Ramiken

We love the Lower East Side’s punk history that still seeps, shimmering and stubborn, into corners of the neighborhood today. This renegade spirit is alive and well at Ramiken. Untamed and sublime.

Irreverence bleeds into canvases and sculptures, which can be raw and violent, but also pure and honest. The artworks displayed range from haunting creatures made from luminous glass to domestic scenes rendered in irradiated colors, and include recycled rifles shaped into spiky, stick-like humanoids. Everything feels like it's born of decay and care.

All of this edginess is softened by an exquisiteness that makes it impossible to look away. That is the punk ethos, in many ways. Strip away all the brutality and coarseness, and what lies beneath is emotion that plugs us into a wild, full-feeling of being human.

Mike Egan started Ramiken in a rat-infested basement on Clinton Street. It quickly became known for its wild parties. He called the gallery Ramiken Crucible, a pseudonym he used to sign his own artworks anonymously. Now, it’s simply Ramiken, which is an intentional misspelling of ramekin, the baking dish used to custard and burnt sugar into crème brulée. Now, the gallery is located on Grand Street, where Egan installed one-way mirror windows to give the place the distinct aura of a police station.