Mrs. Okie and I were listening to Mozart piano concertos and drinking coffee in our apartment on a lazy Sunday when I went to turn the album over and heard some nice jazz coming through our open window. I said "Is that coming from the street?" Our neighbors tend to play rap, Micheal Jackson, and crummy elevator jazz. Sure enough, I looked out the window and saw a keyboardist and bassist playing on the subway overpass, and a gathering of locals on the other side of the street. We shed our pajamas, slung on some jeans and t-shirts, and grabbed the camera.
The murals are painted on a particle board barrier that surrounds a vacant lot next to the subway station.
A Brooklynite in front of a mural of Brooklyn in Brooklyn.
Sylvia's condiment portraits were my favorite.
And here are the culprits of swinging street jazz.
These were all locals affiliated with plgarts. Days like this make me glad we can no longer afford to live in Manhatan.