Every NYC Artist Is Their Own Warhol Now
I keep meeting people who don't just perform in spaces. They are the space.
ISSUE 05 • FEDOR’S COLUMN • FEB 2026
Something I've Been Noticing
The last time was at BarChef New York. Vibe Cabrera asked me four questions about how I was feeling. Then he performed some magic moves: hands dancing over bottles, a splash of something amber, a twist of something I couldn’t name - and handed me a cocktail no one had ever tasted before.
Our conversation became a unique drink.
That’s not a bartending decision. That’s an artist decision.
A couple months ago I was at Dead Letter No. 9 in Williamsburg, standing in a room called Cargo, looking up at the disco ball. Michael Ryterband, one of the founders, told me he built it himself. Glued every single mirror piece by hand. God knows how long it took.
That disco ball just had to be right.
That’s not a decoration decision. That’s an artist decision.
And I keep watching Dig Ferreira paint masterpieces with a brush held in his mouth. If you haven’t read our piece about how he turned grief into art, it’s here. Every time I see him work, I think about what it means to refuse to stop creating - no matter what.
The Artists
True artists don’t just perform in spaces. They are the space. Every room they touch, every drink they build, every song they play, every canvas they hold - it all becomes an extension of who they are.
Amaury (KingKlave) has been in every music room in this city. NPR picked his debut album as one of their Staff Picks of 2022. He’s collaborated with Iggy Pop, Robert Glasper, Q-Tip. Who would know where to find the best live music better than someone who’s dedicated his life to playing it?
DJ Smurfo, our resident at Juicy Soul Discotheque - he’s played them all. His grandmother was Terry Pollard, a Detroit jazz legend inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. His father is Dennis “Menace” Weeden, a funk guitarist who helped shape the P-Funk sound alongside George Clinton and Bootsy Collins. Smurfo grew up with disco, funk, and soul not as a playlist - as the family dinner table. Who better to know what makes a dance floor come alive?
PJ Adzima spent three years on Broadway in The Book of Mormon, then decided that wasn’t enough. So he built Stage Time - a modern vaudeville variety show that throws Broadway performers, drag artists, burlesque dancers, stand-up comics, and circus acts into the same room. Then he built Stage Time Studios, an art space in Harlem. His philosophy: “All the most talented, interesting, amazing artists live here in New York. But they’re incredibly siloed.” Stage Time breaks down the walls.
First time I walked into Stage Time Studios, I had two thoughts: This is "the room where it happens" - and later that night I met a Hamilton original cast member.
And: This is what the Warhol Factory must have felt like back in the day...
Our 2026 NYC Factories
You know the Warhol Factory? It wasn’t famous because of what it produced. It was famous because of who was in the room. The gathering was the point. The art, the music, the nightlife... those were byproducts.
I think every one of these artists is their own Warhol. And every place they touch becomes its own Factory.
Dead Letter No. 9, Ciao Ciao Disco, Public Records, Tai Diner... each one curated with love by its artists. Each one a world that exists because someone felt something and couldn’t stop until the room felt it back.
Warhol had one door, envisioned by one person. This new version is distributed.
There are Factories all over New York City!
Small, intimate, run by artists who spent years (sometimes decades) perfecting their craft and their taste. And most people walk past them every day without knowing.
That’s the part I want to change.
The Juicy Invitation
I want to invite you to all of them.
Not as a spectator. As a participant. Because no one wants to just sit and eat popcorn anymore. Everyone wants to be included. Everyone wants to feel something. And I think the reason we feel it in these places is because the people who built them felt something first.
That’s what separates a Factory from a venue.
The venue is a business.
The Factory is a feeling someone couldn’t keep inside.
I’ll keep finding them. I’ll keep introducing you to the artists.
And if you know a spot in New York City that feels like someone’s Factory... a place that only exists because one person felt something and built a world around it... I want to hear about it.
Hit reply. DM me. We’ll go check it out together.
May all be juicy.
🍊 - Fedor
Juicy NYC is a map curated by artists and a community for connection-worthy experiences. We host IRL adventures, earn Juice Karma together, and create meaningful co-experiences across the city. 🍊
Explore the Juicy NYC map at juicy-nyc.com