Bash Compactor: All Knocked Up With No Place To Go

At Front Street Galleries in Dumbo last week, Article—a group of project-based design misfits—threw a show inspired by the ever-filthy electro rap of Ninjasonik. Over 50 artists contributed one of a kind, artistic album cover interpretations for the band’s single “Somebody Gonna Get Pregnant.”

Problems: It was hot as hell and there were no free beers. The first dilemma was caused by a power outage in the building (and, it turned out, in a lot of the neighborhood). We had lights in the gallery, but no AC—it was a sticky mess. And as for the second problem, well, a party like this almost demands BYOB knowledge. It was a filthy, do-what-youwish atmosphere, with everyone swigging from various bags and bottles.

In a crowd of tattooed Black Label bike gang members and flashy hip-hoppers, Jerry “Satan” Williams was an anomalous standout, over 6-feet tall and heavyset, with a bright-green polo clashing with his fire engine-red hair. We went on a quest for the Grolsch beers that began materializing in the crowd, sensing an impending gratis. We went down to the street, where someone named Carmine thanked Jerry for letting him stay at his apartment for $5 a week, 20 years ago. Entering a few other gallery openings on Front Street, Jerry only found a complimentary vegetable platter. We heard the bodega downstairs had given all of the beers away—the coolers were powered out and the old-school Grolsch closures were bursting in the heat.

Williams, who played Satan in the films The Reverend of Fort Greene and Chickenpox, had to head back to our original spot to meet those films’ creator, Andrew H. Shirley.

We found Shirley near his contribution to the show: a sexually graphic cut-andpaste collage.

Late last year, Nick Chatfield-Taylor, the show’s organizer, handed out blank Ninjasonik singles to Shirley and about 50 other artists he knew. Thursday’s show was what was given back: a filthy mess, sexually rampant, thoughtful and thoughtless at once.

Chris Weingarten’s contribution was speculated to be semen in a pickle jar, but Chatfield-Taylor revealed it to be just a blended and jarred copy of the Ninjasonik single.

Darryl Nau’s piece pretty much amounted to an abortion in a bag. “It’s inspired by all those fun nights when the condom breaks and it ends up costing money,” he said of his art.

Other eye-catchers included J. Rattlesnake’s sinister black metal approach, thorny white type on a black field; Sidewalk shadow-tracer Ellis Gallagher’s angry MySpace with a photo of his work; Swoon’s contribution on cardboard, eschewing the collaborative theme for her own seemingly unrelated medium; and birthday boy Todd Seelie’s complex crowd photograph. Out of nowhere (or rather from the hidden stores of Seelie’s girlfriend), party hats and glitter materialized. The song that we sing was sung, and the aforementioned stickiness was accentuated by the glitter that would coat Seelie’s entire body all night. He’d purportedly had shitty birthdays always. “This is the best one so far,” he said.