Our iMovie project is centered around the New York City Subway. The subway is the great equalizer. Everyone takes it, from your local schoolteacher to businessman or nurse. It’s a necessary part of everyone’s New York experience, and thus a melting pot of both people and experiences. If one just takes a second to look around, you can notice a lot. Who just took a shower 10 minutes before getting onto the train; their hair still glossy wet. Who is off to work at a hospital, their scrubs on or in a bag. You notice those who are impatient, constantly checking their watch or shifting their weight from one foot to another. Sometimes you can get some silent fashion advice from those who put themselves together well. So much can be seen. But I’m not out to glorify the subway. It can be fantastically useful, even fun at times when a good performer comes on to the train. But often you just want to be alone, not crammed into your seat, or while standing, jostled around by the hundreds of people coming in and out of the train at every single stop. The smell of sweat when some asshole decided not to put on deodorant, and just keeps his arm raised the entire train ride. A performer steps on that really shouldn’t be performing anymore, their voice and musical skills are not quite there, and you end up listening to screeching strings through your morning headache. Or maybe you have one of those scary moments, where you’re alone in the train car at night, and some creepy guy comes on, and you can’t help but let your imagination run wild. All in all the subway is an urban space rich with experiences, one we take for granted, but is certainly there for us each day.

The 1996 production of Sam Shepard’s play, Buried Child, is certainly a shocking one.  The production reels in the audience, as it portrays a somewhat-realistic living room inside a house with a family.  The stage is set up with dim lighting and old, rundown furniture, as the setting of the production is in a poor, rural household in the 1970s.  This is evident through details; the couch is worn-out with cotton sticking out and the blanket on top has holes.  The play’s employment of realistic detail and intimate lighting really lures the audience in to a dark production.  While the setting of the play may seem grim, the themes and characters of the play are even darker.

The 1970s was a decade of recession in the United States, particularly affecting rural homes.  Clearly, this family was affected, as it seems to have low financial status and doesn’t take care of its home. The American Dream is a concept that in America, it is possible to achieve anything you want and make as much money as you’d like, as long as you work hard an maintain a strong work ethic.  One theme of the production was how this family gave up on this dream.  The play begins with Dodge and Halie literally screaming at each other from different rooms, though they are not fighting.  Halie is seen doing this all throughout the play.  She yells at every character (most of them her own children), yet presumes that the entire family is psychotic while she is the only sane one.  Dodge is then seen drinking from a flask that he attempts to hide.  It’s pretty clear that Dodge is an alcoholic and doesn’t do much besides sleep and sulk on his couch all day.  Within the first ten minutes of the play, the audience sees that the patriarch and matriarch of the family are mentally unwell and have constructed a fairly dysfunctional household.

Throughout the production it becomes more and more evident that this family has moved away from the traditional American family.  The father figure, Dodge, is not fulfilling his duties as patriarch; he sits and drinks and does not go out to provide for his family as the American Dream requires.  And, it’s inferred that Halie is having an affair with the local church reverend!  The traditional American family holds religious values; this family shatters these values.  It is even implied that Halie had an incestuous experience with Tilden, their son, which in turn produced Halie’s grandson/son.  Tilden (who also appears mentally unstable), seems to take care of Dodge, even though– in a traditional family– the father tends to care for the son.  Although he’s bullied by the family throughout the play, Tilden yearns for approval and love following the death of his son, whom Dodge murdered.  He brings in corn from the field, which Dodge claims was stolen since he hasn’t grown crops there for years– another sign that he doesn’t provide for the family.

Watching the production was far different from reading Shepard’s play, though the themes remain constant.  The detail such as the tattered cloths, furniture, and intimate lighting is something I wouldn’t paid attention to as I read the play.  Buried Child is both a shocking and depressing production, with dark twists and surprises in every scene.  It shows the downfall of the American Dream in a particular family, a theme best portrayed in a theater rather than on paper.

For my group’s project, we chose the African Burial Ground National Monument. It is often easy, in such a modern city, to forget the centuries of history that have passed through New York, shaping its public spaces, culture, and people. Oftentimes we look towards art, statues, and monuments to remember and memorialize the individuals, events, and places that have sculpted our collective past. The African Burial Ground National Monument is dynamic in that it not only attempts to preserve history, the site is one of a recovery of history – where black slaves and freemen were buried from the 17th to 18th centuries, relegated to forgotten soil until a construction project in 1991 uncovered the bodies which prompted the city to find a way to preserve the previously lost history. One particular aspect of the African Burial Ground National Monument that I found extremely fascinating was the inclusion of dozens of religious symbols on the walls of the monument, ringed by the burial sites. Although my image doesn’t do it justice, this includes symbols that are instantly recognizable to us such as the Cross or the Islamic crescent but also includes symbols from places as what is now modern-day Ghana, a former significant source of African slaves in the Atlantic Slave Trade. This was significant to me because it represented how colonialism and the experience of slavery painted the diverse African continent as a monolith, a source of labor and nothing else. This feature was touching in that it appeared to cut through the stereotyping of Africa, in respect of the massive diversity and differences in experiences of not just black slaves in American but the African-American experience throughout American history in general. One part of the experience that wasn’t part of the monument that truly made me appreciate the historical value of the monument wasn’t in the picture or part of the site itself, was that during our time examining the beautiful structure, a tour guide led a group of what appeared to be kindergarteners, as he explained the history behind the monument. Their eyes gaped with wonder and they were eagerly asking questions about the space, and in that, I could see the prominence and importance of the monument – in producing a physical connection and bridge between today and the crucial history that has passed where we stand.

As I walked through Coney Island, I felt at home again. Growing up in Coney Island allowed my childhood to be engulfed in culture, color, and exploration. Everywhere you look, whether you are on the boardwalk, on the streets where the old freak show used to be, or where the first Nathan’s still stands, you will see splashes of color strewed across old amusement park rides, carnival-style food stands, or murals, painted by those that have a profound love for the neighborhood. But one piece of art really spoke to me, the one pictured above. A wall titled “Faces of Coney” presented pictures of people from all different cultures and backgrounds that were either visiting Coney Island or called Coney Island their home. Unfortunately, may of the pictures were ripped off, however the ones still standing reminded me of the richness of Coney Island’s culture. Walking the boardwalk hundreds of times in my life, I remember seeing people of all races, from different cultures, speaking a vast amount of languages. To those visiting Coney for the first time, it is spectacular, with the grand Wonder Wheel or its spectacular beaches filled with joyous friends and family in the summertime. Elderly people come to chat, as they sit on benches and look out into the glittering ocean. Children come to enjoy the rides. Young adults enjoy the nightlife of Coney, especially in the summer. People from all different backgrounds come to jog or just stroll along the boardwalk, enjoying the beautiful and eccentric scenery along the way. The diversity of Coney Island’s activities reflects the diversity of the people that visit. This picture encompasses the memories that people all over the world have shared at Coney Island, and represents the continuous influx of cultures that flows into Coney, leaving it’s everlasting mark for future visitors to see.

For our iMovie project, our group decided to focus on the most original, useful, and under appreciated part of the city: the subways. Although they may cause mayhem for tourists who try to maneuver their way to popular sites, for everyday New Yorkers they are a necessity. Our iMovie project will focus on a person’s journey, both physically and mentally, through the subways. It will focus on the different encounters a person could have on a train whether it be performance, a beggar, a fight, being on a crowded subway car, or being completely alone. I thought it would be very interesting to use the Q train for this assignment. This train connects all the way from Brooklyn to Manhattan and  unlike many trains, we get to see an above ground view of where we are going. The Q is rarely packed, and connects two separate islands to one another. I feel it is perfect for our iMovie because people who use the subways every single day rarely understand the feeling of seeing a whole city pass right before your eyes, considering we are stuck in a metal box for the entire ride. It would be interesting to focus on the different sights, sounds, smells, and views that come from different subway stations. As somebody who goes home many weekends my mother always drops me off at the Q station either in Brighton Beach or on her way to work in Brooklyn. I always look forward to seeing the train cross the bridge and it always elicits feelings of joy and astonishment; I feel like a kid in a candy shop. This feeling needs to be expressed in our iMovie project and this subway line is the perfect line to focus on. It gives a person the chance to really see the city for what it is.

The Plaza hotel capitalizes on the experience of luxe. This luxe is meant to appeal to all ages thus cultivating an almost indelible idea of a calculated opulence. The richness we see around us in this hotel, the richness that captivates us has been perfectly molded to all of our notions of what otium is. Otium is a Latin term describing the very relaxed life of a wealthy person. Nonetheless, this sense of otium is not cold or polarizing. Instead, it is warm and inviting. From the palm trees in the palm court bar to Eloise’s tea party room, it is evident that we are being catered to and welcomed.

As you walk into the Eloise store, there are finely designed, well-tailored, extremely stylish coats, dresses, and berets for young girls. The walls are pink and inviting, with books about a girl living a life of adventure in a suite at the Plaza. The light fixtures are made of pink fabric that has been molded into the shape of a cone. The floors are the same checkered black and white of the floors depicted in the children’s book. Eloise the movie plays in the background, she is having tea in one of the elaborate rooms of the Plaza. As a child, this would have been an absolute dream. Eloise’s life is that of otium to a child. She plays, causes a ruckus, has a room filled with intricate toys and enjoys tea parties. This image of luxury is recreated in this room and thus the Plaza is able to appeal to even a child’s sense of sophistication. The image shown above is one of the tea party section of the store. The tea sets have Eloise’s childish scrawl on them, the tables are pink and the walls are lined with China that has Eloise’s cartoon face plastered upon it. While tea parties and fine china evoke a sense of refinement. This refinement is not stiff as is made evident by the childlike influences within the tea party space. The sophistication here is fun. This reflects the general essence of the Plaza, how its grand architecture and beautiful high ceilings and grand staircases interact with the selling and buying of luxury goods and fine food from all cultures. There is an overwhelming sense of unabashed indulgence that can be viewed as fun.

Our ideas of wealth and indulgence are being shown to us but with a twist of welcoming lighthearted pleasure.

Coney Island has always inspired a feeling of nostalgia for me; like I’d stepped backwards in time and ended up in some twilight zone where the world couldn’t decide if it wanted to move on or stand still. Passing by the old murals by the freak show and gazing up at the coney island hotel gives us a glimpse of what visitors saw and admired decades ago; its jarring to see the Wonder Wheel and know that people have been riding it since 1918. This disconnect between the past and the present is further amplified when you juxtapose the shiny, brightly lit modern rides of Luna Park with the older, less technologically enhanced amusements of Deno’s amusement park just next door. In this photograph, that dichotomy is clear. The Luna 360 stands polished and saturated across from the older and more muted Wonder Wheel. Its colors have dulled over time, and its old-fashioned design recalls a period when it was considered an example of the latest technological innovation. The photograph was taken around ten o’clock on a Sunday morning, so the rides stood deserted in the silence. The only people that were there were the park workers, and us. Occasionally, the sound of air compression from the rides would disturb the still air of the park. It was eerie, to see a place so colorful and fun be separated from the bustle of people and motion that it was meant to be in. I found that I enjoyed having the space to myself; being able to take in everything without distraction was an experience I’d never had at an amusement park. Seeing that space dead-quiet on a crisp Sunday morning made me feel an interesting sort of detachment from the reality of the commitments and responsibilities I had back home, because in that moment they didn’t exist. I was in a separate time, in a separate place where there was no such thing as a midterm paper.