Old New York Series

This is my personal series called “The Old New York.” It is in tribute to the real New York all of us real people, once knew.

I went to art school at The School of Visual Arts on 23rd St. 1997-1999, and lived in Bushwick Brooklyn 1999-2001, and sold my art on the street of the Village to glimpse the last bit of real culture in our late great city.

I actually remember an East Village full of life, with an acceptance of life as-is, including freaks, geeks, crackheads and real artists. Hookers and grannies on Harleys were among some of the great individuality that highlighted the diversity and uniqueness of New York City before it fell to rich Yuppies and endless cupcake stands.

Nevertheless, like New York itself, it is defined not by the rich, but by constant re-invention. Artwork in the series will underline its past as well as its future…


“97” – Oil – 2017

Tribute to the late Yaffa Café, 1997. Yaffa was the most magical cafe in all Manhattan, and was closed permanently in 2014, after 32 years. I did this work in effigy of its greatness.

97 Saint Marks, East Village.


“F*** the VCR!” – Oil on Canvas 2017.

Story: I was visiting Manhattan with my wife, Katherine back in 2016, and there was this homeless older guy in the NYC subway on Canal, storming all over smashing VHS tapes into the ground, screaming “Fuck the VCR!” – I did this in effigy of his genius.


“Oh Well Whatever Nevermind” – Graphite On Paper – September 2017

I looked to the Twin Towers everyday when I lived off the J Line in Bushwick Brooklyn. I looked to them everyday as they made everything else “disintegrated, yet part of the scheme.”

This is a very emotional and iconographic piece with more obvious overtones, as it is most about what we’ve all lost since the 90’s to the turn of the millennium.

There are many hidden icons and clues for the viewer to find, as to what this means.

We lost a would be second 60’s in the early 90’s before it was co-opted by the Establishment, along with particular assassinations of influential figures. I lost my mom in 1998. And convenient to the powers that be, we all lost Habeas Corpus to the Patriot Act post 9-11.  Along with much, much more. But oh well, whatever…