It seemed like people didn't quite know where to start at MoMA's June 4th Garden Party. So naturally, the line to get in quickly turned into the line to take a photo on the pass and repeat, where a large flower wall emblazoned with the museum's logo acted as a tractor beam for the content-hungry . Then it quickly became the cocktail line.
While there were a few artists in the crowd (Jim D'Amato was spotted at the bar telling stories), most partygoers seemed more interested in dealing with art than making it. As blown-up versions of the MoMA logo were projected onto the stone walls and the scent of Diptyque citronella candles filled the air, guests circulated in tuxedos, power suits and elegant dresses, clearly from the ticketed dinner held previously in the museum room. to support educational initiatives around the collection.
For the first two hours of the afterparty, a DJ played house music for the crowd as they grabbed cheese crackers from passing trays and drank cocktails like the “Summer Heat,” a mix of tequila, fresh watermelon, chile and file By 11 p.m., the energy was palpably buzzing as the crowd waited for Fletcher to perform. But a small group of attendees had something in mind to grab everyone's attention.
Moments into Fletcher's set, early arrangements were interrupted by a battalion of security guards dragging a man off stage. In a few quick movements, he was tackled and dragged by his limbs to the large door on 53rd Street. The band continued to play until another group of guards entered from the other side of the stage. This time, they carried out a woman in a black dress and a green shawl, who was escorted through the building. Fletcher's song covered the screams of the protesters, but more continued to appear in the crowd. Over the course of the first two songs, three or four were given the boot.
At a party like this, this show was so absorbing that the crowd hardly noticed when Fletcher had to take a moment between songs to fix a wardrobe malfunction. The show, however, went on.
I left not long after and walked to the corner of 53rd Street to catch a cab, where I saw a group of familiar faces: the protesters. They seemed friendly enough and were obviously considered low risk to keep around, so I went to talk to them. They were from a group called “Summer of Heat” (yes, in a moment of ironic alignment, almost the same name as the garden party's signature cocktail), which is organizing a series of nonviolent protests aimed at accepting Wall Street's support for the fossil. – Fuel industry.
After an eventful night I was ready for one more drink so I made my way downtown to Clandestino. There were no stock traders or wealth managers, no short-lived protests, but there were three artist friends drinking cans of beer and scribbling on napkins.
