New Writer Welcome: Erick Sierra

Please join the COA family in welcoming our newest writer, Erick Sierra! Erick’s bio is available on our ‘Our Roots‘ authors page.

In what part of New York City did you grow up?
I grew up in the fascinating Brooklyn neighborhood of Williamsburg. As I will explore in a piece on COA, the neighborhood transformed from a multi-ethnic working class haven into the global polestar of hipster cool. It was fascinating to experience the whole transition and to feel myself transforming along with the neighborhood. In many ways, I feel like some sort of embodied version of Willy-B, as it now teems with hipsters yet is still dotted throughout with Puerto Ricans—undying pulses of a former life.

Were you a nerd, jock, smoking-in-the-boys-room, or N/A in high school; and followup,
which would you have been in hindsight?
It’s interesting how this question connects to the first question. I was in high school in Williamsburg as the neighborhood was transforming. But I was also hanging out a lot with my homeboys in Greenwich Village (shout to Galex!), where I worked throughout my sophomore year at a Ben & Jerry’s on 6th Avenue. The Village was black, Puerto Rican, white; gay, straight, bi; sartorially and artistically explosive; a place where writers from the 60s (now much older) sat side-by-side Warhol at the café. This exhilarating eclecticism left its mark on me and my friends.

What inspired you to share your stories on the COA blog?
One thing the artist does is observe, and one thing we go to art for is observation—to observe the world through another’s eyes and, in the best of instances, to discover it there anew. As I explored the blog, it seemed to me a place filled with fascinating observations. I love to travel—in a very real way, I live to travel—and the blog seemed a wunderkammer of objects and places from across the US. My notebook is filled with such kinds of observations, and I wanted a place to share them.

Deep dish or thin crust? Be honest…
Deep dish and thin crust came together to make a baby: the Sicilian. Now that’s what
I’m talking about.

Erick Sierra. Click for author page.

Erick Sierra, seen here on the streets of Buenos Aires, Argentina.

The Green Mill Didn’t Ask You What Time It Is

The Green Mill

The Green Mill didn’t ask you what time it is. “Oh geez,” you say, as you emerge from it’s ancient timbers and shield your eyes from the sun. Is it 2015 already?

The bass player mouths his parts and savors his solo. He sings a song that only exists right now in front of us. By the way; who am I to quantify jazz anyways? Let’s let it happen.

The bass player mouths his moment and sings a song that’s never been written. The chorus almost feels like a cop-out, but there has to be a gravitational center to even this universe. The Green Mill didn’t ask you what time it is, and 5 AM comes quickly when you lose gravity.

Take the sign out front and the one behind the stage. Did you know they don’t teach cursive to kids anymore? Sidebar; it’s called ‘script’ in the Western-World-proper now. But at The-Green-Mill-proper it is flow. It’s the writing of love letters never delivered. Locked up inside your mind and summoned now by the saxophone. It’s the discourse of the dead, and you’re surprised it’s passed. But in green neon cursive has lived until 5 AM every morning since… since cursive was the language of love letters never delivered. And who asked you anyways? The Green Mill didn’t ask you what time it is.

If it has a reed, he can play it. Versatility is no luxury at the Mill. It’s what you have to do. There aren’t really words that can describe the suffrage locked up in jazz. And who am I to define jazz anyways?

Chicago is 77 official planets/countries/cities/neighborhoods, and one is ever really from where they are at this moment. The Mill is the new American melting pot as far as you or I are concerned. It is bread basket and mother and secret lover of all creativity. It is music written right in front of us and never played again. It’s a love letter never delivered. And it’s time immemorial. The Green Mill didn’t ask you what time it is.

Click to view on Instagram and follow us. Yu-yu Ren photo.

Click to view on Instagram and follow us. Yu-yu Ren photo.