Author: Alexandra Caruso

Alexandra Caruso ~ Dead Horse Bay

December 15, 2014 / Alexandra Caruso / 0 Comments

Dead Horse Bay
You’ll have to thank George Takei for introducing me (indirectly) to this place. His Facebook page led me to a link on Guff.com titled “15 Secret or Easy Things to Miss in New York City.” I’ve always had a humongous curiosity for the unknown or hard-to-get-to, especially in New York City. When I was reading the article, I thought about the time when I found out about the old City Hall Station (which the 6 train passes through to switch from the downtown side to the uptown side) after interesting research about “secret” abandoned subway stations. Seeing the old City Hall station was so exciting for me; it felt like I was time traveling. I wanted another experience like that, so I decided to do more research about hidden, lesser known, or secret gems in New York City. I found several lists of these sorts of places. They included places like The Campbell Apartment, the train platform under the Waldorf-Astoria (that FDR used every time he came to NYC), the fake house in Brooklyn Heights (used as a subway ventilator), and Dead Horse Bay. Dead Horse Bay is SUPER unknown, primarily because of its isolated location. After reading about its history and unique (and delightfully creepy) qualities, I knew I had to plan a visit (or several visits).
Its name dates back to the events of the 1850s (through the 1920s). From the New York Times: “Dead Horse Bay sits at the western edge of a marshland once dotted by more than two dozen horse-rendering plants, fish oil factories and garbage incinerators.” The factories and plants dumped all of their used horse carcasses into the bay. Horse bones still wash ashore, along with old trash. The bay, during this era, was used also as a landfill, which was capped in the 1930s. The caps on the trash burst in the 1950s, so junk has been leaking onto the beach ever since.
Well, that sealed it (pun not intended) – secretive, historical, AND inundated with old trash? Well, I just had to go. That being said, in regards to the question about me being an insider or outsider: I would say I’m both. Obviously, I’m alive, and the communities that produced this trash are dead. That’s definitely a key contrast. But I’m a consumer, I definitely throw things out, and I am a part of American culture. Those parts of me (in addition to the mystery addict part) are probably what piqued my interest about and drew my to this location.
The first day I went was a cold and rainy one. I was with three other friends (God bless these people for actually going along with my craziness), and, needless to say, I was the only person truly excited to be going. We took an obscure bus to this equally obscure place, and entered a path that truly felt illegal (even though it wasn’t). The preliminary path led up to three separate ones, all leading to different parts of the Bay. We took the right-most one. I don’t know what I was expecting, but the trail leading up to the beach was breathtakingly beautiful. I’ll forgo my descriptive abilities and include pictures of it in my presentation so you can see the nature yourself.
The first visit was purely for scoping out everything and making mental observations. I wanted to see the items there, and categorize them so I could improve my collecting during the second visit. I took most of my pictures on this day. I also just wanted to have time to explore without worrying about collecting for the project all of the time. The second time I visited the bay (also with a slightly begrudging friend) I had my microscope eyes on, so I could bag the interesting and striking pieces I found. I’m bringing all of the items I collected to class in Ziploc bags (I sanitized them all, too) so people can experience them tactilely.
I discovered some really beautiful pieces- hand-painted metal toys (a few of which I brought to class), old ads, and house furnishings. Everything was made in the USA, and of extraordinarily good quality. A lot of these objects, after being kept in the least preserving conditions for over one hundred years, were still intact, vastly unblemished, and/or sturdy. This is why I consider this trash to be art- most of the pieces were crafted with quality and beauty in mind, before the majority of American companies were outsourced to poorer countries (in the monetary interest of those wealthy CEOs and other executives). Of course, the people of the late 19th century and early 20th century did not have this knowledge, so they “wasted.” They threw out beautiful and still-working items, especially toys and bottles (of course, using bottles for anything other than drinking was just not heard of). To them, though, they were only throwing the bottles, toys, ads, etc. out when they thought the objects had absolutely no use anymore.
I also, discovered, apparently, a newly classified rock type there. At the beginning of the latest National Geographic issue, I read about a kind of rock called a “plastiglomerate.” This is a rock composed of earth, sand, and debris. Though repulsive in appearance, this type of rock “could serve as markers of…civilization” according to sedimentologist Patricia Corcoran. Dead Horse Bay is home to this type of rock in areas where the sea crashes up on the land repeatedly. I included pictures of these Dead Horse Bay plastiglomerates, and you can see the unique melding of plastic, glass, rock, sand, and everything else.
I reaffirmed my romanticism and desire for adventure during both trips. As soon as I stepped onto the first path, I’m telling you, I was blissful. My friends were worried for me because I wouldn’t talk to them, and I was over-the-top excited. The extreme isolation of the location made me feel as if I could time travel, that I could forget the highway parallel to the ocean (as a writer and peace-seeker, I am always looking for accessible, beautiful, and quiet parts of the city). It was a place that fed my anachronism and created an intimacy with people I had never met.
Other than my lack of time machine, no other limitations existed in my trips. I was free to observe, photograph, and collect as I pleased. The three diverging paths allowed me to traverse the curve of the beach and satisfied my exploratory urges. I’d just like to go back there again and again. Unfortunately, Dead Horse Bay is a 90-minute commute from my house (though a 40-minute bus ride from Brooklyn College), so I only have the option, really, to travel there on special occasions. I wouldn’t go back to collect, though (unless I saw a really pretty bottle I could use as a vase or candle holder). I would write, and think there. If I really wanted to go all out, I would bring a chair, blanket, thermos, lunch, and several books to fulfill my romantic fantasy. If the other visitors look at me strangely, so what? Places like these keep me sane.

Fall For Dance Review

November 25, 2014 / Alexandra Caruso / 0 Comments

The National Ballet of China’s performance was the Aspirin to the headache produced by the previous avant-garde act. As soon as tonal music started playing again, I could feel my body relaxing back into my seat.
I probably should have read the program before the performance. I went headfirst into The Peony Pavilion thinking like Sherlock Holmes trying to deduce the plot of the story. But the Chinese dancers expressed their art so skillfully I could follow along with the emotions of the tale (if not the specifics of the storyline). I was able to see and feel the mysticality (and creepiness), passion, and pain of the characters and setting.
The dance performance felt like a mini opera without singing (I guess like a classic ballet, then). The costumes were lavish and the staging was minimalistic. The costumes specialized and grouped characters as they were meant to be- peasants (I’m assuming they were) moved as a group and wore a plain uniform of black bottom, green top. The supernatural yin-and-yang characters complemented each other’s with their black and white outfits. The lovers and parents (in the beginning and ending) donned lush and extravagant embroidered silks and flowing materials.
The music, after thinking to look in the program for a description of it (after Elijah and I puzzled over the resemblance different parts of the music made to different pieces and composers), was really masterfully arranged. I could not tell at all during the performance that the music, seeming like one coherent piece, was actually composed of different movements from different musical pieces. This included music by Ravel, Debussy, Holst, Prokofiev, and finished with the Pines of Rome by Respighi. Again, the pieces move so seamlessly into each other and matched the ongoing plot so well.
In addition to contrasting terrifically with Trisha Brown’s act, Son of Gone Fishin’, it provided a spectacle that the audience went wild for. It fitted as a closing act, with its fantastical explosion of flower petals at the end of the performance.

Anne Sophie Mutter Concert

November 25, 2014 / Alexandra Caruso / 0 Comments

Besides ride trains of thought, I tend to un-focus my eyes while watching the musicians. This way, they all look like a collective body. During some especially lively parts of the pieces, the string players moved in a wave of movements. It was like watching the fountain in Lincoln Center.

My other physical reactions varied throughout the pieces and movements of the concert. While the first Bach piece played, I laid back and watched the starry lightbulbs. During the Vivaldi, though, I was rocking out. My hands went crazy as I tapped out the rhythms and I couldn’t sit still.

It was truly a pleasure seeing Anne Sophie Mutter perform, though. I mean, she must breathe with less reflex and skill than she plays the violin. I’m not usually a big solo violin fan, but she knew how to keep the music fresh and alive.

Café La MaMa

November 25, 2014 / Alexandra Caruso / 0 Comments

Café La MaMa

➢ Opened by Ellen Stewart in 1961 in the basement of 321 E 9th St.
➢ A theater “for the playwright”, free space for playwrights to feel free to go wild with their ideas, not worry about pleasing a specific clientele
➢ A health inspector advised Stewart to register the place as a café (coffeehouse) because it was easier to get licenses for cafes than theaters
➢ Kept the theater open with “pass the hat” donations and Stewart’s own freelance fashion designs and seamstress work
➢ Opened and closed a lot at first, because of violations of a number of laws (fire code, zoning ordinance)
➢ Moved to a loft on 2nd Ave in 1963- larger space (74 people), had to stop selling coffee and start charging admission because of the Buildings Department, and renamed La Mama Experimental Theater Club – now a private club with membership
➢ Even then, the authorities would try to find any law Stewart & her theater could possibly be violating- Stewart would sit on the steps to ward off any authorities during performances
➢ Stewart created a rule that only new plays could be acted out on her stage, once a week
➢ Relocated in 1964 in the middle of a performance to another location on 2nd Avenue with the audience each carrying the theater’s possessions (chairs, tables, paintings)
➢ Thank you, civic authorities for sealing La Mama’s fame- publicity went up after news of all the violations Stewart and her theater had made
➢ Even though the new location had no sign, La Mama Theater gained about 3,000 members by 1967
➢ La Mama moved to a very temporary space (on St. Marks Place) for three months (Jan. – Mar. 1969) until moving to their final and existing location on East Fourth Street in April of 1969
➢ This location has two theaters, one on each floor (the third floor was used as Stewart’s apartment)
➢ Annex (later “Ellen Stewart Theater”) opened two doors down in 1974
➢ Patti Smith first began to perform at La Mama Theater in 1970, so she would’ve started in the final home of the theater
➢ She was asked by Jackie Curtis (after cutting her hair to look like Keith Richards’s) to perform in her play Femme Fatale
➢ This symbolized the beginning of Patti’s reputation and name in the current pop culture
➢ The show combined familiar religious and movie scenes with “bizarre contemporary situations,” according to the rave review published in the newspaper Show Business by Frank Lee Wilde.
➢ Pretty much Patti Smith’s first performance gig, which probably contributed to her breaking out of her strong wish to not become a performing artist (singer)

Open Mic

November 25, 2014 / Alexandra Caruso / 0 Comments

It was as if the performers (especially the poets) used the cords of their hearts as pens with blood ink. Some of them quickly flung out their words, a few deadened the tone of their voices to lessen the emotional vulnerability of their pieces. But most of them lifted their chins and rooted their feet in the ground, as if to say “This is who I am; this is what I feel.” It was great.

The types of responses I heard from people after the Open Mic made me glad that this was a required event for our seminar class (and other seminar classes) to go to. If you’re not used to honest, deeply felt writing, you can feel shocked, even repulsed by it. Too vulnerable, too depressing. But as people become more and more exposed to such writing and performance, the beauty of it becomes more apparent and its execution more comfortable, therapeutic, even.

Music for The Valley of Astonishment

October 15, 2014 / Alexandra Caruso / 0 Comments

When I first sat down into my balcony seat, I took note of all of the instruments present on stage. They were: a sitar, a gourd percussion instrument, a keyboard, a drum, a gong, a cymbal, and an accordion. The music in The Valley of Astonishment had three purposes: to illustrate how synesthetes perceive synesthesia, appropriate background theme music, and sound effects.
Even though the philosophical backbone of the play only burrowed itself an inch deep into my brain (we don’t have the pleasure of re-reading and absorbing meanings during a live play, unfortunately), the deep sentiments and meanings of it resonated through the music. Middle Eastern (or Persian, in this case) music hummed through the sitar whilst the actors recited excerpts at different times throughout the play from The Conference of the Birds, the Persian poem which one can assume the inspiration for the play came from. I may be a crazy English major, but I really saw the stage shiver with heat waves like it would in the hot climate of Persia (Iran). Another touching musical theme was the one presumably for Sammy Costas- though it may have been a theme for all of the general synesthetes. In my memory it sounds like the delicate piano introduction to the theme from the movie To Kill a Mockingbird. In my logical memory, though, it might have been a Bach piano piece. Something quietly intellectual, like a lullaby. The flute solo at the ended set an eerie finish to the play. I’m still trying to process the meaning of it, so I really can’t comment on its interpretation.
The music also picked up when the few synesthetes were giving their stories away to the cognitive psychologists. It became bubbly and random, but harmoniously so. The musicians were actively trying to produce colors for the audience with “normal” senses. During these tales, the music changed to fit the mood and setting of them- old jazz playing when the man painted, carny show music during the magic tricks. The two instrumentalists pulled off an authentic sound for each section.
Oh, the sound effects. They came out during the humorous parts of the play. The sitar bowed out EEG results, the gourd popped out the passage of time, the cymbal and drum overrode the extensive recitations of Sammy. Very silly- a good comic relief in between the very vague wise sections.
For me, the music explained the subtext I was unable to ascertain from the spoken text. It gave me the emotions and moods I think Peter Brook wanted me to feel: mystical, nostalgic, spooked, and entranced.

Staging for The Magic Flute

October 15, 2014 / Alexandra Caruso / 0 Comments

The transparent revolving cube allowed for the quick appearances and disappearances of characters, and for a spritely magical feel. Without the cube, characters such as the Queen of the Night would have had to run onto stage for a semblance of a dramatic entrance, and sets would have had to be changed much more often than they were during this performance. With the cube, transitions between scenes and arias flowed seamlessly.
The only other non-cube staging was the staircase temple of Sarastro. The staircase/temple visibly led to the triangular sunlike pattern. When this temple was present onstage, Sarastro almost always stood on the highest level of it. His positioning on the staging highlighted his powerful godliness and “all-knowing” nature (being above all others allows you to symbolically or literally watch all events and doings below you).
Both main staging devices were transparent and/or relatively colorless. The lack of radical pigmentation on either one allowed the lighting to flood the stage with orange, blue, green, white, etc. and magnify the resulting desired mood.