| Edification value |  |
|---|---|
| Entertainment value |  |
| Should you go? | |
| Time spent | 39 minutes |
| Best thing I saw or learned | Glendora Buell has had a public access TV show, A Chat with Glendora, since 1972. At over 44 years and 11,600 (!) episodes, it’s the longest running public access show. She’s 88 years old. God bless! |
BRIC House is a flexible arts space including a theater, ballroom, and an exhibition space in an artsy part of downtown Brooklyn (right next door to the Brooklyn Academy of Music’s Harvey Theater).
It took a while to figure out what “BRIC” stands for: Brooklyn Information & Culture. Or, “stood for.” According to their website while that’s where the name comes from, officially it doesn’t stand for anything right now.
Anyway, the organization has been around since 1979 under various names–it started out as the Fund for the Borough of Brooklyn, and so in some alternate universe I suppose I visited FFoBB House instead of BRIC House. In this universe, it only moved into its new space, a shiny refit of the old Strand Theater, in 2013.
BRIC organizes a major free festival every year (Celebrate Brooklyn!) and its BRIC House home base gives it space to put on a whole array of arts programming.
The “museum” space is an airy, high-ceilinged open space that goes down well below street grade but thanks to a large swath of half-height windows is flooded with light. There’s an informal stair-seat space that BRIC uses for talks and lectures, with the gallery space behind it.
The current show, Public Access/Open Networks celebrates public access TV as the original user-generated video form. It includes a piece by Nam June Paik, so you know its arts bona fides are in place, but looks at a variety of public access shows, extending to the modern day with Youtube videos as the new “public access.”
In addition to Glendora Buell above, one standout was a waffle restaurant that doubled as the studio of a talk show–walk in for waffles and you might be a guest, or possibly even the host. And there’s a taste of how different subcultures and interest groups have used public access to gain a voice, though I might’ve liked a bit more focus on that. Also, no Robin Byrd? No Wayne’s World? I question the curatorial judgment.
Almost better than the content was the array of antique tube monitors they scrounged up to show the video on. It’s been long enough that these bulky, cubical relics are starting to look alien to me. TV was so much better on one of these fuzzy old behemoths, said no one ever.
BRIC House also houses a cafe, so if you’re in need of an upscale coffee, it’s yet another reason to stop in. As with a lot of places, whether you should stop in or not is going to depend on what’s on exhibition. I’m skeptical it’s worth a special trip. It’s more like if you’re going to BRIC for an event, check out the gallery while you’re there. Or if you’re seeing a show nearby, or taking a glassblowing course (Brooklyn Glass is right upstairs), visit for a coffee and some art.
For Reference:
| Address | 647 Fulton Street, Brooklyn |
|---|---|
| Website | bricartsmedia.org |
| Cost | Free |
| Other Relevant Links |
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The African Burial Ground is a small monument overshadowed by the government buildings around Foley Square. As they were digging for a new federal building in 1991 they discovered bodies, and from there re-discovered a forgotten cemetery used by the city’s African American population in the late 1600s and early 1700s.
Today a corner of what used to be the cemetery is a small green open space with a black granite monument, standing in for a headstone. There aren’t any markers, of course, and if it weren’t for the signs and a series of low humps of earth, you’d probably just think it was a pocket park. It’s not the whole extent of the cemetery, as this city is sufficiently about commerce and building that it won’t let the past fully forestall progress, even when that past includes the earthly remains of slaves.
The African Burial Ground is definitely not entertaining. But it is important. Every New Yorker and everyone with an interest in the city and its history should go and pay their respects.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from the Museum of Chinese in America (MOCA for short). I knew the space would be great — it was designed by Maya Lin. But having recently been a bit disappointed by 
MOCA is indeed a beautifully designed museum. The space is consists of a series of rooms that surround a central open atrium, which extends from a skylight down to the classrooms, office, and restrooms on the basement level. Scarred bare brick underscores the age of the building, and its more industrial heritage. And windows carved into the rooms around the atrium ensure there’s always some natural light filtering in. The windows aren’t just openings, though: videos projected onto them make them serve a very clever dual purpose — the videos are also visible, of course, from the atrium side of the glass as well.
The educational program succeeds as well as the building does. MOCA does exactly what you’d expect: tells the story of the Chinese immigrant experience in the United States. The show is largely chronological, starting with Chinese immigration to build the railroads and the subsequent racist reactions to Chinese immigration in the 19th century, which led to laws that essentially prevented most Chinese immigration, as well as constraining the kinds of work Chinese immigrants could do.
In addition to the main space, there are two areas for temporary exhibitions. They currently feature an awesome look at Chinese food in the US, featuring about 33 chefs. Wall projections show video interviews where they speak about their lives and work and their take on “authenticity.” The museum set up one room like a banquet, with place settings for each chef that includes a short bio. This is a missed opportunity in our photogenic food-obsessed instagram age: there should be pictures of each chef’s signature dish at their setting. Still it’s a fun show, including a collection of personally meaningful objects: cleavers, cutting boards, menus, and such. Martin Yan’s wok is there, and Danny Bowien’s favorite spoon.
El Museo del Barrio is currently the northernmost of the “Museum Mile” museums, occupying a stately building on Fifth Avenue, just across 104th Street from the Museum of the City of New York. According to its website, it started in the early 1970s as a cultural center focused on Puerto Rico. It has since expanded its focus to cover all Latin American and Caribbean art and artists. After bouncing around East Harlem a bit it found its current home in the Heckscher Building in 1977.
The main show when I visited was of video art by Beatriz Santiago Muñoz, as well as selections she chose from the museum’s permanent collection. I run hot and cold with video art. On the one hand, two of the best, most memorable works of art I’ve seen in the past two years were video pieces. On the other hand, I am bored to tears with the vast majority of it. Muñoz’s work, largely non-narrative, did little for me. I lacked the eye or knowledge to understand how her selections from the permanent collection clicked with what she’s trying to do.
The other show featured recent acquisitions, definitely a common and valid theme for a museum, although given the small space available, I didn’t find it very edifying as far as key current trends in Latin or Caribbean art. I liked some of the pieces, but I also thought much of the work on view wasn’t especially “Latin.”
Without a doubt the Onassis Center was good for my vocabulary (which is very good to begin with). I picked up six new-to-me words, at least five of which I am sure I will find opportunities to use in the near future.
Halls of fame today are two-a-penny. Everyone and everything from minor league lacrosse to rock n roll has a hall of fame. But it wasn’t always that way. There had to be, at some point, a first one.
The Czech Center’s museum space is small but effective, and it comes associated with three things that no cultural institution I’ve seen thus far can match:
The Leslie-Lohman Museum occupies the newest museum space in the city, having moved into spiffy new digs in SoHo in just the last two weeks. 
The new space for the museum is mostly terrific. You enter into a fairly narrow area where two greeters welcome you and point out what’s on. There are two gallery spaces, a smaller one to the left as you walk in , and a larger one to the right and back. There’s also a kitchen space as well. I am torn between thinking it’s charming that there’s a kitchen right sort of in the open, and thinking their architect really should’ve found a way to separate that from the public space.
The inaugural show is sort of a hodge-podge. I get that survey shows do that, and I would be disappointed if they’d segregated the gay art over here, the lesbian art over there, etc. Sorting by chronology or medium can oversimplify, too. But I would’ve appreciated some effort to put a lens on the collection. Love versus sex. Ideals of beauty. Something.
Should you go? It depends on how you feel about diversity and penises. And maybe, even if you are squeamish about either of those two things, you should consider going anyway. It might be good for you.
The Schomburg Center is the New York Public Library’s research branch focused on the African American experience. It’s a complex of three buildings in Harlem, hosting a ton of talks, events, and exhibitions. Much of the Schomburg Center is currently undergoing a thorough renovation, so I couldn’t visit anything beyond the exhibition space.
The current show at the Schomburg Center is on the Black Power movement of the late 60s and 70s. (2016 marked its fiftieth anniversary) Well chosen quotes highlighted the establishment reaction to the Black Power movement, actual newspapers, magazines, flyers, photographs, pins and other key documents made an exhibit that involved a great deal of reading much more immediate and interesting. Music from the era helped convey the emotion of the time. And some well chosen videos on a couple of screens added variety.
The show covers a large amount of ground, reflecting on the political and 
organizational tactics of the Black Power leadership, as well as on the movement’s impact on fashion, the arts, and popular culture. I confess I always wondered about the berets that were such a signature part of the Black Power look. The show suggests they came from the influence of Che Guevara and Fidel Castro.
The Schomburg’s exhibition space itself is beautiful, light and airy, with big windows. It’s not large, but it was the right size for the show it contained.