“What matters most is how well you walk through the fire”. That’s a well known quote by underground author Charles Bukowsky. Artists need to walk that walk.
Occasionally I get the guts and desire to venture out into the proclaimed Hipster Haven known in Nyc as Williamsburg. It’s entertainment for me since I have been typecast by media as a Boomer so looking at these kids in their hipster garb and attitude is pure theatre. I have to do it every once in awhile to remind myself just how much the art scene has been transformed from the grit and grunge of my 1970’s, 80’s and even 90’s world into this hipster Disneyland of stylized fashion, accessories, gadgets, and desperately craved “Coollness.”
The minute my feet hit the ground on Bedford Avenue, the tsunami of Hipster Nation members and future recruits surrounds me . I’m ok with the youthful attitude, the need to out hip the next person, the playful art look (even if you don’t know the difference between Napthol Crimson and Pyrrole – after all it’s Today’s generation.
And I get that. Being a “Child of the Sixties” – where us artist types mingled and lingered in the dirty nasty rough graffiti infested, and often scary NYC of past times the one that spawned the Patti, Blondie, Lou, Andy, Jean Michel, Keith, Mapplethorpe, Ginsberg, Kerouac, to name a few, in the grit and grunge of NYC that nourished their creative impulses with its raw rough juices makes me question just HOW these New School Hipster Nation followers – many striving for artistic recognition have a chance to show creative individuality while dwelling in this new NYC – the cleaned up, generic, attractive, expensive, brand of banks, CVS, yogurt shops, and condos, lacking the kindling, the gasoline, the match, so necessary to stoke the artists flame and make that walk through the FIRE.