I’d spent a lot of time trying to figure out the proper pronunciation for “BOS” but after attending Holy BOS, I have single-handedly decided, it has to be “boss.”
Like the best parts of the seemingly infinite number of galleries to peruse (okay, around 400), Holy BOS killed it when it was site and moment-specific. Which makes a lot of sense. Bushwick Open Studios isn’t about art, it’s about getting people together around art.
And so, whether it was a film festival splattered by colored light coming from the stained-glass windows of Bobby Redd church on Sunday night. A packed basement performance on Saturday afternoon by DMZL ritual art that was part Greek myth, part science fiction and part costumes Madonna would have killed for during her pointy-bra phase. A side room filled with guitars, percussion and other instruments for spontaneous jam sessions with Good Friend Electric—and an adorable Dalmatian.
Holy BOS was about art lovers being together.
Henry Glucroft, co-owner of Little Skips and Sabrina Yasmine Smith founder of blog Art Gypsy Tales curated the event around the space and the theme of abstraction. “Everything is really site specific,” Smith says. “In many ways this is a big art piece.” And more than a thousand attendees agreed.
The vets of the local art scene drew upon the artists they knew and loved to exhibit. While much less gallery than the art-a-palooza complex of 56 Bogart, it offered a canvas for artists including James Keul and Abel Macias–literally, with painted walls and the like.
Phoenix took over an outside yard and constructed The Desert Forest. From the outside, it looked like plastic strips immaculately strung up but as soon as you and your shoe-less feet walked across a rocky barrier, it was 2,500 square feet of disorientation and bliss. Foam and fake fur caressed your feet. The white sheets felt like walking through a downpour, without the wet but with all the lack of visibility. Makes a lot of sense that it’ll be traveling to Burning Man later this summer.
The communing was made literal at Andrew Ohanesian’s beer-confessional pieceMandies. A bar inside what looks like a confessional. Oh yeah, there was a nice cold keg in there.
And the party didn’t stop at free beer. There were two nights of music and lights shows from Ryan Uzilevsky on Friday and Saturday. “It was art in all forms. Vibrating energies from performers and the audience,” Smith says eloquently. Or you could rephrase it as: It was a sweet art party in a motherfucking church. Good times, guaranteed.
The only wonder is how Glucroft and Smith made it to the next mornings’ yoga and brunch on Saturday and Sunday, respectively.
It’s pat to say, “You had to have been there,” but if that’ll get it mentally bookmarked if it happens again (Glucroft and Smith haven’t made promises either way, yet), I’m saying it right now.