BROOKLYN STREET ART LOVES YOU MORE EVERY DAY
Welcome to BSA Images of the Week. A heatwave is coming, the fog of war is already here, the establishment Dems hate Mamdani and would prefer the disgraced Cuomo for NYC Mayor, Trump hates everyone (including now, Fox), Israel is attacking Iran, the US is attacking Iran, and New York street fashion watchers are expecting to see if women begin wearing socks with dress shoes —or even strappy heels— a trend predicted to take off on summer streets, or fall at the latest.
This week, we mark the passing of Brooklyn-born photographer Marcia Resnick, whose camera cut through the cultural chaos of late 1970s and early 1980s New York punk subculture with clarity, bite, and precision. She wasn’t just in the room—Resnick was part of the scene. Her black-and-whites told the truth, or at least a version of it that compelled you. She caught peacocks like Andy Warhol, Mick Jagger, and Stiv Bators when nightlife was a contact sport and celebrity was going through a re-evaluation. Gritty or mundane, she captured pockets of the city—Mudd Club, CBGB—where the Ramones, Talking Heads, and Bad Brains blew out the walls and made mockery of mainstream, and where cultural conduits like Fab Five Freddy slipped between scenes, wiring punk to hip hop and graffiti before most people knew there was even a circuit.
Resnick had a particular skill: people—posturing poets, punk detonation squads, intellectual misfits—trusted her even when they shouldn’t have. Lydia Lunch, Klaus Nomi, Quentin Crisp, Jean-Michel Basquiat, William Burroughs, Laurie Anderson, Allen Ginsberg, and John Belushi – each showy in their own way and more iconic than the last- were captured. She made them look less like icons and more like complicated mammals with dreams, drugs, and dirty laundry. Her whole visual archive sings like a live wire, and we thank her for it.
Here is our weekly interview with the streets, this week featuring Branded Art, Elena Ohlander, INEPT, Karat, RIPE143, Rita Flores, Tones One, Trek6, and Yalus.
