You could have your Honda Ruckus Honda Scooter custom made just for you. The Ruk Studio NYC team will put their craftmanship to your service and customize Honda Ruckus that are usually available to the public looking like this:
And make it look like this:
With a GY6 engine (1 gal =149 mi) and custom made tanks that will last twice the distance! Tijuan Aikens wants to make this little babies customized and sold on the same spot right here in NYC! For starters, 6 models will be built, 2 of them will be customized by artist Eli Rivers and presented during the American television series BLACK INK CREW.
Visit their website and help RUK STUDIOS NYC build your dreambike! This obviously already has become a trend, so next summer, if you want a custom one built and sold in NYC, they can be yours for prices going from 800 to 1400$ US! RUK STUDIOS NYC needs your help to start rollin’ so go have a look at their gofundme pagefor a nice kick off start!
Punk, disco, hip hop, the blackout, Son of Sam, Tony Manero, CBGB, Studio 54, Max’s Kansas City, Show World, Paradise Garage, cocaine, polyester and leather—1977 in New York City was exhilarating, a nightmare, fun, dangerous and never boring. It was the year I arrived in downtown Manhattan with a beautiful woman, no money and a rock and roll band. I hit the streets running and never looked back…unless it was to watch my back.
I was living in the decaying Hotel Earle in the West Village when NYC went black. The power failure of July 13, 1977 knocked the city to its knees. I was sitting on the window sill of my room keeping cool or as cool as one could keep during a sweltering summer night in the city. I was drinking a nice cold beer and listening to the music of the streets when at around 9:30 p.m. everything suddenly went completely dark…and I mean dark, dark as Aleister Crowley’s asshole. It was the strangest fucking thing you could imagine. One moment the city was there, then next it was gone. The only illumination came from automobile headlights lacerating the night like ghostly Ginsu knives. My girlfriend and I clutched hands and felt our way down the stairs and out onto the sidewalk. We walked to Bleecker street in spooky darkness. We weren’t alone. The avenues were teeming with the dazed and confused. Not that unusual for the Village, but the confusion was different. Was the world coming to an end?
By midnight the streets where mobbed with people who had figured out that civilization wasn’t ending, it was on vacation. There was a festive vibe in the air. It was like Mardi Gras for the blind. The bars and pubs that stayed open were candlelit and booze was flowing for free. Refrigerators weren’t working and there was no way to keep perishables from spoiling so instead of facing the prospect of throwing food away some joints were feeding people for free. A few cabbies got into the spirit of things and maneuvered their taxis in such a way as to shine their headlights into the cafes providing diners with surreal mood lighting. It was a prison break theme park. And this wild night was bringing out the best in New Yorkers. But it didn’t last. As the blackout continued through the next day and night, things started to change. The novelty of the crisis wore off and it got ugly. What had started out as a party turned into looting and violence. An unexpected payday for the poor and desperate.
The blackout put the whole gamut of what makes New York marvelous and miserable on display: the “I got your back, brother” slamming into the “fuck you!”
These were times when the city was an unseemly beast, a scabrous, moulting fat rat that was exciting to look at but terrifying. Part of the excitement came from the ever-present sense that things could go haywire at any minute. I lived intensely in the moment, acutely aware of everything around me, jacked up in a state of heightened consciousness that was both Zen and manic. Being in the here and now of New York City in 1977 wasn’t a hippie thing, it was survival. And when I got inside the safety zone of Max’s or CBGB, among my tribe, I was ready to get fucked up, to get high, to dance and celebrate.
In the city of night, we went to bed at dawn and rose at dusk. We were vampirebefore vampires became hip.
In the 1970’s, while American hippies were busy inking themselves with peace signs and psychedelic rainbows,Danzig Baldayev, a guard at St. Petersburg’s notorious Kresty Prison, began documenting the far less Woodstockian body art of Russia’s most infamous criminals.
For 33 years, Baldayev used his exclusive access to and rapport with the prisoners to hand-illustrate and capture in artful photographs more than 3,600 inmate tattoos — as admirable a feat artistically as it was sociologically.
In 2003, when he was in his late 70’s, Baldayev began releasing his magnificent archive as a series of books revealing a rich and eerie intersection of art and violence.
Russian Criminal Tattoo Encyclopaedia Volumes I, IIandIII offer not only a visceral record of this intersection, but also Baldayev’s aambitious effort to, through text and illustrations, parse the meaning of these tattoos and place them in the context of this fiercely self-contained subculture. (Or, as it were, institution-contained as well.)
Perhaps even more striking than the body art itself is how Baldayev was able to talk some of Russia’s most dangerous convicts into posing for such intimate and often vulnerable portraits, an intimacy also seen in the work of Canadian photographerDonald Weber:
For a related glimpse of this darkly enigmatic world, the excellent Oscar-nominated 2007 filmEastern Promisesabout the Russian mob in London, starring Naomi Watts and Viggo Mortensen, offers an intriguing look at tattoos as storytelling, a narrative through which prisoners told their life stories and conveyed their credos.
Each of the volumes is an absolute masterpiece and a fascinating slice of subcultural anthropology. It’s the kind of thing that adds instant conversation potential to any home library or coffee table, and guaranteed you’re-cooler-than-my-other-friends gifting recognition.
The site of a stunning 1885-era Parisian municipal bathhouse, HOME to the previous Les Bains Douches Nightclub, is now set to be revamped into a Luxury Boutique Hotel. Earlier this year, a group of 50 Art practitioners filled it up with their own art, creating their very own pop up art gallery from it.
Built as a municipal bathhouse in the late 19th century, Les Bains-Douches would eventually become one of the hottest Night Clubs in Paris known simply as Les Bains, a destination for the likes of Kate Moss, Mick Jagger, Johnny Depp and even Andy Warhol. Due to some faulty construction in 2010 the building was declared a safety hazard and is now slated for complete RENOVATION in just a few days to pave way for La Société des Bains, a new space that will open in 2014. In the meantime, owner Jean-Pierre Marois turned over the building to 50 street artists commissioned by Magda Danysz Gallery who have been working since January to turn the decaying building into an endless canvas of amazing Artwork.
Dark alleys were the first to be marked with Zïlon’s poetic signature. Dubbed « The Backstreet Cocteau » (ref to French poet, filmmaker, artistJean Cocteau), he was one of Montreal’s key figures during the 80’s punk and underground movement. I decided to display here only his work in Black and White… But let’s start with a few drawings/paintings by Jean Cocteau…
Images of ZÏLON at theMontréal Mural Festival ( Landmark ) of / Mural an abandoned building (which one day will be destroyed to make place for one of those beautiful but sterile condos) / Photos: ZÏLON , G.A. De Homa and Stephanie Allaire ”The building is located at the corner of St-Dominique & Marie – Anne street, Montreal. It was all done using spray paint in 2 jours with the assistance of my Lift technician (Spirit in the Sky) Daniel Duhamel. Thanks to all for your cheers and praise!! It most definitely shows I am very well ALIVE!!! (57 going 58 and still alive and kicking!!) . Cheers et to all the envious well TUFF LUCK MOTHERFUCKERS !!! .” Z xx
The two books go well together, giving a representative look at the intersection of music, art, scene-making, fashion, hustling, and hanging out that made the early New York City punk scene so indelible.
Vintage Photos of New York City’s 1970s Punk Playground
Two notable recent books fromGlitterati Incorporated take readers deep into New York City’s 1970s punk underground.Playground: Growing Up In the New York Underground by Paul Zone, with Jake Austin (of Roctober fame!), features photos and firsthand accounts from a foot soldier in the rock and roll wars waged in the city’s now infamous clubs, including Max’s Kansas City and CBGB. White Trash Uncut, meanwhile, comes out of Andy Warhol’s factory scene and, as you might expect, takes an artier look at the New York scene.
Given that my tastes tend more towards the Ramones/Dead Boys/Dictators and less Warhol/Waters, Playground hits a real sweet spot. Zone’s photos pull back the curtain on that time and place in a way few other books on the ’70s NYC scene have done. Being in a band at the time (The Fast), Zone was in the thick of it from the beginning. Sure, you get plenty of (mediocre) performance photos. But that isn’t why you’re here. Where Playground shines is in its casual photos of friends—famous and not—behind-the-scenes, after hours and off guard, almost 240 pages of them. It also brings Legs McNeil and Gillian McCain’s awesome oral history of the early New York punk scene,Please Kill Me, to life. It’s a perfect companion.
With the recent passing of Tommy Erdelyi/Ramone, Playground is particularly timely. It’s an exciting visual romp through a unique period in the history of rock and roll. Looking through the photos, it’s hard not to notice how many of the people featured have died, many way before their prime: drugs (too many to list), AIDS (which also took Zone’s brother, Miki), cancer (three of the original Ramones) and weird car crashes (Stiv Bators). How the hell are all the Stones still alive and the Ramones all dead? Here are some samples from that book:
Crayola at Max’s. (1977)
Originally published in 1977, White Trash Uncut, by Andy Warhol Factory devotee and one time Interview staff photographer Christopher Makos, quickly went out of print and became something of a collector’s item. Finally reprinted, the book consists of a mix of artsier photos—close-ups of body parts and portraits of players in the art and music scenes, focusing on that point of intersection between the two in venues like Max’s Kansas City. It leans heavy on photos of the well-known, if not outright famous: Richard Hell, Andy Warhol, Mick Jagger, the Dead Boys, Debbie Harry, Grace Jones, David Bowie, Divine, Man Ray, John Waters, Marilyn Chambers and plenty other luminaries of that era. The reprint includes 25 photos not included in the original book. Here’s a sampling:
CBGBS BLITZKRIEG BOP FEAT. RAMONES , DEBBY HARRY & DEAD BOYS
LONDON SCENE 1978
The Way They Were
Old Punk documentary from Granada TV on Channel 4. Features (in order):-Sex Pistols, Elvis Costello, Buzzcocks, John Cooper Clarke, Iggy Pop, Wreckless Eric, Ian Dury, Penetration, Blondie, Fall, Jam, Jordan, Devo, Tom Robinson Band, Johnny Thunder, Elvis Costello, XTC, Jonathan Richman, Nick Lowe, Siouxie & the Banshees, Cherry Vanilla & Magazine….. The tape fails there!I have left the adverts in for historical reference – TSB, Once, Cluster, Coke is it, Roger Daltrey in American Express, Ulay, Swan, Our Price, Gastrils, Cluster & Prestige.All content remains the copyright of the current holders ~ I claim none.
The Punk Rock Movie
A revealing look into the bands comprising the 1978 London punk-rock scene, and a peek back-stage at the lives behind the facade. Includes performances by Sex Pistols, Siouxsie and the Banshees and other concurrent bands.
Most of the bands were filmed at the Roxy club in London, where Don Letts worked as a DJ. Letts filmed the bands very simply with a Super-8 camera, and also filmed on the tour bus and at shows with The Clash and The Slits. The Sex Pistols were filmed at Screen on the Green in London on 3 April 1977, Sid Vicious’s first show with the band.
Dismaland Deemed ”The Bleakiest Amusement Park Ever”
Graffiti artistBanksy has opened what could be the world’s most terrifying, spookiest theme park ever. From today, the abandoned Tropicana outdoor park at Weston-super-mare near Bristol will be transformed into Dismaland, a “bemusement park” with a dark twist on California’s childhood classics. Disneyland, wrapped in a nightmare.
On Thursday, images and video captured inside “Dismaland,” Banksy’s new art exhibition/dystopian amusement park, began making the rounds on social media. They offer a glimpse into a world that’s predictably dark, bizarre and full of satire according to Buzzfeed. Amongst other deceptions, visitors can have the back of their head drawn in a “surprisingly revealing” portrait, or watch the weekly events including live comedy and music from Russian punk activists Pussy Riot.
It was produced under top-secret conditions, with a cover story that Dismaland was the location for a film called “Grey Fox” made by Atlas Productions.
Dismaland is one of the largest outdoor installations for the mysterious Banksy, whose satirical work has gained heritage-listed status around the UK and gained fans like Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.
Despite his fame, Banksy has remained fiercely protective of his identity and committed to outdoor stunts, including one in New York where he sold his pictures at a stall near Central Park for a fraction of what they would cost in a gallery. Dismaland features artists like Damien Hirst, Jenny Holzer, Barry Salzman, Dietrich Wagner amongst many others.
Dismaland runs from Aug. 22 to Sept 27, and its website contains a warning that spray paint, knives and “legal representatives of the Walt Disney Corporation” are strictly prohibited in the park.