Diary entries of Slovenian artists residing in a Brooklyn apartment between 2010–2018

Hey, Brooklyn is our home – second one, of course! Don’t be afraid, it might just welcome you!
Good jazz also at Showmann’s in Harlem.
The left window in the living/bedroom got stuck and couldn’t be closed. I fixed it, but it can’t be opened anymore.
Propolis is fresh – I hope you won’t need it.
The cheapest grocery store is Associated Supermarket a few streets up.
The whole month was fine, no trace of the cockroaches the previous tenant mentioned.
There were two short visits from Mr. Bug, so really keep all food in the fridge or cupboard.
The cheapest shot + beer is at The West. Happy hour all day, both for $5. And the backyard where you can also smoke.
Basically, if it’s your first time, it takes three weeks to get used to the system, but once it gets under your skin, the time flies – so enjoy!
I wish you a pleasant stay in New York, it’s a city that blows your mind – may it be successful, fitting, and creative! P.S. All the drains are unfortunately clogged. There were no cockroaches, but we were careful and kept most of the food in the fridge.
We didn’t notice any mice – probably it was lured to its summer residence.
The apartment is fine, the phone doesn’t work – the Ministry of Culture says they don’t have money for a new device.
My month went by 1-2-3, I wish yours goes slower. In the basement there’s a washing machine with quarters (you need 8 = $2).
The bike is barely rideable, brakes need adjustment.
The toaster doesn’t work.
In Manhattan, the cheapest and best Vietnamese restaurant is Nang Tra on Canal Street.
Once a month, the cleaning lady Maria comes to clean the entire apartment after the tenants leave.
Attention! Food on store shelves (all of them!) is often expired – always check the date!!!
One of the realizations is that if you want to achieve something in this city, you must persist, even be rude and arrogant – that’s just how it is!
For catching cockroaches, we recommend a roach motel, which you can buy at a local hardware store.
Do not open the left window in the bedroom!!
We exterminated the cockroaches with a heavy heart.
As long as they stayed in the closet, it was tolerable, but once they relaxed and started walking around the apartment, there was no other way but: “smack on the head!”
Phone numbers of taxi services in Williamsburg: 718 387 7000 • 718 486 4444 • 718 599 1111 • 718 388 2222 • 718 387 2222 • $35 to JFK

Wall Writtings I.

At the beginning of March, I get off the subway for the first time at my home station in Brooklyn. A deep voice greets me at the intersection from under the hood: "Hello, Mr Traveller!". I must be having a really hard time hiding my huge and considerably overweight suitcase full of photobooks, which I bring with the desire to succeed in a city where nothing is impossible. After being coldly ignored by most of the editors of the big-name newspapers, my desire to pursue the American dream cools down a bit, but I soon turn my attention to the joys of big-city life.

Living here is living in the movies. The tall skyscrapers over which millionaires whiz by in their helicopters, the white smoke billowing from the street canals, the fascinating people of all nationalities and fashions, the rats in the subway stations and the omnipresent noise that soon makes you realise that headphones in this city are not only useful for listening to music, as a fashion accessory and a status symbol, but also as a tool for survival. Many people are completely exhausted by the fast pace of life, working three jobs at once and the constant pressure of success that seems within reach, but for many is never really attainable.

In the city that never sleeps, dreams come true and shatter into pieces more often than anywhere else on the planet. I met strangers, and some became my friends, and I learned about their desires—a stable job, a safe haven, an end to war, freedom of expression, fame, or simply to be loved.

Wall Writtings II.

This year, for the first time, I’m realizing that some people I photograph, I photograph for the last time.

“I tell my neighbor I hope I recycled the trash correctly, and he responds, ‘Don’t worry, I won’t call the NYPD on you just yet.’”

A young journalist on sedatives, a crashed website, a photographer barely making minimum wage, and a new diesel car parked under the roof.

My day is infinitely better when I get 476 likes for an Instagram post compared to when I get 68. Pathetic, I know.

Men will literally make 150×100 cm photos on archival paper, with wooden frames and anti-reflective glass, instead of going to therapy.