Rare moments of pure New York

Despite what this blog might have you believing, a lot of my life here in New York is quite similar to the lives I have led in Sydney, Melbourne and London -- a combination of work, sleep and mild entertainment. In New York a movie is still a movie, hanging out with friends is, likewise, no different, and although there are some phenomenally good restaurants here, it’s not altogether different from the quality dining you might be lucky enough to experience anywhere else. But every so often, I still have one of those typically New York moments, and it’s thrilling enough to keep me living here until the next one. So what’s a typically New York thing? I’ll give you an example. Last year a photographer friend of mine invited me to an evening showcasing the work of a collaborative group of artists, which he belonged to. It was in Brooklyn. In typical fashion, some friends and I took a subway to a quiet station, walked a few blocks into a darkened suburban street and after a few wrong turns, finally found an unmarked door that led to a seemingly abandoned space on the second floor of a run-down building. Inside, the mood was lively. Artsy folks, dressed colourfully, mixed it with hipster geeks in heavy-framed glasses. People were sipping beer or wine, which was dispensed from giant flagons. Some space-cake made the rounds. There was art on the walls, and before long a band began playing. Then there was a poetry reading and the barefoot performance of a modern dance routine. It was an artsy Brooklyn party, just as it is supposed to be. But all too often, entertainment in this city can be fairly bland. Admittedly, it’s probably my own fault. I don’t go and see nearly as many Off-Off-Broadway shows as I know I should. (But, in my defence, that’s probably because my time is often scarce, and the quality of such productions can be hit-and-miss.) However, I was tempted by one production, after reading a New York Times write-up, because it seemed almost certain to yield one of those elusive New York experiences: the truly innovative, independent-theatre show. In an act of exquisite self-reflection, “The Sublet Experiment” is about the experience of subletting and actually takes place in a series of strangers’ apartments. Every few nights, the production moves venue to a new apartment, in a new neighbourhood, donated for the evening in the name of art. With audiences limited to 12 per show (after all, NY apartments are hideously small), each audience member has the chance to do more than just observe the acted experience of voyeurism in a sublet apartment. They too are the voyeurs. And more than this, each audience member also becomes a part of the show. You’re left thinking: “I wonder what business he’s in. Are those two a couple? Why is that girl here all alone?” More than a mere gimmick, the play (written by Ethan Youngerman) is well scripted and the actors are talented and sympathetic. It was a one hour and 45 minute show, with no interval, so the audience is advised to use the bathroom beforehand. They are also invited to grab a beer from the fridge, “but not those on the fridge door” since they were props for the actors. Yet, what makes the show so compelling is the subject of subletting itself. So many New Yorkers have found themselves in a sublet at some stage of their life here. Many choose to never give up the arrangement. Along with the short-term furnished rental, a sublet is a unique adventure of discovery. It’s the chance to live, almost, inside another person’s skin: sleep in their bed, eat on their dishes, sometimes even walk their dog (it depends on the deal). Turning this subject into a work of art seemed so beautiful in my eyes. When I left the tiny Chelsea apartment I was flushed with excitement. It was thanks to the experience of great art in a great city, and dealing with a subject that I was intimately accustomed to. I too, was once a subletter.