The first night I spent in New York City was inside a darkened Penn Station during the blackout of 1977. I had just scored a cheap apartment on the Lower East Side and was excited about returning a few weeks later to attend Cooper Union, but as I boarded my train, the lights went out, and arsonists and looters rampaged through much of the city. It was one of the lowest moments in New York history. But while middle-class whites were fleeing the city, artists like me were arriving, undeterred…