Tuesday, May 20, 2025

age of engagement

 



The David Perell interview: How to resonate in the “age of engagement”

You no longer need an army of followers to stand out as a writer — “one great piece is all it takes,” says Perell.

 
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David Perell

This essay is an installment of The Long Game, a Big Think Business column focused on the philosophy and practice of long-term thinking by Eric Markowitz, a partner at Nightview Capital. Subscribe to his weekly newsletter, The Nightcrawler, here.

David Perell has a way of making the internet feel small in the best possible sense. A gifted writer and even better connector, he’s built a career not just on publishing great ideas — but on knowing how to share them in a way that actually lands. His work lives at the intersection of writing, community-building, and long-term thinking.

What makes Perell stand out is that he doesn’t chase the typical metrics. He’s not particularly interested in how often you post or how many followers you have. What he really cares about is engagement. Real connection. Resonance. That’s the thing, he argues, that compounds over time.

In this conversation, we talk about how writing has changed — and what it takes to stand out now. Perell explains why we’re moving beyond the “age of distribution” (where winning meant getting your content seen) into something more meaningful: an “age of engagement,” where the real currency is trust and attention from the right people, not just more people.

He shares stories, frameworks, and lessons from teaching thousands of writers, and talks about why writing online is still the most powerful way to build a network. Our discussion explores the ways “going viral” has evolved, as Perell takes a deeper look at how to create things that last — and why being useful, honest, and human is the best long-term strategy there is.

If you’re a writer, thinker, founder, or just curious about where the internet’s heading, this one’s for you.

Eric Markowitz: What made you interested in writing?

David Perell: I’m not even sure it’s writing itself that I’m most interested in. Writing became the prism. It’s how I started understanding the world — and how the world started understanding me. Back in college, I had no clear career path. But I started noticing that people who were writing online, especially on Twitter, were getting all these incredible opportunities. They were meeting interesting people, building communities. So I jumped in.

At first, I was just trying to publish and see what would happen. But quickly, writing turned into a way to clarify my own thinking, and more importantly, to transmit ideas. I started calling it a “serendipity vehicle.” You put out a signal, and it’s as if thousands of little minions, who work 24/7, carry your ideas to people who think like you and are interested in the same things you are. It’s this powerful matching engine.

Eventually people began asking, “Can you teach me how to write?” So I leaned into that, branded myself as The Writing Guy. But really, zooming out, what I care about is helping people crystallize ideas and share them in ways that resonate and attract like-minded people. That’s where the real value is.

Eric Markowitz: You’ve described writing as a way to build a network. That’s an under-appreciated idea. Can you go deeper?

David Perell: Totally. I read something that stuck with me: as we grow older, it gets harder to meet people who truly resonate with us. That’s just how life works — unless you’re publishing ideas.

The people who put their stories and expertise out there unlock an entirely different game. What you’re really doing is tapping a tuning fork. You send out a narrow frequency, and the internet delivers it to the people most likely to resonate. People decry social media algorithms, but the internet’s ability to match people is one of the modern world’s greatest gifts.

I’ve seen it play out countless times. One story that stands out: I started following this anonymous Twitter account called The Cultural Tutor. He was posting these threads on history and art, and I thought — who is this? I DM’d him. Turns out he was a 24-year-old living with his parents, working at McDonald’s. He’d written a few unpublished novels, read obsessively his whole life, and finally started writing publicly because his friends pushed him to do it.

Polish isn’t persuasive anymore. The best creators admit mistakes. They let people in.

I said, “What would it take for you to do this full-time?” He said, “£30,000 a year.” I had some investor backing at the time, so I offered to fund him. Just one thread a day. And he did — every day for over 500 days. Now he’s got 1.7 million followers, a Penguin Random House book deal, and we’re talking about making a documentary together. All because he had a repository of interesting ideas, which he found the courage to publish instead of keeping them to himself.

Eric Markowitz: For most of history, the hard parts of writing were creation and distribution. But now, with AI, creation is easier than ever.

David Perell: Absolutely. I taught writing for six years, and fear of imperfection was always the big hurdle. But with AI, that fear is greatly reduced. At worst, your writing sounds generic — but it’s not going to be full of typos. Just by using the tools thoughtfully, almost anyone can be a 7 out of 10 writer now.

That said, AI isn’t a panacea. It won’t give you great ideas. You still have to bring the originality, the lived experience. But it’s an incredible tool to help refine, poke holes, reframe. I use it to stress-test my thinking, generate analogies, or even rewrite something in the style of a comedian like Theo Von — just to see it differently.

Still, the real power comes from the person. You need: one, some baseline writing ability (which AI can now help with); two, original thoughts or stories; and three, the courage to put it out there. That last one is still the biggest hurdle for people.

Eric Markowitz: You’ve talked about separating signal from noise. How do you create writing that actually resonates?

David Perell: I always return to two things: personality and perspective. Do you sound like a real person? Are you sharing something that isn’t just consensus? One interesting trick: AI is great at detecting consensus. If ChatGPT agrees with you, that might mean your take is already mainstream. But if it resists — if it won’t validate your idea — that could be a sign you’re onto something original. The real signal is often what AI doesn’t recognize as obvious.

Eric Markowitz: I think more and more companies are realizing they need to act like media companies.

David Perell: Completely. I think more and more companies are realizing they need to fill the vacuum left by legacy media. Meanwhile, individuals and companies are building in-house content machines. They’re telling their stories directly—and often more compellingly—than legacy press ever did.

Even politics is following this shift. Look at the last few election cycles. Politicians who embrace podcasts and long-form interviews are building real trust. It reminds me of FDR’s fireside chats — intimate, unfiltered, human. People have learned to see through teleprompter speeches. They want to see “the real you.” The less polished version that only your friends used to see.

Eric Markowitz: So much of this comes down to trust. You can’t fake it.

David Perell: Exactly. People now see that not all that glitters is gold. Polish isn’t persuasive anymore. The best creators admit mistakes. They let people in. And no, this isn’t about trauma dumping in public, but people do want to feel like they know you. This is one reason why big brand campaigns don’t work like they used to.

Now that every major social media platform has become more like TikTok, the best ideas can spread farther, even from relatively unknown people.

Eric Markowitz: What about format? Are you more focused on long-form or short-form content?

David Perell: Both. I love [investor] Balaji Srinivasan’s line: “The internet increases variance.” You get more long-form and more short-form now. Colin and Samir introduced a concept I love called “memorable views.” Forget raw impressions. What matters is creating something so valuable that someone remembers it, builds a relationship with it, and maybe even with you. That’s leverage.

Eric Markowitz: Let’s talk consistency. You’ve said we’ve shifted from an “age of distribution” to an “age of engagement.” What does that mean?

David Perell: The age of distribution was about getting your work seen. You’d post on social, drive people to a newsletter. Audience growth was slow but sticky, like the revenues of a SaaS company. Consistency was everything. Publish three times a week, grow your list, build over time.

But now? We’re in the age of engagement. If you publish something that pops, it doesn’t matter if you have 100 or 100,000 followers. The algorithm will push it. Even tiny accounts can get millions of impressions because reach is decreasingly about how many followers you have and increasingly about how much people are engaging with what you’ve shared.

Ten years ago, I would’ve taken A+ consistency with B content. But now I’d take A+ content with B consistency.

Eric Markowitz: So you’re optimizing for spikes, not just consistency?

David Perell: If you want to reach top people, it’s all about quality. One of my favorite examples is Leopold Aschenbrenner. He was relatively unknown in the public space, then he wrote an [extended] essay on AI and “situational awareness.” Within 24 hours, every major thinker in Silicon Valley was talking about it. One great piece is all it takes. That’s the age of engagement.

Eric Markowitz: Final question. Is the age of engagement only happening on X, or has it come for other platforms too?

David Perell: TikTok was first, actually. I call its algorithm the NFL RedZone of social media, where the algorithm got way less predictable because of its focus on highlights. People like to bash the algorithms, but their revealed preferences tell a different story. Now that every major social media platform has become more like TikTok, the best ideas can spread farther now, even from relatively unknown people. That’s why you hear so many stories about how some rando teenager in the middle of South Dakota gets famous on TikTok before their parents even know they have a TikTok account.

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12 art fairs in 74 hours

 

Jorge N. Cardoso <jorgenuno.cardoso@gmail.com>

12 art fairs in 74 hours is an out-of-body experience

Tim Schneider from The Gray Market <thegraymarket@substack.com>16 de maio de 2025 às 12:27
Responder a: Tim Schneider from The Gray Market <reply+2pgeda&jsjl&&7bd02148d64f5c93f01fe9732aa2aea699f559bdcc68306a14aab20248124eaf@mg1.substack.com>
Para: jorgenuno.cardoso@gmail.com
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The Gray Market is a twice-weekly newsletter mapping the forces shaping the business of contemporary art, from inside and out. If you like this post, consider forwarding it to someone else who might too—or upgrade to a paid subscription for full access. And for inquiries about my consulting work, advertising on TGM, or any other comments/questions, email me here: tim@thegraymarket.xyz.


12 art fairs in 74 hours is an out-of-body experience

And other lessons from surrendering myself to the art-fair industrial complex

 
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Let me start here: I am never doing this again. Ever.¹

Practically everyone working in the art industry believes the proliferation of art fairs has gone berserk. But sometimes you don’t know how true something is until you experience it directly. It’s the difference between, on one hand, reading in a biology textbook about why it’s dangerous to raise a lion cub in your home and, on the other hand, listening to some mangled maniac who actually tried to do it tell you about the day it finally went wrong with young Simba.

Well, today I am that maniac, in one extremely niche context.

Although New York’s May art calendar swelled to unsustainable proportions years ago, last week marked the first time when so many of the city’s spring art fairs opened in one gonzo week instead of spacing themselves out across two. Many art pros (myself included) had long argued it made more sense to cluster them all together before the big spring auctions hit. Otherwise, most out-of-towners would probably only pick one week or the other to travel in, limiting everyone’s opportunities. Even for locals, it was hard to hype yourself up enough to do back-to-back art-fair shuffles. So why not synergize everything?

That sounds great in theory. But in practice, maybe opening so many art fairs in the same week just concentrates the number of hard choices that need to be made by buyers, sellers, professionals, and die-hards about how to spend their time (and money). Stacking everything up might solve the problem of when in May the non-New York art pros and collectors should come to the Empire City, but it can’t change the finite number of hours in each day, and it probably won’t increase a person’s daily or weekly capacity to process art and networking interactions before their brain goes smooth and blank, either.

There was only one way to find out for sure, though, and that was for one ambitious idiot to try to barrel through every single fair in the few days before they closed.

Ultimately, two main questions drove this experiment: How hard would it be on a pure logistical level for a person (me) to even get to 12 fairs in the same week without completely abandoning everything else in their life? And if they (I) could pull off the practical elements, how long would it take before the experience transitioned from being an avenue of discovery to being a ruthless, joyless endurance test?

Here are the answers.² Welcome to the Gray Market’s first—and last—New York Spring Art Fair Mukbang.³

Day One: Tuesday, May 6

Two fairs on the opening day’s itinerary…

1. Spring/Break Art Show

What is it?

There are a few key differences between Spring/Break and most fairs: its founders and directors, Andrew Gori and Ambre Kelly, are artists; it sets up shop in vacant spaces that aren’t usually used for cultural events; and it is often independent curators and artists, not dealers, who are showcasing and selling the work inside. As a result, Spring/Break is one of the loosest and quirkiest events in the fair sector, and it’s developed a cult following among no-bullshit art people because of that.

Where was it?

A former office space in an upper story of a Soho commercial high rise.

Exhibitor count?

100+

2. Fridge Art Fair

What is it?

Another fair where the artists man the booths and interface directly with potential buyers rather than relying on dealers to do the dirty work. The name parodies Frieze, which Fridge has run concurrent with in New York since 2013. It also imposes a tangible limit: every artwork here is supposed to be able to fit inside a refrigerator. If you’re wondering about the vibe, the sizable amount of pet-based content is positioned as a virtue, not a sin.

Where was it?

The lobby and basement of the Hotel Alameda in Chelsea.

Exhibitor count?

31+

How you feeling today, T?

I felt confident at Spring Break. It’s while walking to Fridge that a low-grade panic starts rising.

It occurs to me on a visceral, bodily level that the way I’ve made it through every other major art fair week of my professional life is by being super selective. But the problem with what I’m embracing instead this year isn’t just the scale. It’s also the fragility of the plan of attack.

The logistics that seemed manageable (barely, but still) the night before now seem absurd. For instance, the only way to make today’s schedule work was to cut bait on a fair with more than 100 exhibitors after about 90 minutes—so, less than one minute per exhibitor—so that we would still have time to tear ass further uptown and strafe another, much smaller fair before it closed. If we missed the latter, I might have to rejig not only the next day’s worth of events but quite possibly the rest of the week’s.

What’s more, this same time pressure applied to every other event on the docket for the next several days, too. One major train delay, one urgent work call, one maintenance issue at our apartment, and the whole project might collapse. As a stunt, it had potential. As a way to reasonably evaluate art, it was objectively stupid.

But since I already told a bunch of people I’m doing it anyway, there’s no way out but through….

What did we learn today?

Probably everyone reading this knows the truism that “there are many art worlds, not just one.” But what today’s slate of fairs underscored is that those different layers of prestige and social standing can almost literally sit on top of one another without ever intersecting.

The Hotel Alameda, Fridge’s venue, is only a few hundred feet away from several of the top-selling and most respected galleries in the world, and also almost directly beneath the High Line, the international ideal of a public art and culture project anchored by a rotating program of major public artworks by seriously ascendant and unquestionably canonical contemporary artists alike.

I saw at least a few people tangentially wrapped up in that milieu (including some friends) at Spring/Break, which came as no surprise. But I knew going in to Fridge that there was a 0.0% chance anyone from that set would be there, just like I wouldn’t normally have been either. And yet, we all probably literally walked past the event multiple times a day without a second thought. Never the twain shall meet and all that, I guess…

Day Two: Wednesday, May 7

Four fairs on today’s itinerary…

3. Esther II

What is it?

An upstart event launched in 2024 by the dealers Margot Samel (of her namesake Tribeca gallery) and Olga Temnikova (of Temnikova & Kasela Gallery in Tallinn, Estonia). Esther’s compact group of rising exhibitors installs their work in an as-is Beaux-Arts townhouse, often with no separators to indicate what was brought by whom. It feels more like a smart, admirably improvisatory group show than a fair per se. The entire operation is also subsidized by the Estonian government (Samel and Temnikova have Estonian heritage), meaning participating dealers paid a flat fee of $2,500 each—basically a rounding error on the bill the exhibitors get from high-end fairs.

Where was it?

The Estonian House in Murray Hill, making it quite possibly the only good reason to come to this neighborhood unless you’re a first-year analyst at an investment bank in need of housing.

Exhibitor count?

25

4. Frieze New York

What is it?

The Empire City branch of one of the two top art fair brands out there, along with one of the only two fairs of the week where you’ll find art-market heavyweights like GagosianDavid ZwirnerHauser & Wither, et al. Whether this qualifies as a pro or a con is a matter of personal taste.

Where was it?

The Shed in Hudson Yards, a venue I will defend forever partly because it has the most luxurious free restrooms you’re going to find in this part of town.

Exhibitor count?

67

5. Future Fair

What is it?

A collaborative expo for emerging galleries that launched behind a unique profit-sharing model in 2020. It has since iterated to include a fund that channels 15% of the fair’s profits into grants for dealers to take part in upcoming editions of the fair; dealers can opt to contribute a share of their profits from sales as well.

Where was it?

Chelsea Industrial in Chelsea (duh), a short walk for anyone except some sleep-deprived jackass trying to do 12 fairs in four days (I went to the wrong block and had to double back lol)

Exhibitor count?

67

6. Conductor

What is it?

A fair whose first official edition will open in May 2026, with the mandate to champion artists and galleries from what the organizers are calling “the global majority” (meaning AfricaLatin America, the CaribbeanSouth and Southeast Asia, the Middle EastOceania, and Indigenous populations worldwide). This year’s event was a soft launch / proof of concept.

Where was it?

The Powerhouse Arts complex in lovely, fragrant Gowanus, Brooklyn 

Exhibitor count?

16

How you feeling today, T?

On the crosstown bus from Esther to Frieze, I watch in horror as a perfectly mobile middle-aged woman thoughtlessly barrels into the heavily braced leg of an elderly man sitting near the driver. As he cries out and clutches his shin, the woman who hit him doesn’t apologize. Instead, she starts scolding him: “You should use the subway! Or have you heard of mobile care? You just call them and they’ll pick you up and drive you places! Why are you on this bus?”

It suddenly hits me that this exchange is a way-too-real metaphor for my week: the indignant woman is my commitment to this dumb expedition no one asked me to embark on, and the old man is my quality of life until it’s over.

Case in point, here’s all that I managed to eat or drink between waking up at 7:30am and getting back to our apartment around 9pm:

  • ½ cup of black tea

  • 1 matcha latte with pistachio milk

  • 1 turkey sandwich with lettuce, tomato, and mayo at the Shed

  • 1 margarita at the Dobel Tequila Lounge at the Shed

  • 2 French fries (yes, literally two) at Porchlight Tavern, an atrocious gastropub Danny Meyer should be ashamed of creating

  • Two crackers and a slice of sopressata from Conductor’s complimentary snack pack (aka “grazing box”), which was a legit godsend and would definitely be brought back for the real deal next year if I had any sway

What did we learn today?

When you’re walking through one sizable art fair, you’ll inevitably encounter dozens and dozens of artists iterating on similar styles or templates with varying levels of skill or ingenuity: faux-naive sculpture, 21st century quasi-Surrealism, new queer portraiture… the list goes on. For any given type, the gap between the most successful examples in the convention center and the least successful examples in the convention center feels enormous.

But my art fair blitz was a reminder that the same process of iterating on the same dominant themes is also happening among thousands and thousands more artists outside the rarefied air of top art expos and galleries—only everywhere else, the distance between the most and least successful versions is so cosmic in scale that it makes everything at the big fairs seem within inches of each other.

In other words, It’s (mostly) not a matter of the less heralded tiers of the market thinking it’s viable to paint tourist-trap seascapes when they should be making memoiristic found-object collages about trauma. It’s that, because both the in-group and the out-group are working with such similar concepts and visuals, it becomes so much more apparent who’s really doing something distinctive with the inputs and who isn’t.

Anything else?

I overheard this, my favorite piece of random conversation, delivered with complete sincerity at Frieze: “Interesting, have you ever tried examining your dreams with a therapist before?”

Day Three: Thursday, May 8

Two fairs on today’s itinerary…

7. Independent

What is it?

An invitation-only fair premised on contextualizing a range of galleries and artists into a coherent presentation, with a special interest in serving as the New York debut for many of them. Counterintuitively, it’s around one-third larger by exhibitor total than Frieze New York, whose Gotham event is limited by the Shed’s capacity.

Where was it?

Multiple floors of Spring Studios in Tribeca, mercifully close to both my main train line and a Sunrise Mart I can duck out to for lunch.

Exhibitor count?

85

8. 1-54 New York

What is it?

An expo designed to advance the contemporary art of Africa and its diaspora. (The name is an allusion to Africa, its scale, and its importance: one continent, 54 countries.) That said, the participating galleries hail from around the globe to provide a cross-section of diasporic perspectives.

Where was it?

The Halo in the Financial District, a building I otherwise knew only as the location of an Alamo Drafthouse buried so deep underground that I suspect it would suffice as a nuclear warhead shelter.

Exhibitor count?

30

How you feeling today, T?

Walking through the tunnel to the 7 train beneath Hudson Yards, I remember something in a William Gibson novel I read during the pandemic. After landing in London on a flight from New York, the narrator recounts a theory from someone that planes fly faster than the human soul can travel over long distances, meaning the twilight state you experience for the first day after an international flight comes from the fact that your body is basically functioning autonomously until your spirit manages to catch up with it.

All of which is a roundabout way of saying that this was the day when I decided I needed to include the following apology to the organizers of the six fairs I still had to see, along with all of the dealers and artists showing in them:

I’m sorry, everyone. I’ve hit the saturation point. I’m still going to events, and I’m still nominally seeing artwork. But I’m afraid I’m doing the viewing version of what I recently heard the economist Tyler Cowen say in response to an interviewer who asked him whether he’d read Heidegger’s Being and Time: I’ve looked at every page, but I’m not sure I’ve read it.

That doesn’t mean nothing interesting breaks through. It just gets harder and harder for that to happen.

And Jesus Christ, I was only halfway done…

What did we learn?

Some people are still talking about a ceramics trend, but actually the hottest material in the art world right now is stone. It’s everywhere! From Spring/Break to Frieze to Independent and beyond, it’s been unavoidable this week. We can theorize all day about why that might be (A foil to our increasingly digital lives? Ecologically motivated desire for reconnection to the earth? Neanderthal fetishism?), but if you own a quarry, you love to see the art world coming in 2025.

Day Four: Friday, May 9

The home stretch…

9. NADA New York

What is it?

The spring fair staged by the New Art Dealers Alliance (NADA), a nonprofit org for contemporary art that brings together galleries, nonprofit spaces, independent curators, gallery directors, and more. Emerging and (very) modestly sized galleries are the nucleus here, with the average exhibitor probably landing on a tier above their counterpart at Future Fair but below their counterpart at Independent.

Where was it?

The Starrett-Lehigh Building, also in Chelsea

Exhibitor count?

120

10. Clio Art Fair

What is it?

Another fair built around “self-represented” artists, aka those who double as their own salespeople. Although there aren’t booths per se, Clio did give its artists more space to work with than Fridge. The interior space is mostly concrete and hard surfaces that make me feel vaguely like the place might become a Fight Club after hours.

Where was it?

The ground floor of 520 West 24th Street in—you guessed it—Chelsea, a neighborhood where, in the nightmare I had early Friday morning, every single mixed-use building contained an art fair I had to go to.

Exhibitor count?

35+

11. TEFAF New York

What is it?

The stateside expo put together by The European Fine Art Foundation (TEFAF), whose flagship fair in Maastricht has earned its reputation as the most upper-crust and connoisseurial of all, partly owing to the hardcore vetting committee that works to ensure its exhibitors’ Old Master artworks, antiquities, and vintage design objects are all 100% authentic and ethically sourced. Unlike the Dutch original, however, TEFAF New York is first and foremost a platform for Modern and contemporary works of art and design. But it still hosts some dealers of antiquities and other old, expensive stuff alongside the international blue-chip galleries.

Where was it?

The Park Avenue Armory on the Upper East Side. The plush carpeted floors, array of fine upholstered furniture, and library-level quiet inside felt like entrapment when the urge to lie down and sleep on the nearest flat surface became almost unbearable.

Exhibitor count?

91

12. The Other Art Fair

What is it?

Aside from my personal finish line in a self-created Hell, it’s the last, largest, and seemingly best-funded of the week’s fairs where artists sell direct to buyers. (The Other Art Fair is affiliated with the online art sales and discovery platform Saatchi Art.) The event aims to be as much a hangout as an approachable venue for commerce, with an ongoing program of DJ sets, art workshops, and game-ified bonus activities. It is also the only fair of the week where you can get a tattoo.

Where was it?

ZeroSpace, a warehouse and events venue on the Gowanus / Flatbush border

Exhibitor count?

125

How you feeling at the end, T? And what did we learn?

Let’s hear it from me the moment I got home…

Final metrics

  • Fairs visited: 12

  • Time elapsed: 74 hours

  • Exhibitors viewed: 794+

  • Steps taken: 46,771

  • Miles walked: 17.9

  • Flights of stairs climbed: 57

  • Regrets: 1,000,000

  • Supercut of the experience: under 3 minutes

1

No one else should, either. If you or anyone you know ever begins seriously considering it, message me and I will respond like the person in question just caught on fire or got their arm trapped beneath a boulder during a hiking trip. It’s that bad.

2

Incalculable thanks and a silver medal in the endurance challenge to my unbelievable wife, Cabelle Ahn, who not only supported me emotionally and culinarily throughout this process but also made all the video content AND saw ten(!) of the 12 fairs herself—more than anyone else besides me, as far as I know.

3

For the well-adjusted, mukbang (“eating broadcast”) is the term for a type of video content in which someone—often a thin, conventionally attractive woman or man—gorges themselves on an unholy amount of food while interacting with their audience throughout. The format originated in South Korea around 2010 and has since gone global.

4

“More than 100 curatorial exhibitions, special projects, and our new section, Artist Spotlight” is the way it’s defined on Spring/Break’s website, maybe in part because the founders said they were still adding people right up to the opening.

5

The Fridge website lists 31 individual artists on its page plus the cliffhanger “and more…”

6

I’m not hating, I got married in this neighborhood—in an open-air venue, no less—and I wouldn’t have changed a thing!

7

For the record, this was not directed at me.

8

Clio also put on two editions in consecutive weeks, each with a somewhat different lineup of artists and performances. I saw the second week.

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