Last Saturday Greenpoint's warehouse district was lit the heck up by the Nuit Blanche light festival, which Jimmy and I decided was definitely worth leaving the house for. We were right! My favorite color is neon anything, as you know, and it was on display mightily. This festival had everything: swing sets, music, blacklights, dumplings, projections, stuff, and replicants crashing through department store displays to their deaths. It was very exciting.
My camera here is attempting--only partially successfully--to capture a projection of figures climbing up the building.
When is this deadbeat neon hobo going to get off this bench, get a job, and quick sucking off the government teat?
Which one of these people is a replicant? A sinister and troubling question that gets at the heart of the dividing line between man and soulless machine. (Btw, none of these people are replicants.)
Men in white play dreamy Bon Iver-ish music in this spectacular candle-lit room, which appears to have been modeled after my ex-boyfriend Lestat's kitchen.
A delightful bit of neon sludge and powder inside this empty truck provides everyone the opportunity to treat it like a Facebook wall. Oh look, here's a bench...
The most magical bench in all the land. Whatever dost grace the inner chamber of thine spectral bench?
Bit of a surprise, this one. It is just a dude lying down listening to his iPod.
Adorable AND sinister!
The coolest exhibit was one you could see from blocks away: a blinking, wandering eyeball projected onto the water tower. Here's a video:
We came across this alien space egg hanging on a fence. I'm pretty sure it means no harm.
And we end with a fun little psychedelic bicycle projection and Tron Elvis leaving the building.
