The Knit

The decision to create a film festival was a lot easier than the decision about where to have it. I wanted to create something truly unique, and in order to do so, I felt like the festival needed to be held somewhere that personified the spirit of creativity and individuality. It had to be in a place that though bursting with potential, had yet to host anything remotely as ambitious as what I’d fantasized about on so many occasions. And since my bedroom is way too small to hold a festival in, I hit the streets of New York in search of a great venue – a place that would be able to host the world’s biggest block party.

But Manhattan seemed too corporate. Too tightly wound. There was no real sense of community in any of the neighborhoods I visited. Even the chick in the Raggedy Ann outfit in the East Village looked like she was wearing a Prada bag. I’d leave Manhattan to the likes of the Tribeca Film Festival and American Express.

My search unknowingly took me to the streets of Williamsburg, Brooklyn one unseasonably sweltering day in October. I was visiting a client in the area and I couldn’t resist the urge to explore the neighborhood before heading back home to the Upper East Side. The modern day artist colony, teeming with painters on skateboards and musicians wearing the types of glasses my Aunt Selma used to wear in the eighties, seemed like the perfect place for me to hold a festival dedicated to film, music and art. But I wondered where specifically in this uncommon neighborhood where hipster meets Hasid could such an event be held? I soon found myself standing on Metropolitan Avenue in front of a space that was undergoing major renovations. I asked a construction worker what they were working on, and when he told me that the famed Knitting Factory was setting up shop in Brooklyn at that location, I knew right then that I had to do the same. The only question that lingered in my mind was: could I actually get the Knitting Factory to agree to host my festival? Before the seed of doubt grew any larger, I overheard an Hasidic man talking on his cell phone. “Why not?” he asked in a sing-songy tone, and I took that as sign.

My festival – the world’s biggest block party – was going to be in Williamsburg  with the Knitting Factory. Now all I had to do was convince the Knitting Factory.