By now it should be common knowledge that NIMBY was engulfed in flames on September 10th. The villian was not the notorious flame effects art, nor was it a stray welding spark, nor was it a late night drunken game of redneck soccer. It was an innocent-seeming candle [edit: some reports are saying that it was a space heater]. With all the dangerous equiptment left and right, the danger inherent in such a small flickering flame [or small appliance] was forgotten.
Thankfully, the fire was extinguished before it destroyed much more than the container where it began. The inspectors have come and gone by now, issued their citations, NIMBY now stands shuttered. The art and artists who called it home are left without access to their means of creativity.
Like the fire that engulfed Headless Point and the troubles of the Shipyard, it is a sad day. Both Headless and the Shipyard have recovered to a certain extent but it has been a long haul for both of them. NIMBY’s fate is still uncertain but there is a movement to find a new location to start again — sadly rebuilding at the current location is not an option which makes things so much more difficult.
I will miss NIMBY as I still miss the Cracktory. I was never as close with the Shipyard nor with Headless — the latter had it’s calamity right when I was getting to know it. Whereas, NIMBY, like the Cracktory, felt like home — I never actually lived there, but I have numerous good memories from art projects and laughter between freinds around the burn barrel.
Is it wrong to miss a location as you would miss a person? More to the point: is it wrong to miss a place more than you miss people?
I’ve floated through numerous social circles in my life: some have evolved and reformed and others have disappeared to become little more than pocket lint. These fickle social strands flex, twist, grow, and sometimes disintigrate with few feelings of sadness for me. On the other hand, when places move on, especially places with such character and moxie, I am left with a hole in my heart which can never quite be filled.
Blogged from my iRudder