Few spots feel as true to New York’s art scene as Blankmag Books. Cozied beneath a technicolored glass awning, the subterranean store announces itself modestly overhead — “books and souvenirs” — though this is largely a loose, humble description of what’s inside.

Print shops, like many good things in life, tend to reveal themselves incidentally. You wander without a title in mind, happening upon one while out buying a gift for a friend, or making a pitstop on the way to your next destination. I stumbled upon Blankmag during a lunch break shortly after its opening last summer. It was one of those reminders that entire worlds can open up to you when you take a chance on curiosity, even if just for a few minutes.

Blankmag Books is the latest entrant in the city’s new-old wave of bookstores. Originally founded in Japan, the store and publisher sets itself apart with its ardent eye for New York street culture, particularly from the mid-90s through the early aughts. Its print offerings — small batch editions, retro magazines, monographs and zines — are plentiful, and the store also carries an expansive range of ephemera, apparel and artworks. Jun Ohki, the artist and filmmaker behind the one-man operation, welcomes me warmly into his countercultural cabinet of curios.

“Everything here, in this store, is important for New York.”

Heavy on titles by Larry Clark, Dash Snow and Ari Marcopoulos, the store anchors itself in grit. Also seen throughout the space are books by contemporary image-makers — Lucien Smith, Grace Ahlbom, Marika Thunder — many of which are based only a walking distance away. The selection collapses championing downtown voices of the past and present into an ever-growing cast. “Everything here, in this store, is important for New York,” Ohki says.

Since launching in 2012, Blankmag has built a devoted following among fashion lovers and art literatis alike, a reputation underscored by its curatorial role at Dover Street Market Ginza. With its focus fixed on such a particular chapter of New York culture, it was only a matter of time before they opened stateside storefront, and Ohki, a longtime collaborator on the publishing front, was a natural fit for the role.

“This is my way of doing something valuable for the community that gave so much to me.”

He describes his role less as a manager than facilitator — a “superintendent” in his own words — for a space that’s less store than community library. Blankmag reflects his 16-year presence in the neighborhood, shaped in part by his Know Wave presence. “This is my way of doing something valuable for the community that gave so much to me.”

Teasing through Blankmag’s collection rewards a curious mind. There’s Every Pill I Took, Michael Lorenzini’s bestiary of ecstasy tablet designs, or a zine of teenage couple Chloe Sevigny and Harmony Korine before their ascents into fame, shot by Kevin Hatt. Other standouts include I Love You, Stupid by Dash Snow, Arthur Jafa’s latest monograph, Live Evil, or a handmade board book about an eponymous, Citi Bike-riding Simp.

I ask Ohki about his favorite book at the moment, perhaps an unfair prompt in a room like this. He gestures to a weighty volume on display behind him: Blankmag Books, the shop’s self-titled “book of books,” described to me as a 200-piece compilation of the founder’s vast, private collection, a kind of matryoshka for rare editions and print ephemera fanatics.

As with its overseas counterpart, the New York location extends beyond retail and into publishing with a host of print and lifestyle editions developed with its global network of artists. Andrew Kass’ One Square Foot is one of the more recent publications, alongside a Japanese edition of Larry Clark’s cult Kids photo book, Not Losing You by underground image-maker Udai and an ongoing series of collaborative zines.

To do this, Ohki’s been tapping into his own relationship with the city. Having touched down in New York as a child, he recalls the 1990s as a golden era of culture defined by physical presence and a word-of-mouth who’s who. The now-shuttered XLARGE store, for example, which once sat across from Tompkins Square Park, embodied this formative, albeit fleeting, energy. “For me, those experiences were very special because those places only lasted a short time,” he explains. “There were all these very cool things then — boom — they’re gone. You just had to be there.”

Against the speed of our screen-fed moment, spaces like Blankmag set their own cadence. Nostalgia is a powerful tool, and while the store highlights print’s enduring role in archiving visual matter, it also underscores its integrity as artistic infrastructure; however potent or tactile it is is up to us.

Moving through Blankmag, you’re more than encountering the city’s creative past, but recognizing its intimacy to the present. After happening upon a rare international edition of a fan favorite, you’ll be floored by the creative capacity of the photographer, the writer, the cook just blocks away.

The same holds for its rotating slate of art exhibitions, pop ups and book launches. El Cucuy, a group exhibition and curated book collection by Pedro Duran’s Hasta Siempre Books and CDMX publisher Alien Libros, flanks one side of the store during my visit. Past in-store presentations include Pop Gun’s sensational all-Minion art show, and Apple Stand, Olivia Rose’s display of hand-carved red delicious apples. In the back, an array of Supreme sticker paintings by Greg Simmons, a local painter and skater, are on display and up for grabs.

“Community is very important because that’s where it all starts. You need that in the book world, the art world, in any world in this culture.”

Though Ohki curates the program, the process has been largely osmotic. “I don’t have to search for something cool,” he explains. “It just fell onto me. It spreads its own branches – this person brings on a friend, who brings on another, who recommends another.”

Still under a year old, Blankmag has made a fitting home for itself. It’s become a favorite among seasoned collectors, while still leaving room for chance encounters and first-timers to find their footing, encouraging discovery every step of the way. “The people and networks coming through are ageless,” he expresses. “We’re all living in the same generation and share the same information. I’m glad I opened this spot because it bridges those networks of people.”

For Ohki, the project always circles back to community, and his credo is simple: stay true to your people, or else it’ll come at the cost of taste and culture.“Community is very important because that’s where it all starts,” he says. “You need that in the book world, the art world, in any world in this culture.”

Photography by Brian Nguyen.