Performance Impressions: living matter(s) — compagnie O. (English version)

living matter(s) — compagnie O.

Tanzhaus Zürich, Zurich, September 17, 2023
Dance: Alice D’Angelo, Naomi Kamihigashi, Ambra Preyer 
Artistic direction: Marie Alexis
Impressions- Tanznachtisch by Tanz LOBBY IG Tanz Zurich 
Moderator «Tanznachtisch» (audience talkback): Tina Mantel 
Text: Mary Staub
https://tanzlobby.ch/
Audience members frame two opposite sides of the central stage-space, rising on bleachers on either side, peering down on a rectangular black rubbery, crumpled tarp that covers most of the floorspace in between. An oil spill that suffocates that which lies beneath? A wrestling ring for living versus non-living matter?

Some audience members already wrestle with the non-living matter of their seat cushions— seemingly scrunched up plastic in a gauze-like pillowcase. They try to adjust it just so for comfort, while taming the crackle and rustle it emits. Living matter?

Three dancers in glistening, scaly tight rubber unitards slide down rubbery ramps that run down the center of the bleachers. One limb oozes over the next, heavily, slowly, passively, without will or muscle—the only sign of volition when the dancers climb back up to the top of their side of the bleachers, in a dreamlike trance. A softly crackling soundscape contrasts the smoothness of the sliding bodies.
One by one the bodies slither under the black tarpaulin center-stage, the details of the dancers thereby disappearing, but not their form—the tarp bubbles, rises and falls from the bodies moving underneath. These breathing pulses create cracks and crevices in the plastic surface. Various forms of seemingly non-living matter slowly spill forth—grey rubber foam, translucent cellophane, white gauzed netting, a hand, a leg, an eye, a head. Or is it living matter?

The title itself begs the question. “living matter(s)”. Matters of life? Matters that live? The meaning of living? Is matter alive? What matter lives? Does living matter? Is it important to live? Who is alive? What is alive? The questions are endless.

Occasionally the dancers connect with one another, at times forming and reforming malleable sculptures, limbs heavily flowing over one another. At other times, the formations are angular, jerky, like mobiles, a pull on a knee, a hexagon of limbs, a lunged diagonal. Embodied chemical compounds?
Throughout the piece, more matter enters the stage. While initially invited by the dancers through a soft tug, jerk, or jolt, the matter soon seems to flow onto stage as though on its own.

In one section, all three performers heave themselves over one another, pushing and tugging, but passively, to drip back up a ramp. At its top, they unleash, first slowly then rapidly, endless
reams of cellophane-like material from an infinite-seeming reel. They tug as though trying to empty the role, but soon the ribbons of tape take over, carrying the bodies down the ramp on a slippery slide of cellophane. The bodies run up, slide down, dash up, tumble down, a stream of cellophane gushing and ripping underneath.

Or are the dancers ripping at it after all?

In another section, the dancers start pulling on lengthy drapes attached high overhead on reels in the rafters. Again, first they tug slowly, but soon a waterfall of drapes releases ever-more- rapidly from the rolls overhead, inundating the world beneath.

Other matter enters the stage, giving rise to various images—waves of gauze swirling and rising and crashing; ripples of tarp, glistening like water in the sun; the glistening sculptures of three bodies slicked together as though by oil; vibrating nets with either the nets themselves swinging in resonance or being swung by fish caught therein (screaming “living matters”!?).

In this way, there’s a constant interplay of living and non-living matter, frequently blurring the boundary of who or what is which.

The program notes raise similar questions: “Matter surrounds and permeates us, can be shaped and manipulated, but can also affect the human body in unpredictable and uncontrollable ways. How does our approach to the world change when we consider matter not as manipulable and lifeless, but as effective, capable of action, vital and self-effective?”

After “living matter(s)”, during Tanznachtisch (the audience talk-back led by members of TanzLOBBY), a small group of spectators—some were regular dancegoers, but others weren’t—exchanged their impressions from the piece. For most of them, while the movement and staging were abstract in nature, “living matter(s)” created concrete images or even full-blown narratives. An oil slick that suffocates everything and continuous to develop and take new forms throughout the piece. Three bodies in bridal gowns of gauzed netting swaying together. Waterfowl unable to move as intended by nature because their feathers are glued to their bodies by sheets of oil-slick matter. Fishing nets. Undulating waves.

What stood out was that the piece gave produced many questions related to living and matter—is it possible for the living to fuse with matter? Has it already? Were the workers (dancers) slaves to the matter, heisting and heaving their way through ever-growing heaps of non-living matter, a Sisyphean task? Or did the workers shape the matter, thereby creating the world they wanted?

(One question of a more practical matter was: who’s going to clean all this up?)

The movement of the performers captivated most of the Tanznachtisch participants, as did the images created by the materials onstage. The abundance of these non-living materials also gave rise to the question of whether it’s ok to aestheticize plastic when we know of all the harm it does. Some in the audience commented that the performers rarely showed emotion, only an occasional inner smile when they connected with one another. Those moments were relished. Some people would have liked more such moments—a clear presence of the living within the non-living surrounding matter. Or maybe that was the point—to have the living disappear into the matter and make us think about what that means.

living matter(s)
Artistic direction - Marie Alexis
Concept - Marie Alexis, Ivalina Yapova, Mona De Weerdt
Choreography - Marie Alexis in cooperation with the performers
Dramaturgy - Mona De Weerdt
Stage, light, props - Ivalina Yapova
Costumes and props - Karen Feelizitas Petermann
Composition and sound design - Serafin Aebli
Text - Mona De Weerdt, Marie Alexis
Performance - Alice D’Angelo, Naomi Kamihigashi, Ambra Peyer
Co-conception performance - Lyn Bentschik
Production - Marie Alexis, Karolina Sarre
Choreographic assistant - Soraya Leila Emery
Dramaturgical advisor Tanzhaus Zürich - Jessica Huber
Scenographic assistant - Hannah Förster
Graphic design, photography - Pascale Lustenberger
Video - Esther Petsche (camera), Marie Alexis (editing)

Performance Impressionen: SCH.NEE – Nunzio Impellizzeri (Deutsche Version)

 SCH.NEE – Nunzio Impellizzeri

Kulturmarkt, Zürich, 29. Oktober 2022
Tanz: Federica Aventaggiato, Lionel Ah-Sou, Claudio Costantino, Clémentine Dumas, Loar Labat Berrio, Katharina Ludwig
Aufführungsimpression Tanznachtisch der Tanz LOBBY IG Tanz Zürich
Text: Mary Staub
(https://tanzlobby.ch/)
Tanzinteressierte bilden eine lockere Schlange im Foyer des Kulturmarktes, während sie auf den Einlass zu Nunzio Impellizzeri’s 60-minütigem Stück "Sch.nee" warten. Bloss sechs Personen aufs Mal dürfen in den Theaterraum übertreten. Der Rest hält inne. Einmal durch die Tür geschritten, hält ein schwarzer Vorhang die Teilnehmenden erneut kurz auf, bis eine erpTänzerin das Gewebe sachte zur Seite zieht, und die Zuschauer*innen über die Bühne und zu ihren Plätzen führt. Beim Überqueren der Bühne stoßen sie auf mehrere Tänzer*innen, die sich auf der Bühne und zwischen den Zuschaulätzen dehnen, leicht aufwärmen, sanft Posen einnehmen. Das Publikum schaut zu, wie die nächste Gruppe von sechs Tanzerinteressierten den Raum betreten, die Bühne überqueren und ihre Plätze einnehmen. Und nochmals sechs, und nochmals sechs.  Das Publikum sieht zu, wie sechs Tänzer*innen im Bühnenraum sich weiter leicht bewegen, strecken, posieren. Manchmal fordert ein/e Tänzer*in eine/n Zuschauer*in zur Partnerarbeit auf, eine einfache Dehnungs- oder Bewegungssequenz. Die Trennung zwischen Tänzer*innen und Zuschauer*innen wird so verringert. Der Raum und die Zeit—der Übergang—von der Außenwelt zur Aufführungswelt wird derweil ausgedehnt, bis alle Zuschauenden sitzen und die eine Welt fliessend in die andere übergeht. 

In "Sch.nee" erkundet der in Italien geborene und in Zürich lebende Nunzio Impellizzeri die Rolle von Lärm und Stille in unserer zunehmend hyperstimulierten Gesellschaft. Was ist Stille in diesem Kontext? (Wie) existiert Stille? (Wie) können wir mit Stille umgehen? Welche Rolle spielt die Stille in einer Gesellschaft, in der diejenigen, die am lautesten schreien, am weitesten kommen? Wenn der Lärm weg fällt, was füllt dann den Raum? 

Als das Licht angeht, sitzen drei Tänzerinnen und drei Tänzer in einer Reihe, von der Bühne aus dem Publikum zugewandt, und halten die Blicke des Publikums fest. Langsam stehen die Tänzer*innen auf, behalten den Blickkontakt zuerst noch bei, während sie sich weiter in den Raum begeben. Die Brücke von Publikum zu Tanzenden wird dabei stärker. Sie tragen leuchtende, zweifarbige Basics: Shorts, T-Shirts, Hotpants, Trikots—leuchtendes Rot mit strahlendem Türkis; heißes Pink mit glänzendem Grün; kräftiges Orange mit glühendem Gelb. In diesen feurigen Zweifarben schreiten, ziehen, posieren und schneiden die Tänzer*innen exakte, bewegte Formen, mal allein, mal paarweise, mal als einheitliches Sextett. Breite Ausfallschritte werden breiter. Sie tauchen und drehen sich in tiefen Arabesken. In Barrel Turns attackieren sie den Raum mit fesselnder Präzision. Diese Bilder werden untermalt von einer crescendierenden elektronischen, perkussiven Klanglandschaft. Aus einem sanften Ton entwickelt sich ein leicht pulsierender, zunehmend rhythmischer, pochender elektronischer Sound, der die Tänzer*innen durchdringt. Sie schlagen, stampfen, springen. Sie pulsieren den Beat der Musik, der Beat pulsiert sie, treibt ihre Körper an, lässt ihre Körper aufeinanderprallen. Alles steigert sich—der Klang, die Geschwindigkeit, der Rhythmus, die Kostümfarben. Viele im Publikum nehmen den Beat auf, spiegeln den Puls der Tänzer, das Dröhnen der Musik, den Rhythmus der Körper auf der Bühne.  

Plötzlich herrscht Stille.

Und in dieser Stille hören wir wie die Körper atmen. Und in dieser Ruhe sehen und spüren wir deutlicher, wie die Körper sich bewegten. 

Und plötzlich herrscht Dunkelheit. Und in dieser Abwesenheit von Licht und Lärm wird deutlich, wie laut die Farben schrien, wie intensiv die Musik pochte, wie präzise die Körper auf der Bühne Formen, Skulpturen und Bewegung in den Raum schnitzten. 

In "Sch.nee" bilden solche ausgedehnte Blackouts durchlässige Unterteilungen zwischen den einzelnen Abschnitten des Stückes. Jeder Abschnitt ruft eine eigene Welt ins Leben, und diese fliesst ins Blackout hinüber. In der Stille des Blackouts wird das vorher kreierte noch deutlicher gehört, gesehen, gespürt. Diese dunklen, stillen Zwischenräume laden zum Reflektieren ein. 

Ein Abschnitt von "Sch.nee" erinnert an eine Unterwasserwelt. Eine Figur gleitet dem Boden entlang, an eine Meeresschnecke erinnernd, mit einem hell erleuchteten Auge am Kopfende—ein surreales Bild, welches eine bezaubernde Atmosphäre entstehen lässt. (Ein Tänzer, der eine Tauchermaske trägt, die von innen leise beleuchtet ist.) In dieser Unterwasseratmosphäre, werden die Bewegungen der Tanzenden flüssiger, die Klangfarben gedämpfter, die Farben weniger schrill. Die Tänzer*innen tragen meist nacktfarbene, netzhafte Bekleidung, bewegen sich sanft wogend, die Konturen von Klang, Bewegung, Licht und Farbe sind weich. Manchmal klaffen die Münder fischartig auf, als ob Luftblasen atmend oder lautlos sprechend. 

Hin und wieder in "Sch.nee" halten die Tänzer*innen inne, fixieren den Blick ins Publikum, laden dieses weiter in ihre Welt ein. Mit den Zeigefingern umrahmen sie die eigenen Nasen- und Mundwinkel—eine zarte Geste. Ein leises "ssssshhhh" ertönt. Der Titel "Sch.nee" setzt sich aus dem verstummenden Geräusch des "ssssshhhh" und dem stummen Element "Schnee" und einem verneinenden "nee" zusammen. 

Im letzten Abschnitt erscheinen die Tänzer*innen überwiegend in Weiß, die voreinst grellen Farben verschwunden (verschneit?). Ihre Bewegungen sind gewichtet und zugleich leicht, als ob sie sich durch Schneewehen winden. Der Ton ist meditativ, hypnotisierend, als ob auch der Ton vom Schnee absorbiert wird. Plötzlich halten die Tänzer*innen eine weiße Kugel, an einen Schneeball erinnernd, im Mund, der Übergang fast unbemerkbar. Ein beunruhigendes Bild: Geknebelt zum Schweigen gebracht. Jedoch: Der Blick der Tänzer*innen verbleibt weich, sanft, vereint mit dieser Stille. Unmerklich verschmelzen sie zu kollektiven Skulpturen, die einzelnen Körper ineinander verflochten, bevor sie wieder zerfliessen um anderswo zu einer neuen Figur sich zu vereinen. Eine Tänzerin wird hochgehoben und getragen und gehalten, sanft geschaukelt und in Kreuzespose getaumelt. Der Fluss der Skulpturen hält das Publikum in einem meditativen Bann. 

Im Anschluss an "Sch.nee" teilte eine kleine Gruppe von Zuschauern beim Tanznachtisch ihre Eindrücke aus dem Stück mit, während Nunzio Impellizzeri und Manfred Dachs zunächst zuhörten und am Ende Fragen aus dem Publikum beantworteten. Was das Publikum stark ansprach, waren die gegensätzlichen Qualitäten von Klang, Bewegung, Kostümen, Beleuchtung und Gesamtwelten, die in verschiedenen Abschnitten geschaffen wurden. Diese gegensätzlichen Welten bildeten ein Ganzes, wie auch Lärm und Stille zwar gegensätzlich, aber vereint sind. Auch unzählige skulpturale Bilder hinterließen starke Eindrücke—Tänzer*innen mit von Bällen gestopften Mündern; klaffende, fischähnliche Mäuler; Unterwasserwesen; leuchtende Farben; grelle Farben; unheimliches Licht; der Blick der Tänzer; das verstummende "sssshhhhhh". Das Publikum empfing diese Bewegungsbilder offen, ein Geschenk, welches die Tänzer*innen in "Sch.nee" ins Leben erweckten. 

Der Übergang von Aussenwelt zur Theaterwelt wurde ähnlich offen empfangen—die anfängliche Nähe zwischen Publikum und Tanzenden ermöglichte den Zuschauenden noch intensiver selbst einen Teil der erschaffenen Gesamtwelten zu werden. Das Publikum erlebte die Verbindung zu den einzelnen Tänzern, und folgte körperlich und emotional zeitweise einer einzelnen Figur. Gleichzeitig genossen sie die Welten, die durch das Zusammenfließen von Klang, Licht, Farben und dem Kollektiv der Tänzer*innen entstanden. Das Publikum nahm die Erfahrungen, Bilder und Welten, die diese Tänzer*innen in den 60 Minuten so eindringlich verkörperten, dankbar auf—unzählige Geschenke, die es mit nach Hause nehmen konnte. 

Ein Geschenk, welches in der Stille unserer Häuser uns weiter bescheren wird.

SCH.NEE
Künstlerische Leitung, Konzept und Choreografie Nunzio Impellizzeri
Originalmusik Tarek Schmidt
Tanz Federica Aventaggiato, Lionel Ah-Sou, Claudio Costantino, Clémentine Dumas, Loar Labat Berrio, Katharina Ludwig
Licht- und Kostümdesign Nunzio Impellizzeri 
Kostümproduktion Theama for Dance, Probenleitung Irene Andreetto, Outside Eye Silvia Scipilliti, Technische Leitung Viktoras Zemeckas, Produktionsmanagement Manfred Dachs

Performance Impressions: SCH.NEE – Nunzio Impellizzeri (English version)

SCH.NEE – Nunzio Impellizzeri

Kulturmarkt, Zurich, October 29, 2022

Dance: Federica Aventaggiato, Lionel Ah-Sou, Claudio Costantino, Clémentine Dumas, Loar Labat Berrio, Katharina Ludwig

Impressions -  Tanznachtisch by TanzLOBBY IG Tanz Zurich
Text: Mary Staub  
(https://tanzlobby.ch/)

Dancegoers cluster, forming a loose line in the Kulturmarkt foyer as they await entry to Nunzio Impellizzeri’s 60-minute piece “Sch.nee”. Just six people at a time are allowed into the theater. The rest must slow down and wait. Once inside, a black curtain stops entrants short, causing them to pause once more. A dancer gently draws the fabric aside and shows the audience members across the stage and towards their seats. In crossing, they brush up against several dancers who are stretching, posing and warming up on the stage and in between audience seats. The audience watches further groups of six dancegoers enter the theater, cross the stage and find their seats. And another six. And six more. The audience observes as six dancers continue to make shapes, reach and loosen up throughout the theater. At times one of them invites a audience member to partner in a simple stretch or movement sequence. The separation between dancer and dancegoer is thus reduced, a bridge established. Meanwhile, the transition from outside world to performance world expands—an extended in-between—until all audience members are seated and one world flows into the other. 

In “Sch.nee” Italian-born, Zurich-based Nunzio Impellizzeri explores the roles of sound and silence in our increasingly hyper-stimulated society. What is silence in this context? (How) does silence exist? (How) can we deal with silence? What role does silence play in a society where they who scream loudest are those who get farthest ahead? Once sound is gone, what fills that space? 

As the lights come up, six dancers are sitting in a line, facing the audience from the stage, holding their gaze intently. As the dancers slowly stand and begin moving, their eye contact initially remains strong—the bridge between dancer and dancegoer thus reinforced. The dancers wear vibrant two-toned basics: shorts, t-shirts, hot pants, a unitard, a leotard—glowing red with brilliant turquoise; hot pink with radiant lime; bright orange and strong yellow. In these fiery two-tones, the dancers reach, pose and cut precise, moving shapes into space, sometimes alone, sometimes in pairs, sometimes in nuggets of uniformity, moving as a sextet through the room, first slowly then faster. They dip and turn in deep arabesques. In barrel turns they eat up space with captivating precision. They lunge, lunge further, and even further, until they can lunge no further and are drawn across the room. An electronic percussive soundscape supports the scenes. From a soft rumble it builds into a mildly pulsating, increasingly rhythmic, throbbing electronic sound that penetrates the dancers. Crescendoing. They beat, stomp, drill, jump. They pulse the beat of the music; the beat pulses them, driving their bodies, clashing their bodies against one another. Everything intensifies—sound, speed, rhythm, colors. Many in the audience pick up the beat, mirroring the dancers’ pulse, the music’s thrum, the rhythm of the bodies onstage.  

And suddenly there is silence. And suddenly there is stillness. 

And in this silence, we hear the bodies breathe. 

And in this stillness, we see and feel more clearly how the bodies moved before.  

And when the lights go out, and there is darkness, in this absence of light and sound, it becomes apparent how loudly those colors screamed, how intensely the music throbbed, how precisely, sharply, astutely those bodies carved shapes, sculptures and movement into space. In this silence the noise is visceral.  

In “Sch.nee”, such extended silent blackouts form porous boundaries between individual sections, each one creating a distinct world that trickles into this stillness. In this calm in-between space, the previously created world is more deeply heard, seen and felt, magnified by the absence and inviting audiences to reflect. 

One section of “Sch.nee” seems an underwater world. A creature slithers across the floor, like a sea slug with a brightly lit eye fixed atop its head, creating a surreal image and magical atmosphere. (A dancer wearing an old-school diving mask, lit up from within.) In this world, the dancers’ movements are smoothed, the sound is softened, and the colors are less loud, as though diluted by water. They wear mostly nude-colored netted costumes, undulate lightly and gently move through this world of soft contours. At times, they gape fishlike, as though breathing bubbles or producing soundless speech. 

Throughout “Sch.nee”, the dancers pause briefly now and then, gazing fixedly into the audience, inviting the audience further into their world. They raise their fingers to delicately frame the corners of their nose and mouth. ‘Sshhhhh’. The title “Sch.nee” comprises the silencing sound of ‘sshhhh’ and the silent element of ‘snow’, or ‘Schnee’ in German, and the negation ‘no’, or ‘nee’ in German. (Perhaps ‘sshhhhhs.no’ in English would be equivalent.)

In a final section, the dancers appear in mostly white, the earlier colors whited out (by snow?). Their movement is weighted yet sinuous, as though moving through a snowscape. The soundscape is muted, meditative, mesmerizing. Snow absorbs sound. Each dancer suddenly holds a bulging white ball (a snowball?) in their mouth—an unnerving image of being gagged into silence. Yet, the dancers’ gaze remains soft, gentle, at peace with this sound of silence. Almost imperceptibly, the dancers merge into group formations, creating brief living sculptures, before melting away to mould into a new formation elsewhere. One dancer is lifted and carried and held and softly swayed and tumbled in crucifix pose. The sculptures develop and dissolve fluidly with a meditative gracefulness. 

After “Sch.nee”, during Tanznachtisch (an audience talk-back led by members of TanzLOBBY), a small group of audience members shared their impressions from the piece as Nunzio Impellizzeri and manager Manfred Dachs initially listened and later answered questions. What resonated strongly with the audience were the contrasting qualities of sound, movement, costumes, lighting and overall worlds that were created in different sections. These contrasting worlds formed a unity, just as the opposites of sound and silence are part of a whole. Also, innumerable sculptural images remained vivid—white balls protruding from mouths; gaping fish-like mouths; underwater creatures; an eerie light; vibrant colors; the dancers’ gaze; the silencing ‘sssshhhhhh’. The audience received these moving images openly, as gifts brought to life by the dancers through “Sch.nee”. 

Similarly, the initial transition from outside world to performance world, slowed down and with a connection to the dancers, was warmly received. Several audience members indicated being more involved with the individual dancers throughout the piece as a result, viscerally following one dancer or another at different times. At the same time, they found themselves yearning to follow the whole—the melting together of sound, light, colors, collective dancers into distinct world. The experiences, images and worlds brought to life so viscerally by these dancers throughout the 60 minutes of “Sch.nee” were experienced as gifts to be taken along and savored at home. 

A gift that keeps giving in the silence of our homes. 

 
SCH.NEE 
Artistic direction, conception, choreography Nunzio Impellizzeri
Original music Tarek Schmidt 
Dance Federica Aventaggiato, Lionel Ah-Sou, Claudio Costantino, Clémentine Dumas, Loar Labat Berrio, Katharina Ludwig
Light and costume design Nunzio Impellizzeri
Costumes Theama for Dance; Rehearsal direction Irene Andreetto; Outside Eye Silvia Scipilliti; Technical director Viktoras Zemeckas; Production management Manfred Dachs

Family Business Beats the Odds

By Mary Staub, June 2016

Brooklyn, NY

(originally published in the Red Hook Star Revue)

Conventional wisdom often has it that mixing family and business is a route to ruin. Conventional wisdom also often has it that if you are going to start your own business, you might want to enter a field within your expertise. But, conventional wisdom is just that—conventional. And those who fly in the face of convention reap unexpected rewards.

Or thus has been the case with Big Dawg Party Rentals, a local, family-owned-and-operated party equipment rental business that, in less than three years, has gone from idea to go-to source for party equipment in Red Hook, Brooklyn, Manhattan and beyond. Co-owned by a team of two, father-and-son-in-law Michael Giordano and Brendan Quinlan, Big Dawg has gone from cold, empty warehouse on Bowne Street in 2013, to 6’000 square-feet of equipment the first year in operation, to 15’000 square-feet of equipment today. (And they are ready for more.) Big Dawg has gone from being a complete newcomer to being the exclusive vendor for numerous local business (Pioneer Works, Methodist, among them) and  working the recent democratic debate at the Brooklyn Navy Yard.

 “All told about 2000 chairs, 250 tables, we set it all up and took it down in a 24-hour period,” said Giordano. “One of the biggest events in the country. And then we had to go to set up at the Intrepid within 36 hours. We got very little sleep. I looked at my partner and said: you know, I think we’ve made it.”

How did they get from there to here, then to now?

It all began with Wall Street, an engagement party, and a misplaced delivery.

Around 2008, Giordano, who had been working on Wall Street for three decades and ran two corporate brokerage firms, decided he didn’t like the direction Wall Street was taking. So he took stock of where he was and where he was headed. He started playing with the idea of opening his own business.

“I started kicking around a few different businesses,” Giordano said. “And Brendan [my then future son-in-law] was good with technology. So we analyzed four or five different businesses.”

The seed for a party rental business was planted at Quinlan’s engagement party, organized by Giordano and his wife Catherine (whose daughter, Justine, Quinlan was about to marry). “We threw an engagement party,” said Giordano. “And the company we rented equipment from left it on the wrong floor. So we had to shlep all this equipment up to the right floor. They didn’t seem so big on customer service.”

Fast forward to today and you have Big Dawg Party Rentals, whose mission and driving force are just that—customer service. Giordano and Quinlan crunched some numbers and decided to dive in.

“I knew we needed to attack the customer service angle,” said Giordano. “Whether people are in the office or in the field, there’s one rule: customers set the rules so work hard and be nice. At the time, we didn’t know anything about party rental. We just knew that customer service was lacking.”

Since then, Big Dawg’s family of two has expanded to a family of 23, many of whom come from outside the party business. A former lawyer, real estate broker, and interior designer are among the mix. These disparate influences from outside the party business have helped make Big Dawg into what it is today, says Giordano: “The interesting thing about this story is there’s a mixture of five or six people in the administrative part of the industry. Because of that we’re not restrained by the typical things. It creates an interesting dynamic.”

At the same time, there’s a glue that binds the team, said Giordano’s wife, Catherine, who began working with her husband at Big Dawg about a year ago. And this glue is the commitment to customer service.

“The trick is when you grow [as a business], not to forget what was in our mission statement,” said Catherine. “There are really no degrees for party rental specialist and some of it is in one’s make-up. Do we have the patience to talk someone through the process? Do we listen carefully? This is in our DNA.”

It’s this DNA that flows through Big Dawg’s veins and makes the 23 current employees into a family. When new hires come on board, Giordano might say, “we’re gonna be family here and we’re gonna build a business. They look at it and realize it’s something special.”

Another binding force is the fact that more than a quarter of the team are blood family. In addition to Michael and Catherine Giordano, there are Catherine’s son James, her daughter Justine and Michael’s son Patrick who work for the business. (Michael’s other son, Michael, Jr., used to be part of the team, but he recently moved.) James wears many hats, mostly in construction. Justine works in the office. Patrick is about to join full-time after completing a degree in food studies.

So what of conventional wisdom?

“I did think initially, ‘Oh my goodness, this could be challenging,” Catherine said of sharing an office with her husband. “But Michael never really questioned it. He said immediately, ‘I think it’s a great thing. Who am I gonna trust more?’”

Big Dawg’s work is reaching beyond Red Hook and Brooklyn more and more. But their initial focus was on serving the Red Hook community, with a commitment to local businesses and venues and work at Hometown Bar B Q, Liberty Warehouse, local schools, Lobster Shack, and more.

“We concentrated very hard on Red Hook itself,” said Giordano. “It’s an interesting place. It’s done well for us. Brooklyn is a slice of the country. Everyone lives together in a very compatible place.” Or, in the words of Catherine, who grew up in Dyker Heights, “Brooklyn is hot.”

The People Behind the Personas of Coney Island's Mermaids

By Mary Staub, July, 2016

Brooklyn, NY

(originally published in the Red Hook Star-Revue)

On the surface, Coney Island’s Mermaid Parade may seem like it is all about glitz and glam, costumes and crowds, pomp and personas. What has drawn Luke Ratray, a Carroll Gardens photographer, to the parade for the past twenty years, though, is the people behind those personas. Every year since 1996, Ratray has set up his old-fashioned film camera along the Coney Island boardwalk during the parade to find and capture the individuals behind these created identities.

“The pageantry is fun but not as interesting,” said Ratray. “The parade happens because people show up. It happens because people want it to happen. I’m more interested in the personality of those people.”

The images that Ratray has shot of these people over the past twenty years are on view for the first time this summer, through July 24^th, in “Coney Island Mermaids, 1996 – 2016” at the Boerum Hill gallery Urban Folk Art Gallery.

Ratray’s great passion throughout his photographic career has always been for capturing people. And people who create identities for themselves are of particular interest to him. These images often expose more about a person than images of a person standing naked.

“What’s funny is that someone who creates an identity for himself and becomes someone else often reveals more about them,” Ratray said the day before the exhibit’s opening reception last month. 

“They’re telling me more about who they are. My attempt is to always get someone to reveal something of themselves that they normally wouldn’t.”

Ratray shot all of his images in black and white for a reason. First, it was just convenience. (He could develop the images in his own dark room). But after a few years, he realized that black and white was the best way to capture the people behind the mermaid personas. The brash color palette of the Coney Island landscape would easily blind a person’s ability to perceive the subtler nuances of the people that populate that landscape.

“The noisy, chaotic environment of Coney Island can be a distraction; it’s meant to be a distraction, deliberately, meant to be eye candy,” said Ratrey. “I’m trying to photograph the people inside the costumes. By shooting black and white it takes the person out of the environment. If I were shooting color, if there’s a neon Budweiser sign, even across the street, down the block, it will come shouting out at you.”

Similarly, Ratray’s use of film (versus digital) is all in service of bringing out the individual. For him, photography is as much about the process as the product, as much about interaction as image.

“Making portraits on film is a completely different experience both for photographer and subject,” said Ratray. “In terms of interacting with the person [whom your photographing], it’s a very different thing when you’re looking in their eyes and you get them comfortable and then immediately after you take the picture you look into your camera. You break the interaction. People [the subjects] immediately want to see the result, too. But the interaction is almost as important as the picture itself. 

If I’m shooting film, there’s a process, an effort, a bit of mystery because you can’t see the picture right away. Showing someone that I’m making the effort, they treat me differently than someone who’s across the street with a camera and long lens.”

Over the past twenty years, Coney Island has of course changed dramatically with chains such as Applebee’s and It’s Sugar setting up shop. These changes are symbolic of the broader changes that characterize all of New York City, says Ratray, and have also colored the parade itself.

“Because [the parade] is built off the people that show up, it tends to be a microcosmic reflection of the city as a whole,” said Ratray, who grew up in Manhattan and has lived in Carroll Gardens for the past twenty years. “New York City has become a different city in the past twenty years. It’s harder to be a small business, harder to be an artist.”

Ratray sees this reflected in the parade. It has gone from being a small, community event when it first launched in 1983 to being the nation’s largest “art” parade, with more than 3000 creative participants and more than half a million spectators. And this broader appeal has changed its flavor, says Ratray.

“I don’t want to criticize any of it because people are having a good time and doing their thing—and that’s all good,” said Ratray. “But as with anything else, when things grow, with more people showing up, there’ll be less of an element of individual creativity. Not everyone is a hard-core do-it-yourself costumer. There are mermaid costumes being sold in Halloween stores. That’s fine. It means, though, that many people are buying their costume and looking the same. The parade becomes a little watered down.”

But that’s the parade, not necessarily the people who make up the parade. It’s in search of these people behind the personas that Ratray has kept going back year after year. Also, he hopes that what he is doing, his images of individuals, his spotlight on people, his emphasis on creative enterprise will bring the importance of local artists and small business to the fore.

“Coney Island is a place of dwindling small business—I’m a local artist and small business myself, like many others,” said Ratray. “New York City is changing dramatically. I want to encourage people to support small business and local artists.”

So will he ever stop?

“I’ll keep going as long as it remains interesting—interesting to me, that is,” he said, emphasizing that all of this, the images on view and the words spoken were just that: his view—nothing more nothing less.

“Coney Island Mermaids, 1996-2016” at Urban Folk Art Gallery, 101 Smith Street, Boerum Hill, www.urbanfolkart.com Exhibit open daily through July 24, noon-8:30 pm. Free.

Battle of the Decades at Cora's Red Hook Prom

May 6, 2016, By Mary Staub
Brooklyn, NY (originally published in the Red Hook Star-Revue) 

The battle of the decades is coming to Red Hook the first Saturday in May. On May 7th, Cora Dance will throw their 4th Annual Red Hook Prom. Adults can dance the night away until 11 pm, whilst supporting Cora’s pay-what-you-can youth programs, which aim to make dance and artistic expression available and accessible to all. The group’s overall mission is to use the arts to foster understanding and common ground amongst diverse populations.

Red Hook mother and real estate salesperson Elizabeth Ehrhardt is crowned Prom Queen at the first Cora Prom.

This year’s prom is an 1980s versus 1990s dance party battle. Attendees are invited to show their support for their favorite by dressing the part. Throughout the night, attendees can bid for their decade in tip jars stationed throughout the dance hall. A bid count at 10 pm will determine whether local DJ, Robert Lux spins music from the 80s or 90s for the final hour.

“You choose: dress in 80s or 90s style, and meet us on the dance floor for an epic battle of the decades,” Cora’s prom invite proclaims.

This year’s prom is sponsored by Realty Collective, a local real estate company. President, Victoria Hagman chose to support the Prom specifically because Cora has been “very impactful,” and includes a rich diversity of students. “Cora has been instrumental in the neighborhood for a long time,” she said. “Their students are representative of the diversity of the neighborhood.”

“The community they’ve created is for kids that are more creative and specifically interested in dance. As a youth, it’s important for kids to have a place to really be expressive,” Hagman said. She also noted that Cora’s programming extends to all kinds of dance for each individual student’s preferences and personality.

King and Queen
The prom takes place in the gym of the local South Brooklyn Community High School (SBCHS). Drinks and nibbles will be featured from local favorites Botta di Vino, Sixpoint Brewery, Hometown BBQ, and Court Street Grocers. The event will also include a beauty station by the Gowanus-based Elements Hair Studio and a silent auction. The “Red Hook Royalty,” selected for their volunteer work for Cora over the past year, will officially be coronated.

Prom King and Queen are Scott Pfaffman and Nahisha McCoy, both parents of Cora youth students. King Pfaffman, a local contractor, is being honored for the pro bono work he provided when Cora moved into their new space last year on the second-floor of Red Hook Ministries. He and his workers replaced the floors, installed heaters and a new fridge, and built cabinetry.

Queen McCoy is being crowned for her role as lead volunteer for Cora. She picks up children from local schools and brings them to Cora for after-school dance programs, helps organize other volunteers, and distributes flyers.

But why a prom? Shannon Hummel, Cora’s Founder and Artistic Director, came up with the idea when she was looking for ways to have a gala fundraiser geared towards locals. And, she thought, who doesn’t like a prom? Especially a prom devoid of teen angst and inhibition.

“We wanted to have a gala fundraiser. Shannon wanted a way to involve the community and everyone who is involved with Cora, not just big funders,” said Kelsey Kramer, Cora Dance’s Communications Manager.

The evening is focused on dancing. Cora’s Youth and Professional Companies will perform, but guests are also encouraged to shake it down on the dance floor.
“It’s mainly a dance party—that’s pretty much what it is,” said Kramer. “It’s mostly centered on dancing and having a good time.”
Admission to the Red Hook Prom is $100, or pay-what-you-can with a $5 minimum. For tickets and more information, visit coradance.org/red-hook-prom.

Private School Enters Red Hook

March 4, 2016, By Mary Staub

Brooklyn, NY (originally published in the Red Hook Star-Revue) 

Sitting between Red Hook Park and the Brooklyn Community Farm and just steps from Ikea and the Red Hook Houses, Basis Independent school opened its doors in Red Hook last September on the corner of Columbia and Bay Streets. Basis, a K-12 private school, is run by a corporation that operates charter schools in the Midwest. 

Parents picking up their children at BASIS last September. (photo by George Fiala)

When plans for the new school first came to light in 2013, Red Hook residents and community members were split in their opinions of the school; with community members petitioning both for and against its locating to an industrial zone in Red Hook.

That December, critics speaking out at a Community Board 6 meeting argued that the 1000-seat private school was inappropriate for the working-class neighborhood that surrounded it.

Red Hook business owners worried it would obstruct traffic flow in the area and interfere with local industrial growth. In response, community supporters of the school initiated a petition on Change.org, which argued the school would bring jobs to the neighborhood, make its auditorium available to the community, and would offer a small number of local scholarships to the local community.

Now, about six months after the school opened in Red Hook, where do things stand?

BASIS students celebrate the 100th day of classes in the Red Hook school. (photo courtesy of the BASIS Independent Brooklyn Facebook page)

Curiosity and questions abound. 

Henrietta Perkins is a resident of the Red Hook Houses who has been active in community affairs. She spoke in support of BASIS back in 2014.She showed great surprise when asked about the school in February.

“I didn’t even know it had opened,” said Perkins. Two years ago, meanwhile, she had advocated alongside the plot’s landowner for approval of construction of the school because, as she said, “Why would people be against a school?”

Now, she has questions. She wonders about the school in general, whether indeed any Red Hook children have enrolled, and whether any rooms are ever available to locals. “This is a secret school,” said Perkins. “I never see anyone down there.”

The school’s website gives some insight. Students come to the school from Battery Park City, Brighton Beach, the Upper East Side, Flushing and everywhere in between, according to their page. Buses transport children to and from the school in the mornings and afternoons. Whether local children have enrolled at the school, though, remains unclear.

When contacted in February, school officials, who are currently busy with admissions for the 2016-17 term, promised to provide more insight at a later date when they had more “bandwidth” to devote to the local newspaper. They also promised a tour.

In the meantime, it can be learned from the website that information sessions for prospective students and their families are being held on various days for distinct grade levels throughout March.

At $24,000 per year, the private school costs about half as much as most other New York City private schools. It recently announced a limited High School Merit Scholarship Program based on performance and need. Videos and articles on the school blog show kindergartners learning Mandarin, and middle schoolers exploring the moon and Greece via virtual reality.

While this information, and more, is available online, locals are not in the loop.

Lillie Marshall, president of the Red Hook West Tenants Association, said, “I don’t know anything about the school – I have no idea what’s going on. Usually, anything that comes to Red Hook, we hear about or it is talked about. I just see the buses bringing kids and buses picking kids up.” Marshall had opposed the construction of the school in 2014.

The BASIS gym. Photo from BASIS International Brooklyn’s Facebook page.

Natasha Campbell, of Red Hook’s Summit Academy, indicated interaction between the two schools had been basically non-existent, but would be of interest.

“As Executive Director of this school I have yet to be contacted by BASIS Independent School,” said Campbell, adding, in the same breath, that she had not yet reached out to them, either. “But we welcome communication. And we would welcome opportunity to collaborate, should it arise.”

While BASIS is definitely in the community, it might not yet be of the community.