Anastasia Coope’s warped folk curios

thefader.com:

Anastasia Coope’s apartment is hard to find. In a city where most every building is sequentially numbered, street-facing, and explorable from one’s personal device, the Brooklyn collective/co-op where the 21-year-old experimental folk artist lives is a rare exception.

After locking my bike to a signpost further down her block’s steep incline, I struggle to find the address I’ve been given. Finally, I walk below a mossy power line into an overgrown cove of a driveway, where I’m greeted by Coope, a willowy figure in jeans and a plain white tee.

We climb a set of stairs and walk inside through a vestibule choked by unused bikes, paint cans, and other miscellanea — she points me to a plastic apple she’s particularly fond of.

We enter a spacious living room. Here, she ignites a candle and leads me down a hallway draped with dim Christmas lights. “We don’t have electricity,” she jokes.