Two years ago, the day before my wedding, my fiancé and I walked through Washington Square Park in New York City to enjoy a coffee before addressing the final details. Passing the chess players and the very un-squeamish squirrel trainer, we stepped into an extremely large chalk-drawn circle.
I don’t remember the color, but the writing became clear as we approached the midpoint. Smack in the center, beneath our feet read the words “Bad Luck Spot.” We caught each other’s eyes, looking for fear in the reflection. Our ceremony, reception and future couldn’t be hexed by voodoo, could it? “No” — we laughed it off. We trusted in our commitment to each other, denounced the devil’s own luck, and cried, “Not today, Felix!”
If you live in a New York borough, you may be familiar with artist Felix Morelo’s Spots. He draws both Good Luck Spots and Bad Luck Spots, in addition to Kissing Spots, Screaming Spots, Pooping Spots, and sometimes the more controversial Fucking Spots and Racist Spots. We were familiar with his drawings and had previously walked through the positive spots with purpose and avoided the bad ones.
Our heads in the clouds on that day, we did not dodge this particular circle and found ourselves two hours later suddenly without a wedding venue. We arrived at a West Village carriage house — the address of which had been embossed on 75 or so of our invitations — with the intent to pre-set arrangements and our welcome table.
Our shopping bags cut deep into the divots of our fingers, filled over with table settings, Jordan almonds, and an Etsy-made wooden replica of the venue, when a stranger met us at the door. He barely braced us for impact when he explained the locks to the building had been changed. His ex-wife was keeping us barred from entry unless he surrendered additional assets in the divorce settlement. Our wedding was held hostage.
If we are superstitious about anything, it is Felix Morelo’s Bad Luck Spots.
Courtesy of Jamiee Kosanke-Martello
We got married. At another venue. And we never saw the owner of the original venue — or her ex — again. But I was magnetized to Felix’s work, and I’d often wonder how he would react to our chalk-drawn circumstances.
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