart.

Art photography by Christine Stoddard.

Madeleine French lives in Florida and Virginia with her husband. A Best of the Net nominee, her work appears in ONE ART, Dust Poetry Magazine, West Trade Review, Roi Faineant Press, Door Is A Jar, and elsewhere. She is working on a full-length poetry collection.

‘Teaching On Borrowed Time’: The Voice of an Adjunct Professor

Brooklyn Star on February 8, 2024

By Laurence C. Schwartz | news@queensledger.com

Editor’s Note: In our sister paper, the Queens Ledger, reporters Charlie Finnerty and Celia Bernhardt have been covering the last-minute layoffs of more than 20 faculty at Queens College-CUNY. This week, we are profiling a book related to adjunct injustice, including intense schedules and financial challenges, as well as some of the rewards of the job, with mention of Brooklyn.

The following is an excerpt from the book Teaching on Borrowed Time: An Adjunct’s Memoir by Laurence C. Schwartz of New York City, reprinted with permission here. The book guides the reader through his thirty-plus years of teaching part-time as an adjunct lecturer on the university circuit. Always unpredictable and never dull, Schwartz’s journey will take him to twenty different colleges and to twenty-three different subjects. Given that 65 percent of the nation’s undergraduate faculty consists of adjuncts, who have uncertain job security, Teaching on Borrowed Time gives voice to the adjunct community as well as those who stubbornly forge ahead in their professional quests for the sheer joy of the work.

You will find two passages about the author’s time teaching at Kingsborough Community College, part of the CUNY system:

Sometime after the first of the year, I was speaking with a Dr. Mortimer Becker in his office in the Western Cluster of Kingsborough Community College of the City University of New York. The Aspen Institute College Excellency Program ranked KCC among the top four community colleges in the nation. Dr. Becker chaired the Department of Communication and Performing Arts. From what little time I spent in his office, I concluded that I was in the presence of a true gentleman. When I attended Dr. Becker’s ceremonial dinner some months after my interview, one of the department’s secretaries referred to his “quiet dignity.”

One day, about halfway into the spring semester, I went to the Department of Communications and Performing Arts to check my mail. Dr. Becker emerged from his office. When he hired me, it was his last semester before retiring. During my first semester at KCC, Dr. Becker still used his office, but he already named a Dr. Cliff Hesse as the new chairman. After Dr. Becker emerged from his office, he smiled at me and, with the wave of his hand, gave me a lyrically dismissive gesture. On hindsight, I interpret this gesture to mean that I was way too young and clueless to really understand mortality. I think that when he made the gesture, he knew he didn’t have a long time left in this world. Dr. Becker died a few months later.

I was referred to Dr. Becker by Dr. Spector at LIU. I believe that during our interview, Dr. Becker was evaluating and assessing me, trying to sense if I had the strengths needed to teach a public speaking course at a reputable community college. At LIU, Dr. Pasternak just wanted to meet and make sure I was a well-spoken young man. I very much liked Dr. Becker. He made me feel welcomed. Mind you, I still tasted ash in my mouth from waiting tables and working in tense environments. Perhaps you can understand why I was so impressed by Dr. Becker’s gentleness and “quiet dignity.” When one works for curt and cold managers, one can tend to overappreciate plain humanity.

When I sensed the conclusion of my interview with Dr. Becker, I asked him, “So can I teach a course for you?”

“I’ll give you two. Come with me.”

He stood, came around from behind his desk, and made a gesture befitting a nobleman that parlayed that I was to lead the way. He certainly had a way of gesturing, Dr. Becker did. When he followed me out of his office, he placed his hand on my shoulder and said to his secretary, “Larry will be joining our adjunct faculty.” Then he turned to me. “Like to fill out the paperwork now?”

“Of course.”

Then Dr. Becker nodded to his secretary, cuing her to begin the process.

This was style!

“Welcome to Kingsborough,” his secretary said. And she meant it. She was a sweet elderly woman. There was another elderly secretary in the office who was just as sweet. I have since come to learn that among faculty and administration in academia, sweetness can be a welcomed surprise; eccentricity, a find for the ages. A cool and distant politeness is the norm.

I’ve always regretted not having the opportunity to get to know Dr. Becker. I suppose I could have learned a good deal from him about a great many things. He was the kind of man who, if you poked your head in his door and asked to see him about something, he would stop whatever he was doing and give you his time. Dr. Becker’s replacement, Dr. Cliff Hesse, was no different. A good man was chosen by a good man.

•••

Another small victory at KCC was introducing a couple of students to two of the books that I loved. One of the students was a jittery yet lithe Hispanic with a pencil-thin mustache. There was a restlessness in him that I recognized on the very first day of class. To this young man, I introduced Time of the Assassins by Henry Miller. This is Henry Miller’s tribute to French poet Arthur Rimbaud. You can appreciate it on more than one level, not the least of which is ecstatic appreciation one writer has for another. Another level is Miller’s dissection of the poet’s role in society. Another is Miller’s facile psychological analysis of Rimbaud. And, too, there is the sheer buoyancy of Miller’s prose. There are enough goodies on the plate to choose from.

When I handed the young man the book, he immediately turned to the first page and began reading.

“Thank you,” he said, “but why me?”

“Why not you?” I rejoined.

Another student to whom I introduced one of my more exciting and informative reads was a rotund young man with a jolly disposition. If he’d been dressed in red velvet and had a white beard on him and a red stocking cap on his head, he could have easily played Santa Claus’s young understudy. Why would I give a copy of Jean Paul Sartre’s Anti-Semite and Jew to such a young man? Like Time of the Assassins, you can appreciate Anti-Semite and Jew on more than one level, not the least of which is its probing examination of the bigoted and racist mind. In the spring of ’92, news of the Brooklyn killing of Yusef Hawkins and the Crown Heights riot were still fresh. Racism in America would always be a fresh topic of discussion, even if dishonestly approached. I was sure this young man could take something away from Sartre’s work. Anti-Semite and Jew was terrifically accessible.

Both young men thanked me when they returned the books, and both told me they enjoyed it—small but sweet victories.

Laurence C. Schwartz is a New York based theatre director and educator. He recently directed for the New York Theatre Festival. Last spring he directed Sam Shepard’s “True West” for the NYPL’s Special Event Series. He is currently directing for The Secret Theatre’s Short Play Festival. Laurence is an Adjunct Lecturer at Mercy University in Manhattan where he teaches Communications Arts and Cinema Studies.

Teaching on Borrowed Time can be found on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, LibroWorld.com, Magers & Quinn Booksellers, and eBay.

The Whimsicals: Mosaic Artwork That Delights and Amuses

Brooklyn Star on February 8, 2024

An Interview with Stained Glass Artist Sandra Forrest

By Meagan J. Meehan | news@queensledger.com

Sandra (“Sandy”) Forrest is the creator of vividly-colored mosaic artwork which immediately grabs attention due to its vibrancy and equilibrium between abstract and figurative work. In her translucent glass pieces—which expertly use color, texture, shape, and light to create a cohesive composition—human figures lounge in pools, fly through the sky, or fan themselves femininely, typically surrounded by backgrounds of shapes and patterns and colors that hark back to abstract expressionist approaches to art. She is arguably best known for her “Whimsicals” series of multidimensional opaque glass mosaics that feature humorous scenes. This collection, more than any other, is a direct reflection and extension of Sandy’s book illustrations, which is another medium that she is passionate about.

“Lady With a Fan” by Sandra Forrest

Sandy is currently associated with the Brooklyn Artists Waterfront Coalition (BWAC) in Red Hook but she started her career in California where she earned a B.A. in Graphic Communications at San Diego State University. Upon relocating to New York, she earned an M.A. in Art Education from Brooklyn College.

Sandy recently granted an exclusive interview where she discussed her experiences working as an artist and creatively thriving in Brooklyn.

Meagan Meehan (MM): How did you initially get interested in art and how did you get into book illustration and stained glass?

Sandra Forrest (SF): I was a graphic design major in college and an illustration minor. I was an art director in children’s magazine and book publishing, including Golden Books, Weekly Reader, and others. I have illustrated over 60 books and co-wrote three, two of which are graphic novels. The mosaics, especially the Whimsicals, are a direct extension of my book illustrations, just using a new medium. Glass is a fascinating medium since light is one of the materials I use.

MM: You are known for your “Whimsicals” which are art pieces with a humorous edge. What are some of the most memorable pieces in this series?

SF: I made (and sold) several versions of “Coney Island Midway,” which are fun because of the characters, some quite real. One hot July day ten years ago I drove to Coney to take pictures of real people and turned them into ceramic. Also, I sent you a favorite called “Lady With a Fan After Klimt” which is a mix of ceramic and metallic mosaic pieces. I love the mix of colors and textures, flat and bas relief.

MM: How do you think visual art and humor can inform one another?

SF: I don’t see much humorous art in shows and galleries. Maybe if it’s humorous it’s not taken seriously, which is a shame. We all need more laughs.

MM: You are part of the Brooklyn Waterfront Artists Coalition (BWAC) in Red Hook. So, how did you get involved with that organization and how have they helped you further your work?

SF: BWAC has provided a strong and supportive venue to show and sell my work in member and juried shows. It’s exciting and rewarding to be a part of that art scene and being around other artists. We all work in such different ways that it’s thrilling to see new work from friends, especially when we reopen the gallery in April and we have had a chance to work over the winter. I am the Vice President, so the winter is also really full getting organized for the 2024 shows, there were six Zoom meetings last week alone. So much goes into the background: member committees work on publicity, grant-writing, exhibitions and events, membership, governance issues, and strategic planning. Once the show season starts there isn’t as much time to do all that. We also do a lot of community outreach, such as with the Red Hook Business Alliance, Brooklyn Public Library events, Park Slope Windsor Terrace Artists, and more.

MM: Do you feel that the vibrancy of Brooklyn—especially Red Hook—inspires you and what’s your favorite thing about being a Brooklyn-based artist?

SF: Brooklyn overall has become an exciting and, as you say, vibrant art scene. It seems that wherever you go—Provence, Rome—everyone knows Brooklyn is a cool, creative place. You don’t even have to say Brooklyn, New York. Just Brooklyn is enough. Red Hook has an outlaw vibe which I really like. It’s in New York but in some ways, not really. I look at the Civil War-era warehouses where the gallery is and wonder what crazy/wonderful and large work is being done there. Artists come by and tell us they are making big wood sculptures just down the street, or baby clothes! It’s all about having the space. And the visual drama of the area is just inspiring. The sunsets! OMG!! That statue! As far as visual inspiration, I have made many mosaics of the bridges but finally moved on to other subjects.

MM: How do you go about finding opportunities to exhibit your work?

SF: Ten years ago, I applied to every craft fair within an hour of Brooklyn: New Jersey, Connecticut, Brooklyn, Westchester. Sometimes eight or ten a year. I sold well in those shows and it was fun talking to customers, but many were held outdoors, and expensive so when it rained it was a disaster. Putting and taking down the tent was difficult. I stopped doing that this year. The Brooklyn Chamber of Commerce has a new shop with a gallery show in Industry City. Fifteen BWAC artists were featured, which is very nice. Also, I am in a Salon Show at the Williamsburg Art & Historical Center which opens today.

MM: Be honest, out of all of your creations, do you have any particular favorite piece?

SF: “Lady With a Fan After Klimt.” I sold it, but regret selling it. “The Path,” a translucent mosaic of a path through birches with strong shadows. “Aerial View of Manhattan” as seen from a plane at sunset, at sunset.

MM: What would you say has been the highlight of your artistic career so far?

SF: I always think the highlight is whatever I just finished. The graphic novels were really fun because I worked with my two best friends (both writers). “Franceso’s Fountain” and “The Mysteries at the Vanished Villa” required several trips to Rome, Venice, and Naples, not as a tourist this time, but with a purpose.

MM: What are your ultimate goals for the future and is there anything else that you would like to mention?

SF: The challenge is always asking myself: what’s the next idea? Right now, I’m trying to come up with another ceramic/mosaic concept. I can’t copy myself as that’s boring.

Throw an axe with your beau or belle for Valentine’s Day!

Brooklyn Star on February 8, 2024

By Aaron Gold | news@queensledger.com

Aaron Gold posing after hitting a bullseye. Photo by Christine Stoddard.

When people make fun of Brooklyn hipsters, one of the go-to things to cite (after craft beers, underground music, and ironic tattoos) would be axe-throwing bars. But there’s a very good, very deep reason why axe-throwing has become such a staple of the scene: It’s really, really fun.

Even the less violent of us can feel a rush of pride and adrenaline as a steel hatchet leaves your hands, rotates end over end, and finds purchase in a wooden target. It’s marksmanship to the level of lumberjack. It’s darts with bladed weapons. It’s a unique experience for anyone who doesn’t have a penchant for chopping firewood or acres of wooded land, but does have a bit of free time.

When approaching Kick Axe Throwing in Gowanus, you’re immediately greeted by a large statue of a bull. Because, why not? Once you get through the people who are taking their pictures beside it (don’t judge, you know you’ll be doing the same when you leave), you’re treated to a vibe that is clubhouse meets escape room. There is a nice lounge area with couches that are actually comfortable, alongside plenty of games like Jenga and beer pong. If you have to wait for your appointment, you will not be left bored, as there is plenty to fuel either your Instagram feeds or your desire for social connection.

The bar is not quite as well stocked as one might hope, but that’s understandable, considering the majority of the establishment’s patrons will be spending their evening chucking hatchets. Still, the beer selection has enough to appeal to both those looking for the classic cheap drinks, as well as those with a thirst for microbrews. A few canned cocktails and wines are also available for those with more discerning palettes, but the options there are limited.

The staff seems to genuinely enjoy working there, as everyone we interacted with was effortlessly charming and sociable. They welcome both newbies and seasoned axe throwers alike, embodying the aura of “Everyone’s here to have fun.” Once you’ve signed your safety waivers, you’re free to hang out at the bar or the aforementioned lounge while awaiting your turn at the lanes, each of which are notated by a different Harry Potter Hogwarts house.

Before you begin throwing, your attendant will walk you through the safety measures, complete with a few rounds of practice throws. Our attendant was very giving with the feedback, providing tons of positive encouragement and helpful tips without hovering. He had to attend to another lane at the same time, but was there with us for seemingly little over half of our stay. After he introduced us to the two people sharing our lane (who were a couple of friendly firefighters, so we knew we probably didn’t stand a chance) he introduced us to the first of our three games.

The entire experience truly felt like high stakes darts, and was a lot more accessible than one might think. For a feel of the way Brooklyn exists now, this was a terrific experience, and serves as a wonderful way to show out-of-towners a treat they are not likely to find outside of the city.

Back in the Day…Feb. 1, 2024 Reader Submission

Brooklyn Star on February 2, 2024

“I was maybe 10 or 11 when I took these photos. I’ve lived all my life in Brooklyn. My parents gave me my (first) camera for my 9th birthday, a 126 Kodak. I would take it all over the place and snap photos, color or BW. I just liked to take photos all over the place. (I still do, and many of my photos have been used in my books and articles). [I am the author of the 3 books on The Lost Synagogues of NYC, and the book Walking Manhattan, a tour guide.] I do recall that I took lots of photos after snowstorms. I’d take photos of snowmen we built, digging out the cars from snow, etc. I hope that modern viewers, such as my own daughters (aged 23 and 21), will see the similarities and differences of the Brooklyn we all know. The car styles are always a hoot. And the reason that I found these was that I was looking for old photos of my parents in that photo box. I found Mom’s driver’s license and a snap of Dad, posing in East Flatbush with his Army uniform all pressed nicely.” -Ellen Levitt

Do you have vintage photos you would like us to share with readers? Send them to news@queensledger.com.

Brooklyn Poetry Feature: Charles Elliott, Ann Bar-Dov & Jacob R. Moses

Brooklyn Star on February 2, 2024

The following appeared in the Feb. 1, 2024 print issue:

In December 2023, the New York Times Magazine announced that it was ending its poetry feature after nine years. We asked Brooklynites to submit their poems to be published here. Due to the popularity of this feature, the series has been extended from its original January 2024 dates. Want to see your words on these pages? Make haste and send your submissions to cstoddard@queensledger.com. This series will run as long as interest in it remains. Submission of poetry does not guarantee publication. All accepted poems will be formatted in a way that best aligns with our newspaper layout.

This week’s featured poets are Charles Elliott, Ann Bar-Dov, and Jacob R. Moses.

“Born at Bushwick Hospital”

By Charles Elliott

January 12, 1946 was the day I was born

at Bushwick Hospital in Brooklyn – a charity

hospital not taking cleanliness seriously.

The place where my mother contracted

an infection then called “lying-in sickness.”

That day, the Brooklyn Eagle reported (on page 4)

that J. Edgar Hoover, even then the long-serving

director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI),

had endorsed 1946 Youth Week, sponsored

by the United Christian Youth Movement to promote

religious education. Hoover warned that churches

were reaching too few young people with their

indoctrinations and “this failure to make contact

with the citizens of tomorrow is producing

a fertile field for future crime. Youths too young

to vote accounted for 21.4 percent of the arrests

last year. Unless a concerted effort is made now

through the media of the church and the home,

these same juvenile delinquents may be

the hardened criminals of tomorrow.”

We lived in a third-floor walkup apartment at 472

Bainbridge Street until I was six years old.

Attended Bedford Central Presbyterian Church,

enjoyed the music of its beautiful big organ

(now wonderfully restored) until we joined

the White Flight to Levittown. My parents,

evangelical Christians, took me to church

in Brooklyn and elsewhere four times

each week for many years. But I was never

more embarrassed before my friends than

when my mother forced me to ride on a float

in the annual Sunday School parade

through our Brooklyn neighborhood. My parents

did everything they could to set me on the right path,

including shoving me into the aisle during

an altar call at a Baptist church, to make sure

I got “properly baptized.”

And yet, in 1971, I was the young journalist

(but no delinquent) who investigated J. Edgar

Hoover for columnist Jack Anderson. Rummaged

in Hoover’s trash at his home in Georgetown

(then no crime), staked out his house, interviewed

his neighbors and drew a scowl of disapproving

recognition from Hoover as he and Clyde Tolson

lunched at the Rib Room of the Mayflower Hotel

up on Connecticut in D.C.

The historic Bushwick Hospital building of my advent

still stands. At 41 Howard Avenue, the structure,

in an Italian Renaissance revival style, now

re-tasked to a purpose that some might suggest

is appropriate to my birthplace, re Hoover’s

remarks. By the time New York State acquired

it in 1968, the failed hospital was gone.

The building born again as the Bushwick

Nursing Home. But after that, according to

an October 29, 2014 news report: “It’s now

a placement center for juvenile delinquents.”

That mission renewed, continues. Now

a Youth Bureaus facility – the Ella McQueen

Reception Center for Boys and Girls.

My proud birthplace.

Charles Elliott’s poetry has appeared most recently in Synkroniciti Magazine and the American Poetry Journal. his work also has been featured in the Paris-based journal Levure littéraire, Chiron Review, Potomac Review, Aethlon, the New York Times, and two anthologies. Elliott reads his poems at https://www.youtube.com/user/beautyseer and administers https://www.facebook.com/The.Poetry.Cabin and a related Twitter account, @ThePoetryCabin. Elliott also has published three history books on Southern California topics and won awards for poetry, journalism, and fine art photography.

“Sheepshead Bay, 1976”

By Ann Bar-Dov

Sheepshead Bay, eight p.m.

Evening fog comes drifting in.

Familiar streets and houses, lost in a cloud…

Hoot of a foghorn, screaming gulls,

dirty green waves slapping at fishing boat hulls,

shouts of the fishermen echo across the water.

Old frame houses facing the bay

slide a little more sideways every day.

Screen doors and shutters creaking in the wind…

Sidewalk’s broken and buckled. Weeds grow in the cracks.

There’s sand in the gutters, and empty six-packs.

Someone’s old Chevy’s rusting by the side of the road.

I’d spend my days knocking ‘round Manhattan,

pushing and being pushed around.

Then I’d take that long train ride back to Sheepshead Bay,

walk around the streets and feel myself calm down.

Sheepshead Bay, eight p.m.

Evening fog comes drifting in.

Familiar streets and houses, lost in a cloud….

Sheepshead Bay, lost in a cloud.

Originally from Brooklyn, Ann Bar-Dov has lived in Israel since 1976 and in the Galilee since 1983. After 38 years spent teaching everything from kindergarten to yoga to Public Health, she has finally retired and can devote real time to writing.

“Sheepshead Bay, 2020”

By Jacob R. Moses

Took the Q train to

Roll-N-Roaster just so I

could get lemonade

Jacob R. Moses is a poet and spoken word artist from Staten Island, NY. Publications featuring his work span 18 countries. He is the author of the full-length poetry book, Grimoire (iiPublishing, 2021). Jacob is a recent graduate from Southern New Hampshire University with an MA in English and Creative Writing.

Black Land Ownership Seeks Support

Brooklyn Star on January 31, 2024

By Melissa Hunter Gurney | news@queensledger.com

Editor’s Note: The following is a write-up that was solicited from a co-founder of the organization, Black Land Ownership, after receiving a press release about a current fundraising initiative:

In a little storefront, on an non-commercial block in Greenpoint, there is a community art space that’s been providing a stage for independent artists and marginalized communities to share their music, their poetry, their thoughts, and their movement since 2015. Most people have no idea that the storefront with the slogans “End Racism” and “Love Thy Neighbor” hanging boldly in the window is also a one-room schoolhouse and the Brooklyn office of Black Land Ownership.

Black Land Ownership owns 37 acres of land in Otsego County, N.Y., fifteen of which is in conservation, where they are building an Educational Eco Hub and Artists’ Residency. They are a grassroots organization put in place to combat the historical, systematic, and institutionalized marginalization experienced by people of African descent. The initiative is a call for change. An investment in the future of Black-owned land and, in turn, Black-owned community and Black-owned capital.

Christopher Banks Carr, one of the founders of Black Land Ownership, grew up in Takoma Park, Washington D.C., a predominantly Black-owned neighborhood that, 35 years later, is being met with change. Similar to many neighborhoods in New York City, the people moving in and buying up homes and businesses are no longer Black. His mom, a long-time lawyer at Howard University, bought her house in 1977 when the neighborhood was inhabited by Black professionals like her. Now, 40 years later, their house is in a different neighborhood than she moved into and she continually thinks about consolidation and change. The sale of a house being a family matter, she started talking to her only son Chris about what this process might look like. Chris’s immediate reaction was, “No, we can’t sell.” He said he needed his mom to understand that owning their home was larger than the two of them them and, although there were personal reasons that made him want to keep it, there were also societal ones.

Around the same time, Chris was traveling across the United States to share his art and learn about other places and other communities. In Nevada, New Mexico, and Arizona, he continually asked himself, “Where are we?”–the “we” being other Black folks. As a musician, he understood that space mattered and that having a safe space to gather with like-minded individuals was important. In Colorado, pulling up tubers on a friend’s farm, he was struck again by the vastness of the land and asked himself, “Who owns all of this?” To his surprise, it was not Black people. He wanted to find solutions—to work together, raise funds, and figure out how to generate revenue sustainably. In 2019, after both he and his partner were diagnosed with rare cancers back-to-back and he was undergoing treatment, everything he wanted to do came into sharp focus. He and Melissa Hunter Gurney, his co-founder, got to work.

It was then that they started researching, fundraising, and learning what it meant to purchase land. Their research, although specific to the Black community, very obviously revealed the need to raise awareness for other marginalized groups—women, trans people, indigenous people, immigrants—with limited resources or capital. Black Land Ownership, as an entity, is inclusive of these groups while simultaneously holding the belief that it is imperative to recognize the outrageous mistreatment and disparity aimed at Black people, not only in the U.S. but worldwide. It is BLO’s belief that people of African descent being landless or displaced is a phenomenon that has occurred anywhere colonialism has happened and is a clear and present human rights issue. Their goal is to make data more attainable and support land projects, educational initiatives and lobbying practices that work to call out the perpetuating narrative that land is a form of wealth relegated to certain groups in this country and beyond.

Their first purchase was a 15-acre conservation plot in Fly Creek, N.Y., completely funded by small grassroots fundraisers. Shortly after that, they purchased 22 acres, clearing out their personal savings. In the past few years, they have purchased 10 acres of wetlands in Mississippi, as well as two micro plots in Arkansas for a community garden and Black Memorial project.

What’s unique about Black Land Ownership is that they are truly community-oriented. They haven’t turned to corporate investors or partners. They have been working on the ground with folks who authentically want to support their specific mission and, although that is a much harder route, it has kept them grounded thus far. That said, they do have continuous fundraising initiatives that they hope will gain visibility and support across the board:

The Black Land Ownership Conservation Fund (BLOCF), which aims to raise funds in order to buy land while simultaneously ensuring that it cannot be developed and that the wildlife (flora and fauna) can exist unencumbered in perpetuity. Essentially, BLOCF works to promote the condition of the land’s natural state rather than the exploitation that very often comes with land use. All funds received to this end go towards the purchase of various properties that are protected wetlands, wildlife refuges, or conservation easements and cannot be turned into residential, industrial, or major commercial endeavors. The BLOCF purposefully shifts focus from having to extract resources out of the land purchased or running a business off the land purchased to ensuring that the land purchased will remain natural and pristine for generations to come.

There are several other initiatives—the Community Garden & Black Memorial Fund that aims to purchase micro plots across all 50 states, the Black Land Ownership Hiking and Camping Club, which aims to bridge rural and urban communities and create a network of safe, wild lands for marginalized groups to explore. There is also the Innovation, Research & Development Hub, which is their largest fundraising project, and aims to purchase 8-12,000 acres of land, which promotes a collaborative model to explore irrigation systems, natural building methods, forest gardening models, and essentially provides space and resources for Black innovators and creators.

Right now, in order to uplift all of these projects, they have started a GoFundMe to purchase a portable saw mill and turn a sector of their Eco Hub into a Woman & Black-Owned Community Mill for their eco hub. A portable saw mill will allow them to mill their own wood utilizing fallen trees from their properties as well as trees that need to come down in order to nourish forest growth. It allows them to build without toxins, to create unique green spaces for visitors and to offer community use for projects that highlight sustainable action and equitable land practices. The cost of wood has skyrocketed, forcing those who don’t fall within certain wealth brackets to build with unnatural, often toxic materials. They hope to uplift education on what it takes to mill wood, share invaluable tools throughout a community and unite in order to create earthen spaces that support the integration of humanity and nature and uplift their artistic and educational pursuits.

You can follow their work at the following:

Website: blacklandownership.com

Instagram: @Blacklandownership

Youtube: www.youtube.com/@blacklandownership

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