I was taking pictures on the Union St. bridge when I heard a strange blend of melodicas, clarinets, kazoos and keyboards approaching. I turned to my left and saw Marc Ribot, guitar slung on his back, leading a motley parade of 15-20 musicians. They stopped on the bridge, where Ribot conducted them in one of 12 figures he'd composed for the occasion: a sort of jazz/minimalist riff, punctuated with extended silences filled in by the sounds of our surroundings: a passing car, water falling down a sewer grate. We wound our way down past the old Issue silo on Carroll Street, eventually winding up in a massive ruined warehouse where the demolished roof sat along the perimeter in piles of rubble. There, Ribot led us in a soft, final figure called: "All art spaces are free if you don't pay for them." With the open sky and the F train rumbling past in the distance, it felt like a blessing and a stark warning, all at once. (More pics below.)

Wonderful, wonderful. Beauty everywhere, eh? Kinda makes you start to think that the Buddhists are on to something…
Wonderful, wonderful. Beauty everywhere, eh? Kinda makes you start to think that the Buddhists are on to something…
Wonderful, wonderful. Beauty everywhere, eh? Kinda makes you start to think that the Buddhists are on to something…
Wonderful, wonderful. Beauty everywhere, eh? Kinda makes you start to think that the Buddhists are on to something…
Wonderful, wonderful. Beauty everywhere, eh? Kinda makes you start to think that the Buddhists are on to something…
Wonderful, wonderful. Beauty everywhere, eh? Kinda makes you start to think that the Buddhists are on to something…