Erik Stinson
I was born at a Seattle Washington hospital in December of the year 1987, to my mother, Julia, and father, William. My mother was math and science teacher. My father was a mechanical engineer for an airplane manufacturer.
DEEP DIVE and CEO ONBOARDING
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Image by BC (see below in post for further detail)
From the soon-to-be-updated website of my current employer (modified):
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American Standstill
(LIVE, UPDATED RADAR IMAGE)
We’ve been moved to total standstill. New York City is on its knees. There is a potential for days more of this. If the power goes out, things could be really slow, really quiet.
I am with friends. We watch hours of Law and Order SVU. We listen to Apple TV radio stations called “Smooth Cruise” and “Breeze FM”
Supportive Creative Environments and The Pop Art of Exclusion
Williamsburg Creatives Roundtable Showcase RAW AND UNCUT from Erik Stinson on Vimeo.
A rooftop near a new condo development was the perfect place to showcase some young creatives just settling into the perfect artistic mood of New York City in 2012. There were some questions. The deepness of creativity was tested. The problem of wealth and power was close to the surface. Love was in the air.
Vicarious MFA / Comments Off on Supportive Creative Environments and The Pop Art of Exclusion
October 1st, 2012 / 11:04 am
October 1st, 2012 / 11:04 am
Adam Smith’s Multi-Touch Invisible Hand
In school there was always the grade. Now we’ve graduated to a system of answers privately corrected, and of public failure. Do you know the markets? I play them sometimes. They are not always open, you see. Though I suppose there are these constant rumors of emotional success. Yoga, for example. Parenting? The system of invisible and unpronounceable truth partially submerged in unfolding experience: value. I think I like to see it both as our American currency, and as the sort of power you can have in bed or at the office.
Boners of Bushwick
Episode one, in Erik Stinson’s series “Boners of the Free World”
1. Nu Stallion: A feeling of elation near the subway exit of the Morgan L station. This is the night beginning to hasten. The wind in the Oak at a nearby park pushes a feeling. The party is over here. The party is over there. Women pass me heading to the train in the opposite direction.
Automotive Experience
The Impossible Global Freeway
Catch me showrooming a discontinued Saab in New Jersey – I would only buy online. I’m trolling the dealer, he’s thinking I can afford a new interior. I’ll end up with Ford, I’m sure. Or, catch me in Paris, loving the low-emission turbo diesel cab. See me climbing the North Cascade Highway in a borrowed Rav4 or my parent’s (now gone) Forest Green Toyota Sienna.
When I think about everything we’ll lose in the next century, the automobile comes into my mind. It roars in with the the force of the locomotive and the companionship of a horse. I’m reading Train Dreams now, and last week, I read High Life. It’s like, we’re all at a party, singing to the wind blowing by. We’re all smoking dinosaur bones in a back room of a bar at closing. This kind of thing can’t last. Eventually they ban cigarettes, even on city streets.
Here are the cars of my life. May there be many more.
1985 VW Scirocco – This was my mother’s car when she married my father. Silver with leather and it looked very fast. When I was 9, my parents escaped serious injury when it was rear-ended by a large white commercial truck. Totaled. They were driving back from a ski trip to Whistler BC, Canada. The driver was an epileptic who failed to take his medication. My parents chose not to file suit, partly because of the Canadian jurisdiction. I remember very little of my time with this car, though I would like to have it now. I also remember my father’s Yellow Nissan truck, from this period, though it was an ugly thing that he sold or gave to a relative.
Behind the Scenes & Technology / Comments Off on Automotive Experience
September 4th, 2012 / 9:01 pm
September 4th, 2012 / 9:01 pm
Michael Godard: Art that is Freedom from Success
The UK low-res pop band Cleaners From Venus have a song called “Corridor of Dreams,” which I think is basically the most chillwave, or even dadwave, thing possible. I don’t mean this as a joke or even as disrespectful. Ariel Pink was and is a huge fan of this band. I found out about this song when I was dating (or trying to sleep with?) a girl in a band in Oakland CA, before I left for NYC, in 2010. We were driving to get milk shakes from McDonalds in West Oakland. It was a hot spring day. She had amazing tits and didn’t give a fuck what I thought of here. I let her borrow my Fender and she almost didn’t give it back. The woman in question dropped it off with Frankie Rose when she came to New York on tour. I didn’t go to her show. She said my guitar was a piece of shit.
She put the song on, in her tour van, and I didn’t want to leave California, ever.
I’m listening to it now. It has the most amazing lyrics. They are all fantastic. Here are a couple lines.
The International Brooklyn Luxury Market
There’s this hot little new essay in Williamsburg off the L. Rustic, natural, American: you’re going to love it!
The Brooklynification of luxury goods and services is an international trend that has been covered in such lit zines/blogs as the New York Times
Everyone is happy that people in Paris (Russian tourists) can finally get the kind of food cool Americans (Williamsburg residents) have been enjoying forever (~5 years). You don’t need to ask why, of course. But I kind of get a kick out of it, so here goes…
Also, I’ve perviously written about Williamsburg culture for The Atlantic, and as a kind of extension I feel I can comment on the exportation of “Brooklyn™” as a premium brand. Let me begin.
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Erik Stinson—
Chill little New Yorker blog post about Justin Taylor’s new story in the New Yorker. Story is for paid subscribers only, but according to the adorable little pop-up ad, they are offering a free “WEEKENDER” bag (wine bottle pocket? fold-out cheese plate? 401k 101 booklet?) for new recruits, so get the urge.
