It’s not a festival, but a “film challenge that brings communities closer together by inviting filmmakers of all levels to create short narrative or documentary videos of their block using only their block’s residents as cast and crew.”
Tag: Carroll Gardens
In fiscal year 2009, 311 records indicate Brooklyn had 4,042 complaints of bed bugs and 1,729 violations. These numbers place Brooklyn first among all boroughs in number of complaints, with over 50% more complaints than the next closest borough, Manhattan. Dr. Louis Sorkin, a bed bug expert and entomologist at the American Museum of Natural History, thinks the City should offer its residents more education on preventing the spread of these tiny terrors. Here’s the scoop on what to do if you find yourself with these unwanted house guests.
Local musician and native Brooklynite Tavo Carbone talks about doing it yourself.
“WE ARE IN A RECESSION!” screamed the words from my in-box back on Nov. 16, and whether it was official yet or not, the wardrobes of Brooklyn’s 20-somethings were feeling it.
Recently, the door to the new and expanded Beacon’s Closet, a consignment shop now on the corner of Warren Street and Fifth Avenue in Park Slope, opened. Along with a burst of cold air came not a customer but a stink bomb.
There he was standing in front of me giggling, arms outstretched, and totally naked. He was bald and wrinkled, like the dancing old man from those Six Flags commercials, but he was just over a foot tall and, from his mostly toothless smile, drooled a bit. His mom scooped him up and got him dressed.
What do Jasper Johns, Cindy Sherman, Annie Leibovitz and Keith Haring all have in common? Each artist has work up for sale at the 4th Annual Brooklyn Academy of Music (BAM to us locals) Silent Auction.
On a recent chilly night, I was bundled up and on my way to Boerum Hill to have dinner at a friend’s apartment. As I walked down Washington Avenue the B45 bus pulled up next to me, and I hesitated. “Which would be faster, the train or the bus?” I thought. Before I could make a decision, the bus doors had shuttered. Luckily, the light at Atlantic and Washington was still red and I approached the bus and knocked on the door. The driver, a middle-aged African-American man, refused to open the door, gesturing to the next stop, three street crossings away, even though his bus was still idling perfectly in front of a designated stop. It was 15 degrees outside and I’ll admit it, I felt like the driver was sticking it to me for being white.