Rolls Royce Car Wash

Another yellow car one story closer to heaven, on top of the car wash / repair shop at Union Ave. & Meserole St. in Williamsburg.  This junker is a Rolls Royce, which reminds me that the soundtrack to one of my favorite stupid movies, Car Wash, was done by Rose Royce.

Williamsburg Sights

Recent sights from Williamsburg and the Williamsburg Bridge.  Above, the view from the top of the bridge's south walkway.  Note the old-school Navy Yard cranes that echo the rooftop cubes in front.


Above left, I'm so used to this thing on N 7th that I believe it should be landmarked as-is.  Above right, I bet this building at Bedford & N 3rd will never look better than it does here.


Above left, the huge pit behind the Bedford & N 3rd building, that has warped spacetime and swallowed sidewalks.  Above right, a soft tank down on River St. near N 1st that fits right in with the gray day.


Above left, near the entry to the bridge's south walkway, Intel Outside.  Above right, from further up the north walkway of the bridge, a scrawl that proves we've moved past "the medium is the message" to "there is no message, just buzz."  I blame spray paint manufacturers, the Internet, and the idiots who post these pictures (oops) for this sad state of affairs.

And finally, below, up on the middle of the bridge, living proof that taggers operate in the armpit of the world -- a pink world at that.

Welcome to My Neighborhood

If you love your neighborhood, the worst thing you can do is advertise it, because popularity will steamroll its quirks into the ground.  Unless you advertise it like this...

(Photo: Bernd & Hilla Becher)
Welcome to My Neighborhood!

It's got a lot of history.  In the archival photo above -- displayed in the neighborhood museum behind the counter at Cheesy's Cellphone Shoppe -- you can see its genesis as a planned, utopian community, zoned (back-to-front) for work, home and recreation.


One of the first things you'll notice when you arrive is the bird life, especially in the nature sanctuary / landfill just above Main Street.  Not only does the neighborhood support so many pigeons (above left) that guano collection has become a major industry, but the buzzards in the dead trees above the landfill have become a tourist attraction, and Main Street butchers offer scraps, above right, to appease the majestic birds.


My neighborhood takes tourism seriously.  Attractions include the Kids' Wastewater Plant Fun House pictured above left, the Kids' Trapeze Experience above right, and guided tours of local industry such as the Second Life Sorting Facility, below left, and the Gold Country Guano Collection Facility below right -- both free (so long as you pitch in and help out; face masks are provided for the whole family)!



If you feel like shopping, above left, or like taking in some of the public art installed by our vibrant creative community, above right, just leave the kids under the watchful eye of the Scarecrow Tree, below left, which local parents use to keep their kids in line:

"OK, do whatever you want.  Just don't come crying to me when the Scarecrow Tree breaks into your room tonight!"

Or let them play in front of the Fun Spewer, below right.  The fun part is, you never know when it's going to go off!


And after a full day of exciting activities like that, you're going to want fine dining and accommodations.  My neighborhood can deliver on that count too, as you can see below!  (Just don't expect a delivery after dark.)

Map of Karl Fischer City

If you live in or near Williamsburg and feel like your world is turning plastic, it's no illusion -- Karl Fischer buildings are springing up all over.

Seems I deleted my copy of the KFC map; here's the copy at Curbed.

Fixing Karl Fischer 2

Here we cloak the slobbering big brother of Karl Fischer Row (20 Bayard) in a Frank Gehry outfit.

Note below that I've made sure the empty clock-face / eyeball -- the signature element of Karl's design -- still peeks out the hood.



[ Fixing Karl Fischer 1 ]

Fixing Karl Fischer 1

To fix this Karl Fischer monstrosity, lurking like a one eyed pervert at the edge of McCarren Park:

Find the oiliest strain of ivy you can find, plant it on top, and grow a massive, verdant Jheri curl (plus extensions on the side).

Sorry, I know it's not the greatest illustration.  But digital animators in Hollywood have spent billions trying to simulate realistic hair and it still looks phony, so I would be an idiot to waste any more time on this than I already have.

[ Fixing Karl Fischer 2 ]
[ Karl Fischer in The Showerhead ]

Karl Fischer in `The Showerhead`

Every time I walk by architect Karl Fischer's timeless Empty Clockface building on McCarren Park, I think: I know I've seen that look somewhere.  I believe I am getting closer to the source of his inspiration with the picture above.

Having recently watched The Fountainhead, and watched Karl help turn this area into a luxury condo theme park, I'd guess it's only a matter of time before his life story is immortalized on film; let's call it The Showerhead.

The Showerhead will tell the story of the architect "who could not say NO," who brought the soul-deadening plastic of the suburbs to the city, and designed buildings that make you wish The Fountainhead's Gary Cooper would blow them up.

Developers couldn't care less about what the rest of us have to look at, and condo owners live inside the hideous creation, the one place where they don't have to look at it.  It's up to supposedly high-minded architects to save us, and Karl's just not getting the job done.


The fantasy boulevard setting of Karl's Warehouse 11 promo picture, above left (compare it to the less spacious reality, right), betrays its purely suburban origin, designed for a world where people drive everywhere, and where a home is not part of some organic neighborhood rich with diversity and history, but just a garage where residents park the alienated corporate work-unit their soul has become.

The only good looking building Karl's produced is the Ikon, left; they are not done yet, so they still have time to wreck it.

It looks like a slick Swedish ant farm, the perfect setting for another movie or reality TV show -- call it The Glass House -- about the problems of Wall Street worker ants so filthy rich and hollow it hurts, and leaves them wondering if their life of shuffling other people's money from one esoteric financial instrument to another has lost all meaning, so they spend their nights in drug-fueled debauchery, and greet the dawn with their naked bodies stuck to the Ikon glass like suction toys stuck inside a car window.

If only Karl could return to the inspiration for that one.

[ Critical Fountainhead ]