Queens Bridges

A Staircase Collapses, and So Does a Creative Community

Posted on 19. Sep, 2009 by Andrea Riquier in Arts & Culture, Public Affairs

Last year, when Carla Reyes learned of an available workspace at Crane Street Studios in Long Island City, she was elated. Crane Street housed nearly 200 artists and was located in the iconic building also known as 5Pointz – a sprawling, graffiti-covered former water-meter factory in the artsy neighborhood along the East River.

But when the 35-year-old painter and mixed-media artist went to see the space – her first professional studio – she realized the building had a downside. Two exterior staircases flanked each side of the building, and seemed to Reyes to dangle from the building’s façade. “I never saw them as safe,” she said.

In the end, practical concerns outweighed her worry. The rent at Crane Street, where she would be subletting a portion of the space belonging to a long-established artist, was cheap, the location was ideal, and the idea of having a studio in the middle of a community of artists was too appealing to turn down. “We were all there at our own risk – we knew what we were paying for,” she said. “However, just because artists are willing to put up with something, it doesn’t mean it’s right.”

Zoran Crnkovic moved into the building 10 years ago, long before it had an identity either as Crane Street Studios or as 5Pointz – in fact, even before the existing studio configuration existed.  He had to build his own walls, he said, and battle rat infestation. There was rotting insulation around the pipes, and lead paint. “It was a lot of manual work to make it manageable,” he recalled.

Crnkovic did all the work himself, and said that the landlord invested “75 cents” in the building.  “They said this was your problem,” he added. Crnkovic had the same feeling about the exterior stairs as Carla Reyes did. “It always looked dangerous,” he said. “You could see cracks and pieces of concrete falling. They would paint over where the gaps were. It was an accident waiting to happen.”

Last April 10, the long-feared accident did happen. An artist named Nicole Gagne left her third-floor studio by way of the exterior staircase. As she made her way down, the staircase gave way underneath her and she plunged almost 50 feet to the ground, buried underneath the iron staircase. Crnkovic was working in his studio, one side of which faces the section where Gagne fell, when the accident happened.

“I ran out and saw the rubble,” he said. “I couldn’t even recognize that it was Nicole. The same day a big piece of concrete had fallen off. She may have just stepped exactly where it happened.”

Gagne was taken to Bellevue Hospital, where she remained in critical condition for many weeks. She has declined to speak to the press and the extent of her injuries is unknown, but she underwent multiple surgeries. Following the accident, the Department of Buildings announced an order to vacate the premises, and issued 11 violations against the building’s owner, G&M Realty. Among the most serious offenses cited was the fact that the company had never had a proper certificate of occupancy to allow artist studios to be constructed and occupied.

G&M Realty is run by Long Island developer Gerald Wolkoff, who has owned the building for 40 years and vehemently denies that there was any reason to believe the stairs were faulty. “Are you crazy?” he said in a recent interview. “My kids and I ran up those stairs. The portion that collapsed, the day before, I was on it. Frank who works for me was on it. My son David was on it.”

Wolkoff claimed that what the artists perceived as pieces of the wall falling was actually caused by a harmless process called spalling, which occurs naturally when water reacts with concrete and causes it to flake or chip. However harmless spalling may be in some instances, though, one of the Buildings Department’s complaints addresses it specifically, noting, “At time of inspection exterior stairs have spalling concrete and exposed rebar. Building façade has spalling concrete with large pieces missing.”

“A horrible thing happened to this young lady,” Wolkoff said. “Don’t ask me why. Thank God, she’s getting better.” Turning to the physical conditions, he added that “exterior staircases are not even needed for fire code” because two interior staircases are considered sufficient. However, the Buildings Department issued two violations about the interior staircases, one calling the egress path was too narrow, and the other stating the stairs had cracks and that the treads were “worn and deteriorated.”

In some ways it was ironic that it was Nicole Gagne, of all people, who was the victim of the accident. Many of the artists noted that Gagne was the person most responsible for organizing the community, particularly for joint events like open studios. She has asked many of the other artists not to speak about her to the press, but one person described her as “the queen bee.”

At the end of July, G&M Realty sent a letter to the Crane Street tenants, letting them know they had until August 22 to vacate the building permanently. According to Wolkoff, the repairs the city required to correct the violations would have cost an “astronomical” amount. “I’m heartsick,” he said. “I’m absolutely sick.  I loved having them there.”

When the letter went out, Anki King, an eight-year Crane Street tenant, was showing some of her work in Norway. Before she left, she felt a hopeful mood among the artists, but the news reached her while she was away. King, whose studio held many large paintings and sculptures, was not able to find affordable space of her own and will share her boyfriend’s studio. She spent the first weeks of August scrambling to pack the contents of her studio into storage.

Carla Reyes, on the other hand, had a sinking feeling about the future of the building immediately after the accident, and quickly secured space in another building in Greenpoint, Brooklyn. She said many of the other artists had done the same thing. Zoran Crnkovic found a studio near Queens Plaza, which he described as being “surrounded by businesses,” rather than by artists.

All the artists say they will miss the community they created. “When I came to the building, I was still forming as an artist,” Crnkovic said. “It was comforting to be surrounded by people who were taking risks and willing to have values apart from the mainstream values of wealth and security. I was surrounded by people who found creative wealth more important than anything else.”

Robert Lucy, a painter working on the third floor – his first professional studio – added that the environment was helpful for him in terms of learning about practical things like grant money and gallery openings. “It was a sweet moment in my life,” he added, “and I am sorry to lose that sense of community.”

There is also a sense among the artists that the building itself has a special, almost magical quality.  Lucy, who had been in the building only a year when the accident happened, believes the graffiti of 5Pointz had a lot to do with that feeling. “Every day I came out of the subway tunnel I was really excited,” he said. “It had a spiritual quality – the graffiti seemed organic, almost alive. It was almost like an escape from the city – in this one block we celebrate art.”

The art of 5Pointz explodes all over the building’s walls – some of it tags of artists’ names, others more involved, almost cartoon-like scenes. An olive-colored military helicopter now covers the space where Nicole Gagne stepped out onto the stairway landing. Jonathan Cohen, also known as Meres, is 5Pointz’ curator and director. He says he wants to turn the building into a graffiti museum and youth center but he knows Wolkoff has other intentions for the building. “I know the value of this art,” he said. “It’s not a fad or a trend.”

In some ways, however, it is clear that the artists’ existence could not have survived forever. It was well-known that Gerald Wolkoff intended to convert the building into pricier real estate, a process that was already occurring to many old buildings in Long Island City. Many of the artists felt that they were in some ways the victims of their own success. Crnkovic described the process succinctly: “Artists come in, they are friendly, crime disappears, stores spring up, developers outprice them.”

Anki King added that many of the artists were relieved about the financial downturn which caused a glut of real estate in Long Island City. “We thought we’d bought some time,” she said. But the changes were inevitable, and some of the artists saw the pattern extending beyond Long Island City.  “People have a fantasy of New York City that survives from the sixties and seventies,” said Zoran Crnkovic. “You find a space that is crappy but affordable. But that does not exist any more.  It is one big shopping mall and developers are turning it into Generic City.”

Nina Rappaport, a writer and urban critic, said in a recent interview that the city has given developers great power to change neighborhoods. “New York has been led by developers wanting change – not by a city planning process,” she said. “Developers go and ask for permission to ‘up-zone’ and the city council says great. A developer with an interest in preserving the arts can have a real impact, but they are rare.”

For the Crane Street artists, whose rent never increased, the current real estate market is a shock. Jennifer Cushman, a sculptor who had the studio next to King’s for six years, said that at Crane Street she paid $600 a month for 600 square feet. She secured a new studio at Juvenal Reis, a studio space which provides finished studios and services for artists, which she describes as “one-third the space, but more money.”

One immediate impact of the high cost of space means artists will find it harder to work on a large scale. Anki King, who works in many different mediums, said she wouldn’t be able to sculpt until she gets permanently settled somewhere larger. “It limits my expression, but I’m hopeful that constriction can create something new,” she said.

A fundraiser for Nicole Gagne’s medical expenses was held in July, and one of the artists said she couldn’t believe Gagne was up and walking around, albeit with a cane. “She looked amazing,” said the person. Gagne proudly showed some of her scars, which the surgeons had managed to maneuver around her existing tattoos.

In early June, the city fined Gerald Wolkoff $12,800 on seven of the charges. A second hearing on two of the charges was held September 15, and the judge’s decision is expected within weeks; a third  hearing is scheduled for March 2010.

On August 22, Anki King made a slow pilgrimage through the building with a digital camera, documenting Crane Street’s last day. Some studios were broom-clean; others were crammed floor to ceiling and looked as if the owners had fled in the night. One empty studio was covered floor to ceiling in angry splashes of red and blue paint. The hallways overflowed with the remnants of the years: furniture, supplies, books, empty bottles and cans, disembodied plaster heads. King had arranged three figurines in the center of her studio with a sign reading “Homeless.” The figurines and a refrigerator full of beer were the only things left.In the hallway, several long-time neighbors lingered, unwilling to say good-bye.

Zoran Crnkovic had made little progress packing up his sprawling studio and busily loaded cart after cart, sweating in the thick humidity. “These are people who I grew comfortable with,” he said.  “Neighbors I could rely on, friends who would watch my plants and pigeons I rescued from the street. It’s about the connection with people who understand the way I live – the risky life of artists. We’re all kindred spirits.  And we were a stronghold of artists. This was the beauty of it.”