Free-Cyclin

‘If it’s not tied down, take it.’ With those words, a store operating under the radar in Brooklyn is changing the way people look at commerce, ownership, and interpersonal exchange. On the internet, a grassroots network called Freecycle is making it easier than ever for people to give things away, no strings attached. Is an emerging ‘free’ market carving out its own niche beside mainstream consumer culture? Are young people helping to lead the way?

Located in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, the Free Store is a colorful spot in an already vibrant neighborhood. The storefront has been artfully stenciled with bright colors, bidding visitors welcome, while a disclaimer posted on the door informs patrons that they enter this peculiar marketplace at their own risk.

Just inside, a bulletin board announces opportunity for communal gatherings of all sorts: bike repair workshops, food co-ops, music circles, startup communes. In the entrance to the space, a boldly lettered sign lays down the first rule to the Free Store: “If it’s not tied down, take it! If it is tied down, don’t take it!”

The space is filled with free goods that have been dropped off by locals. Chairs, couches, and bookshelves filled with books and kitchenware line the walls. Bins overflow with free clothes, and I notice two computer printers (circa 1998) sitting by the window. I look around for what’s tied down – an old cassette player in one corner of the space, an acoustic guitar in the opposite corner, and two worn guestbooks by the door that visitors have filled with scribbles.

‘The only person crazy enough to do it’

Jessica Baldwin is the facilitator of the Free Store. A 31-year-old artist, self-described “amateur social scientist,” and mother of one, she is an unlikely proprietor. “I’m an artist, but I’m not a very good salesperson,” she says. Baldwin spent four and a half years renting and living in the storefront on Grand Street, but the space offered no privacy, and by 2001 she was searching for another use for the space. It was then that a friend planted the idea in her head. “He said, ‘why don’t you open a free store, ha ha!’” Baldwin adds. “But he knew he was saying it to the only person crazy enough to do it. As soon as he said it, I knew that’s what I was going to do.” She now sublets part of the space to artists and that pays for the rent on the store.

In early fall 2001, the Free Store opened its doors. Anyone was welcome to drop things off or pick things up, and since the store was meant to be free in every sense of the word, it was often left unattended. “It really fit right in with my Sagittarian curiosity about how people function,” Baldwin says. “It’s an open offer for people, and they can use it either to their own advantage or in ways they think will help the store.”

When the Free Store reopened most recently in October 2004, Baldwin was approached by a group of local youth between 18 and 23 who offered to share some of the responsibilities. They redecorated the interior and put up literature in the store, and now they too open and close the store and keep it stocked with snacks. Baldwin says the “new kids on the block” have radically altered the Free Store for the better. “None of it’s pre-arranged. They’ve been great, they’ve been cleaning it a lot, and having events there,” she says. “Nobody told them to do it, they just did it.”

Now more than ever, Baldwin says, the Free Store is able to serve as an autonomous zone for free human interaction. “We live in a world of insurance liability, of almost degrading instructions on how to live our lives,” she says. “I wanted to create a space where people actually think before they act. That has always been its real intention.”