The Brooklyn Museum

Inspired by Walter's appreciation for the Fine Culture in the Philadelphia Museum of Art, I decided to do some Hi-Culturing of myself. The Brooklyn Museum has a Norman Rockwell exhibit I've been meaning to go see for a while now. I'm thinking it lasts til sometime in April. Go see it. It has tons of his original paintings and the staged photographs he produced to piece together his portraits of America. Pure awesomeness.

The two shitty photographs above were all I managed to take, because photography in this exhibit is prohibited, and some old lady told on me. Damn noisy autofocus is what gave me away. I could feel the security start to swarm, and so I ditched my efforts. Anyways, the cool part about this exhibit is seeing Rockwell's process for capturing these hyper-realistic, super-detailed scenes. My favorite part was seeing how he propped up his models with books and boxes so he could position them just right long enough for what I imagine was touchy photo equipment to get a good exposure. Even the chinless grimaces and curled toes were planned out in the photographs.

This is the first time I've been in a respectable museum and seen a piece produced by someone younger than me. It made me wonder if I was doing enough with my life. I mean, shit, this painting above was done by some girl born in the Eighties. But it was ok. Luckily the description said the painting included cryptic references to personally significant events in the artists life, so you know it's pure crap. OMG, you were born in 1982? You should put that number over and over again in your bullshit paintings about your Sea-Monkey friends doing 'shrooms at Coachella. It totally has lots of meaning and stuff.

This dude kept getting in my shots, so here he is being a perv.

Afterwards, I went to Papacito's in Greenpoint for some tacos. I was skeptical because most Mexican food in NYC completely sucks balls, and after following NewYorkShitty Blog for some time, I was expecting Greenpoint to be utterly depressing and filled with miserable Eastern European immigrants schlepping around bed bug-ridden mattresses while picking at their facial moles. But Greenpoint is actually pretty much the stereotypical hipster Brooklyn hood (with Polish bodegas).

When I strolled up, Papacito's had a small group of hipsters taking up the entire sidewalk, holding a discussion about the importance of antique equipment in their production of artisanal pancakes. This is the kinda place 20-somethings with arms loaded with tattoos from cultures they don't belong to like to hang out. Also, Japanese girls that dress like Pablo Picasso like this place, too. Apparently, it was Heavy Metal Sunday which means they play Quiet Riot and Joan Jett.

The Chorizo Taco (the red one) was pretty fucking delicious. While taking this photo, I noticed people staring at me. Yep, I'm an asshole with a blog. I take pictures of my food before I eat it.