Normally, this is the kind of fire at the House of Yes.



But last night, it was a seemingly innocuous toaster and a five foot paper puppet goblin head hung on the wall above that began a dangerous dance of flames that engulfed the enclave of a dozen or more artists. The enormous loft, performance space and living quarters located near flushing and metropolitan was a well loved and respected community that regularly hosted gatherings for the purposes of making fun and art.

I'd actually only ever been once before....but during the day to pickup up some things to bring to another event. I was welcomed graciously and fed breakfast before I was allowed to leave on my errand way. It felt like Home for my few minutes of mealtime.

Last night, I had just arrived at a party hosted by another collective and underground live music and late night party promise land. The host alerted me to the fact that there had been a fire and asked if I could drive his van to them to load out any salvaged belongings.

So I jump in the van, whip across Brooklyn and arrive at the two story building, to a see people scattered about placing things out on the streets. I walk up the dark stairs and wade through ankle high pools of ashen water. We carry out as many things as we can before the landlord comes to board up the doors to prevent looting.

Spirits remain high despite the tragic events of the evening. We gather up things, jump in the vans drive off to not so distant Dumbo. The party continues past dawn, until eventually the House of Yes members crash on couches to dream away the day.