The 'New-Yawk' Gremlin
The City That Keeps You Feral
New York City is not hospitable. She is very big, and she has no heart. And yet, I keep on returning. Why? Am I insane, a lover of cruel things, or is there something to be learned underneath the hardshell? NYC may not offer conventional warmth, but it radiates a fierce mindset: a tough cookie with a secretly molten, gooey core—if you’re willing to brave the heat.
Some places teach you lessons you can only learn by being there. New York teaches me about movement. About making space instead of waiting for it to open up.
There’s something about this city that keeps people feral. No one moves here for an easy life. It’s a city of urgency, of audacity. You don’t come to New York to be comfortable—you sharpen your instincts and see if you have what it takes.
When I arrived in 2018 the first time, I had nothing but a portfolio and the belief that I could be a painter. London galleries laughed at me, and New York said, ‘Let’s see what you’ve got.’
It’s why I keep coming back.
Every time I land, it feels like both a homecoming and a test—the kind of place that demands something from you.
And now, I’m back.
For the next eight days, I’ll be painting three pieces as part of an artist residency with The Standard East Village, capturing the in-between moments of this city—the things people overlook, the stories that stay with you: coffee cups, basketball courts, It-Girls, Golden Girls, and the Poets who have shaped culture.
What New York Taught Me About Creativity
New York isn’t just a backdrop—it’s a method.
Every time I arrive, I feel the unrelenting energy, the weight of expectation, and the understanding that every moment matters.
The people here don’t let you hide. They are (unlike the Brits) painfully honest and demand clarity and pace… oh the pace. What do you want? Why does it matter? Are you ready to claim it? These are questions people ask underneath the WAY they say the thing.
I’m writing in The Lower East Side; I think of Patti Smith, writing Just Kids, documenting the raw, necessary years of making something from nothing. I think of the It-Girls of every decade, always ahead of their time, constantly reinventing themselves. I think of my mentor, telling me stories of McQueen’s early days, models pacing downtown streets in his designs before the world understood his genius.
New York operates on its own rules. Show up. Take risks. Learn fast. Keep moving.
The Mindset Shift: From Aspiring to Owning
Most creatives talk about wanting opportunities. New York teaches you to create them.
The ones who thrive here aren’t waiting—they build. They put themselves in the right rooms, make the first introduction, and move with a quiet certainty before anyone else confirms it for them.
There’s a reason brands like Aimé Leon Dore, Ralph Lauren, and Marc Jacobs flourish here. They understand presence—the art of framing something so it holds weight, the power of storytelling, the ability to make something feel inevitable.
NEW YAWK NRG Gremlins. Intentional, assured, and in motion.
For the Gremlins Who Are Ready to Move Differently
New York is a mirror. It reflects what you bring to it. The energy you move with, the risks you take, the decisions you make—all of it comes back to you.
A few things I’ve learned—things that might shift the way you move:
Put yourself in the right places. Opportunities don’t knock. They don’t show up at your door with a handwritten invitation. They exist where people are making things happen. If you’re not in those rooms, find a way in. If you’re in the wrong rooms, leave.
Permission is a myth. No one is keeping you out, but no one is rolling out the red carpet either. The doors you’re eyeing? They’re already open—just unmarked. Walk in. Say hello. Be useful.
Confidence comes from action. The best artists, designers, and entrepreneurs weren’t waiting for approval. They stepped forward before anyone told them they could. The world adjusted to their energy.
Make before you consume. It’s easy to scroll, research, and study the game. But clarity comes from making, not watching. Start now. Refine later.
Rejection is a signal, not a stop sign. The wrong people won’t get it. That’s fine. The right ones will. Keep moving until you find them.
From The Factory >
I named the series Sweet Nothings after the small A6 sketch studies that inspired these glimpses into NYC life—capturing its big, wacky, fun-loving characters, IT girls and basketball players, old ladies with stories to tell, and bold, unfiltered conversations over candlelight. It’s a love letter to the city that has shaped some of the greatest poets and writers, from Lorde to Didion.
Prompts >
PRACTICE
Act first, refine later.
Think of one opportunity you’ve been waiting for—a connection, a project, a conversation. Now, stop waiting. Take one step toward it today. Draft the email, make the call, book the ticket. Do the thing before you feel ready.
ASK SOMEONE
What’s the boldest move you’ve ever made?
REFLECT
Where in your life are you waiting for permission?
Where are you waiting for someone to notice you, validate you or make the first move?
What would happen if you stopped waiting and acted as if you belonged?
Musings >
"I think I belong here."
— Joan Didion"You gotta have style. It helps you get down the stairs. It helps you get up in the morning. It’s a way of life. Without it, you’re nobody."
— Diana Vreeland"In New York, you are your own aesthetic movement."
— Fran Lebowitz"You either have a presence, or you don’t. No one in New York has time for the in-between."
— Chloë Sevigny
With love & momentum, K
It's an interesting take on New York.
It never leaves you indifferent.
I first started writing around the time I spent a summer there. I found it exciting and slightly scary. But I figured out my summer there.
I had 5 roommates.
One taught pottery at the Brooklyn museum.
Another was an accomplished pianist who played for rehearsals at the Opera. He told me he studied the score in the subway to prepare, so that during the actual rehearsals he could read the newspaper while playing!
With a third, were worked together doing odd jobs and helping people to move, I had a van at the time...
And there was a guy who had a different idea every day, one was starting a pushcart business called "LotsaMatzah".
That summer I discovered Shakespeare in the Park, where James Earl Jones played Lear to Mayor Lindsay in the audience, with some hilarious political winking.
It was the summer when I couldn't stop reading Shakespeare. Having finished pre-med, I switched to writing. Perfectly logical.