Genna Rivieccio exudes the sort of infantile sophistication potent enough to either make you cringe or worship her. She is satire, delivering her greatest displays of what may or may not be performance art after a “drank” or eight.
Nicole Benson’s heart is shaped like Florida and she can speak sign language. What the fuck can you do? By day, she’s an ordinary New Yorker, just making ends meet, but by night, she’s more in touch with the bars of Bushwick than most people are with their own bodies. And she’s also probably slept on your couch.
Together, this duo has formed to bring you a snapshot of all things Bushwickian, no matter how ridiculous or skewed.
The only time anyone has ever acknowledged The Burning Bush’s existence in “the press” apart from those who have murderous feelings toward us and/or tell us we’re too white to have an “educated” opinion on the matter of Bushwick’s parody-worthy evolution has been on Bedford and Bowery by Daniel Maurer, possibly the last man in New York with a sense of humor. If you know of someone else who wants to acknowledge The Burning Bush’s existence, please let us know. We hear fame gets you out of working. But with our luck, it will probably just result in the kind of notoriety that leads to a Carrie/pig’s blood situation.
Here’s what most other people are saying about us: