The Littlefield Venue Carves Its Niche

Between the concrete buildings and empty streets that border the Gowanus Canal, Littlefield has carved out a cultural enclave. Since 2009, the art and performance space has been a home for musicians, performers and visual artists.

Co-owner Julie Kim, 34, is perched on her stool before a show. She runs her hands along the bar, made out of old bowling lanes she and her partner, Scott Koshnoodi, 36, salvaged from a bowling alley in Queens. The polished wood doesn't look like a retro artifact at first glance, but then, neither does Littlefield seem like a likely place for an art-space. As it turns out, that's just what the founders were going for.

Julie Kim and Scott Koshnoodi met ten years ago while attending college in Austin, Texas and the culture of music venues in Austin influenced the design of Littlefield.

"There are amazing bars in the industrial district of Austin," Kim said. "Lots of indoor-outdoor eco-friendly venues with small-batch, local beer. We kind of followed that model: to be something unexpected and well conceived."

The design of Littlefield is meticulous. From its salvaged materials to its selection of beer and sake and it's private courtyard seating, it's a divergence from the average Brooklyn venue. Being a step off the main drag only adds to Littlefield's uncommon atmosphere -- its isolated location makes it a destination location instead of just a venue. The eclectic events calendar ranges from reggae nights and rock shows to weddings and craft fairs. Performance groups like the Hot Tub comedy club appear here every month and local artist, Austin Dacey, has featured his Impossible Music Sessions at Littlefield since early 2010.

Impossible Music is an event as unique as Littlefield itself. In each session, Dacey hosts a video or voice chat with international musicians who are censored by their government. At a recent session, his guest was Lapiro de Mbanga, currently serving three years in Cameroon for his song that challenges the extension of presidential term limits in that country. He is the first Impossible Music guest to speak from prison.

It is 2 a.m. in Cameroon and de Mbanga is speaking in a whisper trying not to wake up the fifty other men in his cell. The audience at Littlefield is attentive, but the call drops out near the end and the focus shifts to the Boston-based Afro-pop band Lamine Toure and Group Saloum playing a cover of Mbanga's song. Dacey's sessions always close with a U.S. band playing a cover of the censored artist's music. When Group Saloum began, Littlefield transformed from a somber scene into a rolling dance party.

On a warmer night, Julie Kim would have opened up the front room and let the music drift out of the glass doors and into the street.  On these nights, events at Littlefield lure adventurous folks, curious about the lonely Gowanus side streets.

"We don't have hired P.R. to blast our events," Kim said. "It's mostly word-of-mouth. When someone comes in, sees the space and meets us, they usually come back."