Neighborhood Pitch
Walking on the half-cracked pavements, past half- civilized frames of buildings, to partial civilization, a feeling of loneliness embraces you. Butcher shops, graffiti, and a waterfront confuse you. These strange feelings are reminiscent of Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
Williamsburg has been in a revolution for about ten years now. Buildings collapse, races move out, and it is forever changing. Fortunately, this revolution sprung forth what is present-day Williamsburg. Historically, the primarily Spanish and Jewish neighborhood was strictly occupied by these people. Williamsburg was not always the glossy stainless steel mini-metropolis we see today. Brick factory buildings now stand like skeletons of a generation’s past, waiting to crumble. These were places where people came to make a living doing whatever they could to support a family or just themselves. The younger generation reconstructs these dream fields into their homes or art studios or coffee shops nowadays. In effect, the younger generation nudges out the original pioneers of Brooklyn. This cycle has continued for years, eliminating the struggle once associated here into a place to love and live in.
This small part of Brooklyn seems to be as restless as the L trains shuttling its inhabitants. Growing up in neighboring Greenpoint, Williamsburg was a place I had never seen or set foot in. Primarily, because there were barely any paved streets. My mother worked there for a while, but there was never a Take Your Daughter to Work Day. The bad part of town has grown into a place of hope and accomplishment in a short amount of time. But forgotten are the first settlers.