Too many cooks in Coney Island's kitchen

Ahh, Coney Island-- tits, robots and weiners-- As Carly would sing, it's the stuff that dreams are made of.

Just got back from tonight's rabble rousin' meeting of the minds at the Municipal Art Society's first public symposium on the ever growing uncertain fate of Coney Island. They've launched a new website, Imagine Coney, whereupon anyone, anywhere, anytime can put their two cents in on how we can begin to restore the illustrious shine of yesteryear to the boardwalk. Alas, tonight's meeting featured lots of people crammed into the beautiful Brooklyn Academy of Music Cafe hoovering free beer and cheese, talking loudly on their cell phones, kvetching with their neighbors, all while Municipal Art Society representatives were trying to give a presentation. So much for open minds, and for staying on message.

There's still lots of bad blood between the old timers and the new timers -- i.e., the elephant in the room being the one true enemy-- that of Thor Equities. Unforunately for the well-meaning Municipal Art Society, which was doing a valiant effort at bridging the gap between the polar opposites, tonight's message of revitalization and a possible bright future of foot longs, vertigo-inducing death drops, and fried clams was met with a resounding chorus of "Daay toock arr jaahbs." (Best South Park Ep. Ever) Truthfully, it's not necessarily job loss, but an influx of the "new" that is scaring the long time residents who are trying to hold on to a memory, and a good one at that. But the open forum format with people waiting in the wings to ask a question (rarely) or comment (lots of those) "I love Coney. I've lived here all my life..." came about feeling like there's just too many cooks in the kitchen. And the sad fact of the matter is, all this is after the fact. Astroland is now a thing of the past. There's simply no turning back. But there were many interesting ideas put forth-- of which, yes, were ROBOT WRESTLING (AWWWW, yeah), a giant concert pavillion to lure the next Bonnaroo, and HUMAN PAC-MAN to tide us over until a permanent solution arises.

Unfortunately, for all the great ideas, one big thing is lacking-- how on earth are they going to get funding for any of this? Truthfully, this couldn't have come at a worse time. Corporate sponsors? I think thee not.

The funniest idea tonight came from one of the presenters who wants to restore the long-forgotten Shore Theater into the world's first Sing-A-Long venue. Sounds like a fantastic idea-- if you're hard of hearing.

In the meantime, below, check out the best idea submitted yet.




Trevor, I think you've got something there.

Kota Ezawa at Murray Guy

 

Ever had an art opening all to yourself for a major museum level artist? I did this past Saturday night at the Kota Ezawa exhibition "Multiplex" at Murray Guy in Chelsea. Taking place right in the middle of the worst remnants of Tropicle Storm Hannah, this reviewer cooled her heels for a bit behind the black curtains and dried out to a truly fantastic work of social commentary by the San Francisco-based artist. Ezawa is always great at breaking down the wall between artist and audience, (take his previous O.J. Simpson jury verdict piece that brilliantly held a moment in history in rapture) and his new piece "Brawl" is no exception. A frame-by-frame digitized recreation of the Detroit Pistons/Indiana Pacers bench-clearing smackdown that moved from the court into the stands, Ezawa is able to recreate the moment in painstaking detail with the slow motion of his editing and focus on the sights and sounds of that painful day. I like how the rotoscope animation effects of Ezawa's works flatten every player to an almost cardboard cutout quality. Similar to the painted single-frame technique of animation, including the fairly recent Richard Linklater film, "A Scanner Darkly," Ezawa is a master of his craft.

The piece is given a soundtrack of narration from sportcasters that was originally broadcast throughout the fight, from its initial start on the floor from a foul by Piston forward Ron Artest, eventually making its way into the stands. You see the separation between players and fans in literal black and white, with not only the viewpoints of the fight participants, but also in the skin color of fans vs. the players. Much as the gladiators fought to the death in the Roman Colliseum to the delight of the plutocracy, so, too, must these young men in uniforms perform for their paying crowd. Though they have achieved wealth and celebrity beyond their wildest dreams, here they are still taunted as "boys," or "hoodlums" by the beer-swilling, cup-throwing, pullover sweater-clad season ticket holders. Here was a moment of fracture-- duck feathers could no longer apply. Perhaps it was a fight for respect, as well as for domination, machismo and bravado. The invisible wall that separates the performer from audience had been barreled over. The clock would not be turned back.

After the numerous suspensions and fines on the players from both sides, it is now considered to be a dubious moment in sports history, but Ezawa does a fantastic job at bringing it back to the forefront. It is a historical moment not to be forgotten.

For more information, go to http://www.murrayguy.com