For Waterside residents, all it takes is a quick (or, admittedly, sometimes not-so-quick) bus trip across town, and there you are, in the heart of one of the best, most important, most influential centers of contemporary art in the world, the Chelsea gallery district. Think about it: more than 300 galleries, showing some of the great artists of our time--plus hundreds and hundreds of less well-known artists... although, of course, sometimes deservedly so--right nearby, and it's all free. We try to get over there every six weeks or so, usually with no agenda, and spend a an hour or so popping in and out of places both big and hyped and small and hidden. We used to take our kids, too, even when they were still in strollers, because in Chelsea there's almost always enough big sculptural pieces or crazy installations to keep everyone happy. And in the summer there's a terrific playground and the whole waterfront right across 11th Avenue.  

Drew assembles bits of craggy trees and roots, splintery blocks and planks and plywood sheets--often charred, always rough-hewn--to create pieces that scan as aerial views of some sort of grim, post-apocalyptic landscape. At the same time--and this is the real genius as far as we're concerned--as dead and barren as Drew's work can seem, there's also a fierce energy at work here, and the bigger pieces can feel like some sort of sharp, horrifying wooden wave about to crash down on top of you.