The New York Myth                                                                                                                                                      Page 2

the tragedy was poignantly intimate. Even as the New York Myth was gaining a foothold the essence of what created it was dying.

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By the early 60s The Club had disbanded, Pop art and rock music swept in with a garish vigor that consumed the scene. Bohemians were out, hipsters were in and Happenings were happening. Master of Fine Arts programs began to flourish in Universities and the New York Myth had matured and was solidly established throughout the land.  The mantra for many artists, but especially the newly minted MFA graduates, was to make it in New York.  If you happened to actually be a city resident the Myth seemed ridiculous because you knew the real score. This gave you license to plaster a smug bemused expression on your face at all these hicks coming to town looking to lap up some fame and maybe even some culture. The irony is how many city residents were once new arrivals themselves (and often within a very short time span).

Among some the Bohemian remnants remain: A friend and excellent artist was recently berated by a semi-acquaintance for not being dedicated enough to making art.  What was required to prove the devotion?  To live in a derelict, rat-infested building, leave her husband and only focus on her art!

What did we know; us hicks?  One thing  that New York was the biggest scariest place that most of us had ever seen.  And what wasn’t there to scare the living shit out of anyone from the outside?  At the head of that long list was that item about the sheer impossibility of how live there. During the infancy of the Myth, it at least seemed to be an easier proposition.  Once upon a time you could get by with a cold-water flat, one or two shit jobs to make expenses and still have plenty of time to make art.  But gradually the commercial aspects of the new Mecca began to overwhelm. The notion of living in New York, particularly Manhattan, seemed more and more unfeasible for outsiders.

That mantra of the Myth, Make it in New York, once meant developing your art in an intimate community through a free and engaging exchange of ideas.  This was a core belief for serious artists and it was a large part of what drew me here. But the impetus shifted over the years so that becoming rich and famous through your art took on a greater appeal. By the mid 80s when I hit town this version of the Myth was a fait accompli and it seemed I got to New York about 35 years too late.

Myths are beacons from the past that influence current actions and the golden light of the New York Myth continues to draw creative

types to its light like moths.  But what does that beacon represent today  enlightenment or a bug zapper?

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I lived in Williamsburg in Brooklyn for a few years after leaving Manhattan  on North 9th Street just off Bedford Avenue. At that time this very ethnic area was already evolving into the artists’ community that 8th Street, Soho and the East Village once represented. In many ways the neighborhood has stubbornly consistent  many of the same Polish meat markets, bodegas, pizza joints and other places remain. The area also retains a beat up and particularly Eastern European quality to it despite some signs of forced gentrification. What you don’t see is how expensive it’s become to live there.  Each year more artists are forced to either move further away or to suck up the high cost of living to remain in closer.

New York will most likely remain the art capital of the world for some time. But this is not indefinitely guaranteed or at the very least the nature of what this means could change significantly. As the city continues to become more and more expensive a tipping point may appear in which artists considering New York realize that where they are - Minneapolis, Austin, San Francisco, Denver, Seattle, Charlotte, Atlanta or Albuquerque - might be a whole lot better after all. At risk for New York is the depletion of its creative and intellectual capital as innovators find more accommodating communities elsewhere.  And what would remain of New York’s appeal? It may be reduced to simply a market for art in which a corresponding art would prevail in the form of commoditized, product-oriented objects.  This already appears to be a prevailing trend in many galleries who are likewise squeezed by the economic pressures.

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Myths fade slowly and the changes are measured in a collection of impalpable small shifts as occurs with global warming.   Since my arrival in New York commercial success has mostly eluded me. But I got what I really came for, what the Myth promised me  an immersion in a community of dedicated artists and the sharing of ideas. I didn’t find 8th street, the Waldorf Cafeteria or the Club.  But I found a piece of the same thing through informal weekly discussions of art and ideas with like minded artists every Friday afternoon at Café Dante. My painting improved as a result and I matured as an artist.  Could I have found this elsewhere?  Very likely, but New York still had the particular power, momentum and population to make for a richer experience. My fear now is that what I found and enjoyed so much is an endangered experience facing potential extinction.  I’d like to think I’m wrong.