Artland

East Williamsburg's Living Room Saloon

by Mark Kirby

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It was the middle of last summer, and that beat down by the heat laziness had set in. You know what it’s like; you walk through thick, dirt soup air, to a cool, air-conditioned oasis for a frosty beverage. And when you get there, you’re bombarded with television — sports almost always, or old shows from the seventies, with closed captioning. You’re assaulted by a CD jukebox with punk rock songs you’ve heard a million times, and stuff like Limp Dingus — Limp Bizkit, I mean — Elvis Presley’s Christmas album, LL Cool J’s Greatest Hits, and whatever’s currently fashionable, like Duran Duran or Jay Z’s newest thug life opus. The more things change, the more they stay the same, and, after the initial rush of the new, it’s mostly the same ol’ same ol'.

And then you hear about a new bar right around the corner called Artland. "You mean I don’t have to go to Black Betty or over to Bedford?" That’s right, they tell you, and it’s been there for about two months. "What? That long? I guess I gotta get out more, huh?" And when you get there, it’s not just a bar, it’s a community center, offering activities that work for both bystanders and participants. It’s a home away from home for misfits, artists, and misfit-artists. Space cadet musicians, who are unbelievably talented, but spinning in their own orbits? They come there, too. Latino cops, bagel delivery truck drivers, marginal street hustlers, old school graffiti artists, new school academic photographers and painters, moms, dads, and nice that friendly crack head that politely hustles and never bothers or rips off? In the time I’ve been there, that potpourri of people that is Brooklyn comes through the stained glass doors of Artland.

But let’s go back to the beginning

For those who are too old, too cranky, not impressed with trendiness, or just plain irascible, finding a local bar that’s your place can be hard. Especially if you don’t fit into the demographic of many of the bars in Williamsburg: Age 22 - 30, bohemian (real or imagined), white (or being able to blend in), pursuant of whatever is touted as the hip new style, i.e., commercial rap, techno, metal. And it’s doubly hard if you don’t fit into one of the ethnic or racial demographics, i.e., Polish, Russian, Italian, or Latin. These longtime resident communities have their own hangouts.

So when you find a place that, say, welcomes people who are over thirty, too broke and too hard working to be bohemian, not white, like to talk as well as hear music without yelling, want to hear hip and not-so-hip music — jazz, old soul, late sixty’s Brazilian psychedelic rock — and dress in a not-so-hip way; man, finding a hangout like that, is like finding a secret clubhouse, where you can be a member and, oddly enough, you want to be a member.

Now imagine you’ve found this place and it’s right around the corner from you. You’ve found it at a time when you were bored with or alienated from the other bars and hangouts in your social world. You go in and find it’s homey, eclectic, and the decor mercifully lacks that calculated déclassé pseudo elegance that’s all too common in new bars and restaurants around here (it’s not "Williamsburg is the new Soho" time, just yet). This place is dark, with the glow of candles filling the room with a light at once warm and cozy, yet mysterious. Two old bathtubs are filled with ice and beer. The bar itself is curved like a snake, with tarot cards, rune stones, and other divination cards and objects polyurethaned onto the surface. Retro furniture from the last several decades. Art on the walls that ranges from the good, the bad, and the ugly, to the sublime and ridiculous. And most important, great music, music not from a prescribed source like a fuckin’ jukebox, but from the vast array of music from the collections of DJs and fanatical employees.

This is my experience of Artland Bar. That was what it was like when I first ventured through its doors. And it got even better. The second time I went there, I met the owner, Jede. Or should I say, was reintroduced. "What’s your name? Kirby? I remember you. You served me at the bar at that East Village pizza place. You were also at La Belle Epoch on Tango Night. I love the Tango"

Once we had that connection and I realized I had an in with this beautiful woman, I liked the place a lot more. And what’s not to like? The only thing is the lack of draft beer. Other than that, it fits the need for a mellow place to drink and chill, where people don’t look at you like you’re shit because you’re not in the latest expensive fashions. I won’t name any names but you may know the ultra trendy, Bedford area, used-to-be-a-mayonnaise factory that I’m talking about. With a few more visits I became totally comfortable at Artland. One day, after a copious number of margaritas and Pabst beer, a light shone around Jede, and I had the most brilliant of ideas: "Hey Jede, you know, it’d be great if we started going out, and you gave me a bartending job here, too. I’d settle for either one. I don’t want to get greedy."

She laughed, so I assumed she wouldn’t be my next, greatest girlfriend. A few months later, I got a job and a benefits package consisting of free drinks on my days off. I get to walk to work since it’s five minutes away. And it’s with someone who actually knows me, likes me, and doesn’t want to replace me with a big-breasted blonde. Now that’s living La Vida Kirby.

La Vida Kirby is also, aside from having a good job, being a part of something that is more than just show up, work, get paid and leave. Artland is like a community center. People leave extra keys to their apartments with the management, meet up with others to plot and plan. Artists show work there. As Jede has stated many times, Artland is not a curator, not there to judge whether someone’s work is good or not. The whole point is just to encourage local artists, so they can see the work up and get feedback about it and discussion. And maybe enough validation to keep going. The work changes monthly and alternates female-male, so women artists are encouraged to show. Artland is also a bit like an over-night camp, with activities every day besides the usual – in this case drinking, talking, and listening to music.

Monday at Artland starts like all the other days: a fast and furious cleanup, setup, and the packing of beer bottles into ice-filled bathtubs (nothing keeps beer cold like ice, I don’t care how high tech the refrigerator is). One of the nice things about Artland is the autonomy that it allows the bartenders to set the mood and atmosphere, as long as it works and doesn’t alienate too many customers. So I play CDs and vinyl albums that I consider morning-ish, ease-into-the-day music. It ranges from Duke Ellington, to ‘60's soul, to Latin jazz. It’s the beginning of the workweek for most of our patrons, so sensibilities are delicate. That goes double for me since I’ve already worked two twelve-hour days elsewhere on Saturday and Sunday, and, physically and psychically, it’s still quite early. Lately Monday’s have been Raw Bar nights, with Artland family member John (purveyor of the bar’s DJ equipment and perpetual good vibes), myself and any other seafood lovers, chipping in for clams, oysters, and shrimp from a great seafood place over on Bushwick Ave. If not sea food, i.e., if John isn’t around at dinner time to drive over there, it’s take out from Chicken Emporium (great ribs and Indian food) or one of the many Chinese or Spanish places around. Since many of us are single here at the bar and often eat alone, these impromptu communal meals are nice. And you have to eat if you’re gonna drink.

Monday is also one of several DJ nights. The DJ lineup, like the tubs of ice and beer and the bar itself, is in keeping with Artland’s DIY aesthetic. Elixir, a/k/a Ed, is one of the bar's neighborhood regulars. He had wanted to DJ for a long time, so he asked Jede and was given a chance. After a slightly awkward learning phase, he has become very good, and cuts and mixes a blend of all electronic rock that ranges from old school Kraftwork to new stuff like Mouse on Mars. Good ears and good taste are essential to a DJ and Elixir has loads of both. After Elixir’s set, it’s DJ LayLo. She plays a set of what can only be called "Free Form Radio," which is to say anything goes. She plays music that ranges from post-punk (Gang of Four, Joy Division, Neu) to Echo and the Bunny Men to Bikini Kill to newer bands, like Tortoise and Guided by Voices. More than just the music, LayLo brings a posse of pals who drink and party and make an otherwise slow, mellow night, a lively one. As she told me when she first starting spinning, "I have a many friends that I don’t get to see that often, so this is a chance to hang out with them, play records, and drink for free. That’s what I call a party." Indeed.

Tuesday is Open Mic Night. It’s mostly folk singers with guitars, but we have had a local comedy improv group perform. The host is Joey D. another member of the Artland family. Artland has adopted him because he’s so fucking talented as a performer and songwriter, and he’s a nice guy. He plays a few tunes as does Jarvis, one of the bar’s regulars, and an excellent songwriter in his own right. Every week the polished, the raw, the open mic veterans and rookies, and I don’t know who else, shows up. Two weeks in a row a local improv comedy group showed up. Open mic night, like other nights at Artland, is a fertile ground for networking and collaboration (a regular customer who reads my various columns, told me about Wburg.com and other sources for my writing). One Tuesday, a shy Japanese woman named Uko played exquisitely delicate and beautiful songs on the ukulele and sang. The past two or three Tuesdays she’s performed with Joey D. doing human beat box vocal "percussion." She and Joey were slated to perform at her show at Side Walk Café.

Wednesday is Tango Night. The local, and not so local, tango community turns out to dance and take lessons. After the lesson, there’s free, unlimited malanga (free style tango dancing). Jede is the enthusiastic ringleader of this night and plays records from her selection of great Tango music. The vibe and atmosphere at Artland on Wednesdays are truly unique. For almost the whole night the sounds of violins, accordions, and guitars of Astor Piazzola and other Argentinean composers can be heard. Tango music is an acquired taste, to be sure, but so is beer and single malt scotch.

Thursday is jazz night. From nine o’clock on, it’s all jazz all the time. DJ Seth spins jazz. How did he get the gig? He loves the bar, he wanted to spin jazz, old and new, and asked to do it. "We need something to compliment the live jazz." The live jazz is a hot house for a shifting group of musicians, two of whom live a few doors down from the bar, based on a core of players: Jeremy Wilms, on electric bass, Dylan Fusillo, on drums, and Nick Demopoulos on guitar. Others, especially saxophone players, come and go, but you can always depend on some combination based on these players. One highlight a few months ago occurred on a rare Thursday when I was working. The normal jazz trio or quartet was reduced to a duo: Jordan, the trumpet player for the Afro-beat group, Antibalas, and Dylan on drums. Jordan had a bizarre electronic set up for his horn, a microphone going through guitar boxes — fuzz, echo, digital delay, etc. — and into a guitar amp. Dylan played fractured, funky beats, as Jordan revisited early seventies Miles Davis with long, sparse statements. A unique, one of a kind musical experience, one of the impromptu happenings that Artland loves to nurture.

DJs rule on the traditional party nights, Friday and Saturday. Most places, if they have a DJ at all, play the standard party music, usually hip-hop, dancehall reggae, techno, or some combination, thereof. But on Friday Artland has The Twisted Ones. These two guys are like the DJs from an old Free Form station in Washington, D.C. or San Francisco, back in the days before market research, demographically targeted programming. They are similar to DJ LayLo in approach but the content is wider and more awesome. One DJ plays dub/breakbeat electronica, with special treats like Brazilian samba and South American psychedelica, and the other DJ plays an amalgam of 70s funk and soul, 60s psychedelic, and other, more rock oriented, gems. These guys have a following and they pick up new converts all the time. Like me. I’ve had many "Oh-my-god-he’s-playing-this" moments and spent too much at record stores lately because of these guys. Lately they’ve adopted a more is better approach and had various guest DJs. One woman played an old record by the T.S.U. Toronados, an album I’ve been trying to find for years. I freaked and soared with joy when the first seconds boomed through the system and when she told me it had been reissued and where to buy it for a cheap price — well, sex is this good most of the time, too. Imagine a whole bar of people being delighted, surprised, and enlightened like me and you’d have an idea of what it’s like Friday night.

Saturday at Artland is strictly House Music. DJ Siren a/k/a John hits the party groove with tasty old school house, the best of disco, and party funk. I thought I hated house music until John hipped me to the good shit. That’s all it takes to make someone a believer. It’s the nicest vibe at Artland on Saturday — it’s fun, peaceful, and remarkably lacking in that aggressively desperate energy that makes going out to a bar or club so not fun on Saturday nights in the city. Plus, clubs charge so damn much and a full of pretentiousness and posing. Such scenes are the playgrounds for the wealthy, the bored, and the hormonally driven. Artland is free, the scene down to earth, and, with couches and chairs in isolated places, the hormonally driven can hook up with like minded others and make for a truly interesting evening.

On the lord’s day, Sunday, Artland features live acoustic music. This is the province of Jarvis, Joey D, and Roi, an Israeli singer-songwriter. This is in some way the quintessence of Artland. The performances have the feel of sitting around the porch or living room with friends, playing and singing, trying out new and unfinished songs. There are other players as well, but these guys are the regular core. Some call it the song writer’s workshop, but that implies an uptight seriousness that just isn’t part of it. These guys are serious about their music, and one day the world, assuming justice prevails, will hear from them. The atmosphere encourages sharing, and the lack of pressure ensures good performances, like a coffee shop scene but with better sound and booze and beer instead of coffee and tea.

Artland manages to find that balance between variety and familiarity. The tone and program of each night is consistent so everyone knows what’s happening. And yet there is fluidity and, as Jede always says, it’s a work in progress. It’s a work that is as much about what the neighborhood brings to the bar as what the bar brings to the neighborhood.

Mark Kirby is a journalist, screenwriter, small time actor, and big time drummer living in Williamsburg.

the Williamsburg quarterly = arts + context + listings (Williamsburg, Brooklyn)