DIY Venues, Gentrification, and Urban Informality in Bushwick/Ridgewood
Background
Recent years have seen the emergence of a vibrant independent music scene in the Bushwick and Ridgewood areas of Brooklyn and Queens, with many popular venues popping up in this area. These have included both DIY venues in warehouses and basements, as well as more formal small bars and clubs. The area has become popular among artists and musicians that had largely been pushed out of Lower Manhattan and Williamsburg due to high rents. At the same time, both of these neighborhoods are experiencing rapid gentrification processes. Bushwick has seen its historically Latinx and African American population displaced by rising costs of living and influx of affluent White residents since the early 2000s. Census data shows a significant decline in Latinx and Black population coupled with a rise in White population for both Bushwick East and West. The area has also gained cultural cachet and trendiness, leading to increased real-estate speculation, aggressive redevelopment, rising rents, and an influx of global tourism (Valli 2021).
Ridgewood, a multiethnic blue-collar neighborhood with a large immigrant population bordering Bushwick, is seeing an influx of capital investment from real-estate interests who are bringing in upscale businesses to the area that are specifically designed to cater to the wave of largely White, middle-class creatives moving into the neighborhood. Said developers are seeking to refashion the neighborhood in the image of Cobble Hill and other wealthy Brooklyn neighborhoods (Moorhead 2021). Ridgewood too is seeing a decline in Latinx population and an increase in White population.
Art and Gentrification
Literature on the relationship between independent music/art scenes and gentrification in New York City has mostly concentrated on previous gentrification processes in neighborhoods such as the East Village, and later the Lower East Side and Williamsburg (Smith 1996, Holt 2013, Zukin 1989). Some has been written on the relationship between the Bushwick music and art scene and gentrification, but empirical research and scholarship on the matter is recent (Valli 2021, Farrow 2020). Less has been written in scholarly publications about neighboring Ridgewood.
The relationship between the arts and gentrification is complex. Some scholarly works have depicted art scenes as working as a vanguard for gentrification. In this view, artists attracted by cheap rents construct art scenes in poorer neighborhoods, which draws attention from a wider public and raises property values, encouraging real estate speculation and financialization of local housing stock (Zukin 1989, Carney 2021, Valli 2021, Holt 2013). At the same time, artists are casualties of these same gentrification processes, constantly pushed out further into the urban periphery (Koust 2016, Valli 2021). Likewise, venues themselves can serve as actors fostering gentrification and becoming corporatized in the process (Holt 2013).
Another question raised is that of the relationship between DIY scenes and the wider communities they move into. While some scenes are conscious of their positions, others are insular and rarely make efforts to engage with the communities they live in (Carney 2021, Farrow 2020). At the same time, there is also often a lack of recognition by artists of their role in gentrification, which leads to de-politicized understandings of the phenomenon (Valli 2021). At the root of this problem lies a contradiction: these scenes often preach progressive inclusive values whilst continuously obfuscating their complicity in the ongoing displacement of communities of color in the areas where they are based (Farrow 2020). Long-time residents of these areas often experience this relationship violently, losing a sense of place attachment, and developing feelings of displacement and exclusion. In many neighborhoods, including Bushwick, this takes on an explicitly racialized dimension (Valli 2021, Carney 2021).
DIY as Urban Informality
Another fertile terrain for scholarly discussion on the DIY scene is the larger question of how these arts and communities can be said to represent a form of urban informality. Roy defines the concept of urban informality as the ‘spatial fix’ that occurs around regulatory gaps, whereby people take initiatives outside the purview of the state (Roy 2005, 2009). The majority of scholarship on this matter is concentrated around the Global South, though some literature has begun to apply the concept to contexts in the Global North, though this is still the subject of much debate (Devlin 2018) For instance, the concept has been applied to community gardens and squatter communities in European contexts (Devlin 2018) as well as things like underground art scenes and street art (Costa and Lopes 2017). A distinction that exists in Northern literature on the matter is between informality as a result of middle class desires (squatting, music scenes, etc) and informality to fulfill the needs of the urban poor (Devlin 2018). It is likely that DIY fits more into the former, given the scene’s relative skew towards a population that is heavily White, college-educated and middle class (Verbuč 2022, Farrow 2020). At the same time, these scenes are largely made up of professional musicians seeking to make a living from their art (Verbuč 2022).
Taking this into account, there are certain aspects of the economy around DIY that can be studied using an urban informality framework. In a sense, DIY is, to use Roy’s words, a ‘spatial fix’ in US cities, where formal performance spaces are limited, heavily regulated, and mostly corporatized and profit driven (Verbuč 2022). In addition, the DIY music scene is characterized by its own distinctive economic practices like barter, gifting economies, and pay-as-you-want donation boxes, that separate it from the formal economy (ibid.).
A History of the Scene
For decades, during the second half of the Twentieth Century, the independent and alternative music scene in New York City was concentrated in Lower Manhattan, particularly the East Village and Lower East Side. Even in the early 2000s, when the Indie scene began to grow, the center of gravity was still Manhattan. By this point, however, musicians and artists were beginning to relocate to the Williamsburg neighborhood of Brooklyn as the result of rising costs of living (Goodman 2017). By the late 2000s, Williamsburg too was beginning to see the effects of gentrification, and artists began to be priced out.
The first crop of spaces in the Bushwick DIY scene first began to pop up in the late 2000s and early 2010s. Rubulad, a long-running Williamsburg DIY art space, relocated first to Clinton Hill and then to Bushwick during this period. Some spaces remained close to the Williamsburg border. Others moved deeper into Buswkick, and some went even further into Ridgewood, Queens. Many of these early venues operated in squatted old buildings and vacant warehouses. These venues were overwhelmingly an informal economy, operating through word of mouth, and funded in cash. Among them were Silent Barn, Market Hotel, and Shea Stadium. Show houses were also a common fixture during this early period. However, of the first generation, only Market Hotel and Rubulad have survived and continue to operate. In most cases, the death knell for these early informal venues was increased criminalization of the scene by the authorities often in the wake of ongoing gentrification.
As a result, venues began to be faced with dealing with the economic cost of formalization or shutting down. Market Hotel was able to formalize successfully after efforts spanning a number of years, while Shea Stadium was forced to close in 2017. Silent Barn experienced two iterations: the first was in a Ridgewood warehouse while the second operated formally in a building close to the Myrtle Avenue J train station. Its final demise was not due to crackdowns but the result of rising rents. Rubulad is still around and continues to operate informally. However, its location keeps regularly changing.
A second crop of venues, both formal and informal, began emerging in the mid-2010s in both Bushwick and Ridgewood. Trans Pecos, owned by the owner of Market Hotel, was established on the space where the original Silent Barn stood. Meanwhile, The Glove, originally a show house, was established as an informal DIY space in 2016, and The Gateway opened in 2015 at a space on Broadway in what was once a Caribbean dance club. Palisades, a semi-formal space close to Market Hotel also opened in this period. These venues have mostly since closed as the result of tensions with the police, noise complaints from nearby luxury buildings, and legal and financial troubles. In the case of The Gateway, this happened despite the venue operating legally and “over the table.” Likewise, the demise of The Glove came as the result of complaints from a luxury building constructed next door to it. However, Trans Pecos continues to be active and unhindered in its original location.
A third crop of venues has been open since 2019, all of them operating in a fully formal manner. These have become some of the main hubs for the local scene. TV Eye, The Broadway, and Purgatory all opened in 2019. TV Eye established itself in Ridgewood a few blocks from Trans Pecos at the site of a former warehouse later converted to an Evangelical church. Meanwhile, The Broadway is located in Bushwick at the former site of The Gateway. On the other hand, Purgatory is located in an ex-industrial building on the far edge of Bushwick, close to Brownsville, far away from the rest of the scene, though still easily accessible by train.
Old vs New Spaces
There is a common thread among the first two generations of venues. Firstly, the vast majority began as informal, operating as cash-only and often in discreet locations. Secondly, ownership of venues during this period was either groups of private individuals, many of whom are musicians, or collective ownership by a large group of people within the scene as was the case for Silent Barn or The Glove. Thirdly, there was a shared ethos, based on evidence from self-documenting material. Many of them describe themselves as “all ages” and highlight themselves as inclusive spaces that are community-oriented. “Community,” “Inclusive,” and “Safe Space” were among the common patterns that came up while coding their self-documentation.
Among some of these early venues, there was also an awareness of these spaces’ role in gentrification. Market Hotel in particular is explicit in discussing a desire to mitigate the effects of gentrification in its self-description, while the owners of Trans Pecos have discussed this as being central to their mission in multiple press write ups, offering use of the space to the local community who was there before the scene, and opening the venue up to community activities like dance classes for children. Its founders, the same as those of Market Hotel, explicitly reference DIY’s lack of engagement with surrounding marginalized communities as being “the elephant in the room” in an interview for music publication Pitchfork (Beta 2016). Market Hotel also takes on an explicitly anti-corporate posture with its website boasting of rejecting funding from corporations and hedge funds to stay afloat.
Newer venues built after 2019 stand in stark contrast. While both TVEye and The Broadway are popular venues for DIY bands, these are not necessarily DIY venues. The case of Purgatory appears more in line with the DIY ethos, however. Its location on the furthest, ungentrified edge of Bushwick may be a sign that the scene will start shifting its center of gravity in the coming years. The overall shift in ethos can be seen in the following ways. Firstly, these are all strictly formal venues, founded as such. They are front-facing and clearly visible as such from the outside. Their ticketing schemes are through online platforms or smaller ticketing companies like Dice. Secondly, both TVEye and The Broadway have more of a corporate ownership than their predecessors. The Broadway is owned by an LLC, while TVEye’s partners have ties to Bowery Electric and other corporate venue companies in New York City. Purgatory, on the other hand, is a smaller business co-owned by three women with more of a DIY ethos.
Thirdly, TV Eye and The Broadway do not appear to have the same ethos as the earlier generation of venues. Absent from their descriptions are terms like “community” or “inclusion,” instead focusing on their role as party spaces or event venues, often highlighting amenities like food and partnerships with chefs for culinary pop-ups. On the other hand, Purgatory, while a sleeker venue than the first few generations, appears to share the ethos of its DIY predecessors, highlighting both its inclusive nature and its LGBTQ and Female ownership.
There is also a notable aesthetic difference between the original DIY spaces and these newer venues. For the majority of these early venues, images show their exteriors as largely nondescript and often unmarked, reflecting their hidden, informal nature. Early venues that underwent formalization such as Market Hotel or the second Silent Barn became more forward facing and exteriors were decorated with colorful hand-painted art. Documentation of early venues shows these spaces as austere, with few decorations on the walls, simple stages, and basic sound systems. The spaces seemed overwhelmingly improvised. Images and videos of The Glove, for example, show a tight, simple performance space with blank walls and basic carpeting. Decorations appear to be reliant on who is at the stage at any given moment. Likewise, a writeup from the New York Times describes Silent Barn’s first iteration as “an art-covered Shangri-La for hipsters, with old couches perched on flights of risers in the main performance space and a dingy basement” (Feuer 2013).
The newer venues are more sleek than the grimier mainstays of the 2010s scene, indicating perhaps the presence of ample funding. For one, they are more visible, with large signs outside the venues which stand out from afar, or colored lights setting them apart from their surroundings. TV Eye, for instance, has a glowing neon eye visible from a block away, while neighboring Trans Pecos is practically nondescript. Purgatory’s building glows purple, setting it apart from the quiet post-industrial street surrounding it. In my visits to all three venues, I encountered a common aesthetic: mid century modern furniture, wood paneling, vintage couches, neon lights and signs glowing in striking colors like red or purple, kitschy vintage decorations, all designed to maintain a veneer of DIY quirkiness while looking sleek and shiny at the same time. These touches evoke punk nostalgia while appearing unthreatening to an increasingly affluent clientele.
The Venue Life Cycle
Based on the literature and prior research, the life cycle of venues in Bushwick has followed a pattern seen elsewhere in New York beforehand. Likewise, this venue cycle can be seen as a microcosm of how neighborhoods shift as the result of gentrification, and how the DIY scene has responded to criminalization of its informal nature. As such, the patterns observed through this research can be summarized into a theory on this life cycle.
Secondary sources on the Bushwick scene describe venue turnover as quick. Venues exist for a few years and then they close down. Only a handful of first and second generation venues have survived intact since the scene first arrived in Bushwick and Ridgewood (see Figure 4). Only Rubulad has persisted in a purely DIY state, which is mostly a result of its constantly changing location and secrecy protocols. Some venues have survived as the result of long formalization processes (Market Hotel) or by establishing themselves as formal since the start (Trans Pecos). It is unclear what the trajectory of the 2019-founded venues will be.
A venue will usually appear on the site of a repurposed vacant building or its owners will purchase or rent the property from a previous business. Overwhelmingly, fully informal venues tend to be set up in former industrial spaces that sit unused. The original Silent Barn set up shop at a warehouse. So did Shea Stadium and The Glove. Purgatory, while a formal venue, established itself in an unused tomb-shaped building next to a vacant lot, which is rumored to have once housed a gravestone manufacturing business. Meanwhile, Market Hotel sits in a formerly mostly vacant building in a busy commercial street, unused since the 1980s. It shares the space with a supermarket on the ground floor. Other venues are repurposed as such on the site of a different establishment. The Gateway’s owners purchased a Caribbean nightclub on Broadway, while TV Eye bought their space from a church. Palisades was originally a hardware store, based on evidence from Google Maps, and the original Silent Barn was at a building that originally housed an architectural contracting firm.
Once the space has been repurposed into a DIY venue, it will likely garner cachet and attention for both itself and the surrounding neighborhood. At this point, its days as an informal performance space are likely numbered. If it starts out as formal, it may have a higher chance of survival. However, this may not always be the case. The reasons for such short lifespans are varied. They include rising rents, conflict with local authorities, tensions with neighboring luxury condos, pressure from local authorities crackdowns, or the inability to pay fines. In most cases, the crackdowns and closures seemed to coincide with an accelerated gentrification process in the surrounding area. Interestingly enough, none of the DIY venues in the area I have surveyed were permanently shuttered as a result of the COVID19 pandemic.
Once an informal venue is shut down, the response can vary. Firstly, it can disappear altogether, like Palisades or The Glove. Secondly, it may shut down but continue an online presence through the publication of archival recordings and live streams in the hopes that they might one day reopen, as is the case for Shea Stadium. Thirdly, it can attempt to formalize in the current space. Often, this is done through crowdfunding initiatives where success is most often not guaranteed. Shea Stadium and The Gateway were two unsuccessful efforts in this regard. In other cases, the venue might attempt to undergo formalization with no outside help or donation. This is highly costly and can take many years. Only Market Hotel has been successful in this regard, perhaps as the result of the owners’ revenue from another venue. Fourth, the venue might relocate to a different space, and either attempt to do so formally (Silent Barn) or continue to operate informally by changing locations (Rubulad). Finally, another scenario is that once the venue shuts down, the space is purchased or rented formally by different owners and reopened as a new venue.The site of the first Silent Barn became Trans Pecos and The Gateway became The Broadway.
Conclusion
The DIY scene has changed as the result of neighborhood gentrification and tensions with local authorities. Meanwhile, informal spaces are practically nonexistent aside from a few exceptions. Corporatized high-budget venues are filling in the void that DIY spaces used to fill. These spaces are straying from the scene’s original ethos and will likely become increasingly expensive, attracting more mainstream acts. It is likely that this will be the norm as it was for Williamsburg and Lower Manhattan. Trans Pecos and Market Hotel remain thriving, affordable, independent, and formal. Yet, it is unclear if they will eventually cave due to the pressures of rising costs around them, or whether they will survive under their current model once the scene moves away. In addition, more DIY-style venues are setting up shop on the farthest edge of Bushwick accessible by train. This indicates that the scene may be moving east, and is perhaps a harbinger of gentrification bleeding into Bushwick’s edges. There are also more authentic DIY spaces opening up in Brooklyn but these operate with higher levels of secrecy and discretion, much like the longstanding Rubulad. One such space is the increasingly popular Chaos Computer in the Ocean Hill/Brownsville area which boasts an explicitly anticapitalist ethos, eschews a social media presence, maintains a secretive location, and funds itself through an open source platform.
Other loose threads remain in this discussion. Firstly, given the secretive nature around much of DIY, it is likely that this research is only scratching the surface. There are likely many venues and spaces, especially home and basements-based shows that this ethnography did not explore in depth. Secondly, it is also necessary to look at how some pre-existing local businesses have changed as a result of the scene’s presence. For example, The Windjammer, an established bar in Ridgewood, has begun to offer space for DIY shows. Likewise, other scenes including the underground dance scene in these same neighborhoods intersect with the DIY community and may be worth looking at as well. There may also be a growing commodification of the DIY ethos with more upscale ‘house show’ venues in the vein of The Glove emerging, but attracting crowds from the celebrity scene and fashion industry, while booking acts signed to bigger labels. This can be seen in the emergence of venues like The Hancock in Bed-Stuy, which operate as fully DIY, but book more well-known acts and keep an air of exclusivity.
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