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Singing Ballads of Books off Broadway

10 Jul

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When you walk into Lyrical Ballad Bookstore on Phila Street in downtown Saratoga Springs, the first thing you notice is that familiar smell of words on paper, some of them old and some of them new. You are surrounded by books on shelves, books on the floor, books everywhere you look, and they are packed so tightly that it’s not always quite clear where one book stops and another begins. There is a mythological, or perhaps Jim Henson-ian, labyrinthine feel to the space, and while you won’t likely meet a minotaur stalking its next victim among the winding stacks, you will surely find its literary embodiment waiting to be devoured by one of the voracious readers who have regularly visited the shop since it opened in October of 1971.

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As an 8 year resident of Saratoga Springs I am embarrassed to admit that this was my first visit to this downtown institution. I’ve often walked by it in a rush to get somewhere else while reminding myself every time I passed it to stop in the next time I found myself with some free time. I’m happy that that day finally came on a sunny afternoon in early April. It was then that I walked into 7 Phila
Street and almost didn’t find my way out.

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When John DeMarco, a Saratoga County native fresh out of college with a degree in literature burning a hole in his pocket, decided to open a bookstore in downtown Saratoga, I doubt he could have predicted that his shop would grow in ways that indicate it may have had a plan of its own, a plan to infiltrate all of the hidden corners of downtown Saratoga. It began as a small shop that was “cheap and available” according to John. However, as John and his wife Janice developed relationships with his neighbors and as spaces around Lyrical Ballad have gone out of business (the gallery of famous Saratoga photographer George Bolster, for instance) or moved to larger, more modern accommodations, new rooms have seemingly sprouted up on their own where once there were solid walls. They appear to go on forever almost like the five-and-a-half-minute hallway from Mark Danielewski’s House of Leaves. There were several moments as I found myself wandering aimlessly among the volumes when I wondered if I shouldn’t be leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in order to find my
way back. Meanwhile, on the list of coolest places for a store to keep their more valuable inventory are two former bank vaults that harken back to days when Saratoga National Bank was housed on the corner of Phila and Broadway. There is a deep rooted sense of history in this building, and I picture the books as living entities feeding off of the remnant energy of days gone by.

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While the building layout may have morphed and expanded over the years, one thing that hasn’t changed is the excitement and respect that John and Janice have for the written word. Their appreciation for the service they provide is evident in the reverence with which they speak about their business. Don’t talk about Kindles and Nooks in here (unless the nooks you’re referring to are one of the many places where you can sit down and read that first edition Hardy Boys book you never got to finish). This is a temple to creativity in all shapes and forms: new, old, science fiction, historical non-fiction, reference, and children’s stories. There are boxes full of prints and illustrations depicting life in the early days of the Capital Region. There are song books, Broadway scripts, cook books, and boxes of antique postcards available for purchase from all over the world with messages from people who likely now only exist as memories. The oldest items owned by the DeMarco’s and likely locked away in one of those former bank vaults are two rare books. One is, very fittingly, a book of horses from 1535, and the other is a book on Italian architecture dated 1580. Forget Yaddo, folks. I’m convinced that any writer in residence would find more than their fair share of inspiration among these accumulated works of authors from across the globe.

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Of course, the big question is how does Lyircal Ballad continue to remain relevant in our increasingly digital world? The DeMarco’s attribute their continued success to customer loyalty and a community that supports small business. They have regular visitors who return time and again to see what they may have missed on their last adventure through the stacks, and they also have seasonal clientele who show up along with the New York City Ballet and the Philadelphia Orchestra. The racetrack, of course, brings its own set of characters. However they do recognize that they, like many independent business owners, are working harder than ever to stay afloat. Beyond the tangible storefront, they provide a unique appraisal service to people from all over New York and New England. For example, when someone with a significant library passes away they are often contacted by family members to come in an determine how much the library is worth. Currently they are working with an individual who lost his entire library in a fire and needs appraisal figures for his insurance company. It is a service that not many people offer, and they have definitely found their niche. Additionally, they buy worthy items from individuals who come in to the shop looking for some quick cash. On this particular day there was a gentleman attempting to sell a monochromatic print from the mid to late 1800’s depicting a child in a desert surrounded by a menagerie of lions, tigers, and bears (oh my!). As I said, the inventory is diverse.

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We live in a world that grows more and more technologically connected and interpersonally disconnected everyday at a speed that can sometimes be overwhelming. We easily disregard the simple joys in life as frivolous or unnecessary, and we are often more concerned with getting the best deal rather than supporting those small business in our community who are struggling more than ever to survive. We download books at the touch of a button, and we forget that there is treasure out there, bound on paper just waiting to be discovered. I invite you to stop in and visit John and Janice on your next trip to Saratoga Springs. I know they would be happy to have you. While you’re there, look for an armoire that I’m certain if explored under the right conditions would lead you right to Mr. Tumnus drinking tea in C.S. Lewis’s Narnia. Just don’t forget your breadcrumbs.

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Lyrical Ballad Bookstore
7 Phila St
Saratoga Springs, NY 12866
(518) 584-8779

My First Photo Show

9 Mar

Growing up in Cohoes and attending La Salle in Troy left me more connected to the suburbs than anywhere else. My closest friends came from North Greenbush, or Latham, or Clifton Park, and that’s where we chose to hang out (mostly because we were geeks that liked sitting in basements and playing video games. That’s a different post.). We were spread out all over the place, and because of this I never really had the opportunity to explore our more urban environs until early adulthood. Actually, attending grad school at UAlbany in the early 2000’s was my first real introduction to all that the city of Albany has to offer, and since then I have had a completely hopeless crush on our state capital. Don’t get me wrong! I enjoy living in Saratoga Springs, but whether I’m eating at one of the many ethnic restaurants, seeing a show at The Egg, wandering around the Empire State Plaza, or catching up with friends at a Lark St. watering hole, I am happy that I always have Albany to come back to.

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I’ve given you this brief personal history lesson because this week I was able to hang my first photography show ever at the Spectrum Theatre. This independent movie house, an Albany institution, speaks to the importance of locally owned and operated businesses contributing to the revitalization of an area. I am so excited to display my work in the lobby of the theatre, to be a part of the downtown area that I have come to enjoy and so much want to be a part of. It really is amazing for me to think that my photographs are actually on display in a public place. It may seem like a small achievement to some, but for me it is the tangible realization of something that simply brings me joy. What more could a person ask for?

A little bit about the show – Faces of China
There are places in the world where I am fairly certain I will never set foot. They are completely foreign places where the people speak languages that bear no resemblance to my own, the smells are as strange to my nose as the language is to my ears, and the food touches taste buds that have sat around bored for my entire life. For some people a trip to China is a commonplace occurrence. For me, China was about as far away from home as I could ever think of traveling.  If you had asked me several years ago what the likelihood was that I would be walking across the Great Wall on a damp April afternoon, my answer would have been a definitive “slim to none.” Two years later I am still regularly amazed at all that I experienced during that 10 day school trip with 15 wide-eyed American teenagers by my side.

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In the end, it was the Chinese people who made the experience truly special. They were some of the friendliest citizens that I have encountered in all of my travels, and they were genuinely intrigued by our presence in their country. I’m sure we were a sight to behold: 21 Americans moving in unison, all with our cameras out, staring wide-eyed at everything we encountered. It was pretty commonplace for the Chinese to follow us around like paparazzi, snapping photos of us in many different states of tourist-ness. We were as foreign to them as they were to us, and it created a sort of sightseeing ballet. We would move forward and they would move around us, always smiling, always interested in where we would go next. I hope I have captured their welcoming nature and their quiet curiosity in these photos.

I hope you have the time to stop by, see a movie, support an amazing local business, and take a look at my pictures. The show runs through April 17th, and it will be up for Albany’s 1st Friday celebration on April 6th. Check out my event page on Facebook, too.

Many thanks to: My wife Amy for (mostly) happily supporting me every time I bring a new camera into our already crowded house and for always encouraging me to go after what I want in life; My friends who put up with me constantly sticking cameras in their faces; Sebastien and Bennett for encouraging some stranger from the Internet to go out and shoot and for setting the bar high for Capital District photography; and All Over Albany for giving me the opportunity to write, share my photos, and generally express myself in ways that seemed improbable in the past. You all rock!

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P.S. My grandmother says hi to The Internet!

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P.P.S If your mother shows up to your show early, this is what happens.

The Plaza

22 Feb

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There’s something mesmerizing about the Empire State Plaza. You probably won’t admit it, so I’ll do it for you. You, all of you Capital Region residents, you actually enjoy coming here, but you’re not sure why. Don’t worry. I feel the same way, and I’m trying to work through it. The vast expanse of concrete, the bad modern art (some with dangerously sharp moving parts), the abyss-like reflecting pools (don’t get too close!), and the potential jumping off point for the coming zombie apocalypse make the Governor Nelson A. Rockefeller Empire State Plaza unappealing at first glance. But there’s something else, isn’t there? It’s something that makes me want to wander around as if there is a huge secret hidden among the pebbled walkways and white marble retaining walls that many have searched for but never found. It’s waiting to be discovered, and I want to be the one to discover it.

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One thing is for sure. It’s a landmark that is unmistakably Albany. I can’t remember the number of times I sighed with relief as a kid upon seeing that unique skyline as we pulled onto I-787 from the NYS Thruway headed to my house in Cohoes after a very long road trip. I was almost home, and I could not WAIT to get out of the family minivan (we are a gassy bunch). Or perhaps I associated it with childhood visits to the NYS museum where I took a great amount of pleasure simply planting myself in their refurbished subway car, imagining myself speeding under that other city in New York that many people mistake for our capital. Even now, as I sit here typing this, I can’t pinpoint what it is about the Plaza that intrigues me so, but intrigue me it certainly does.

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Maybe it’s simply trying to figure out what people were thinking as they designed it that keeps me coming back. I imagine a group of men with thick, horn-rimmed glasses and pocket-protected white short-sleeve dress shirts standing around a table thinking “How much concrete can we dump in the middle of this city before somebody calls our bluff?” Was this just a product of the times, a design born from a typical 1950′s architectural mind where rock and steel represented strength, tried and true blue-blooded American stoicism? Or was it Rockefeller’s silent thumb-to-the-nose at bleak Soviet-era design? We’ll show those commies! We’ll build there buildings here, and then they won’t want to build them like that anymore! Nyah nyah!

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I’m reading into it too much, aren’t I?

You do have to admit that there is something very Stalinistic about the vibe there: everything in its place, emotionless, unwavering. Is that a bread line snaking out of the Justice Building?? But then look at it again. There’s symmetry and wide open spaces. There’s fresh, open air in a somewhat stagnant downtown area. There are….some trees. It’s an experiment in opposites! I’m certainly no student of design, but there’s a dichotomy here that intrigues me and evokes emotion. I wonder if someone can help me figure out why that is?

The Concourse, unfortunately, is a lost cause.

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Haunting the Capitol

2 Nov

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There are spaces in the Capital Region that will always leave me feeling a bit uneasy: my grandmother’s cellar, Guptill’s skating rink, all of Clifton Park. Ever since I was a kid I’ve expected that if the end of the world had to pick a location to begin, it would choose the Concourse level of the Empire State Plaza in Albany. I’m not sure if it’s the sterile whiteness of it all or the fact that it seems like every bad piece of modern art goes there to die. Whatever the reason, even at 31 I get the proverbial heebie-jeebies while traversing those wide open underground byways.

That’s why it’s so fitting that a main entrance to the New York State Capitol Building, one of the most beautiful structures in Albany, sits above this shiny smooth bastion of soullessness; this juxtaposition of late 19th Century artistry and architecture holding down the throbbing emptiness of mid-20th Century blah.

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How have I never entered this building? My entire life spent in the Capital Region, and I’ve completely missed out. You’d think I would have gone there on an elementary school field trip at some point, but apparently not. Instead I explored it for the first time on Halloween this year hoping to see a ghost or maybe a governor (or in the very least a governor’s girlfriend). No dice this time. Instead, what I found was a place filled with history, hallways, and lots of hand-carved heads.

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The Capitol Building is quite a stunner, with its sandstone carvings and million dollar staircase. When first designed it was predicted that the building could be built in 3 years for approximately $5 million. Turns out it took 32 years at a whopping $25 million, which today would be equivalent to about $500 million. I guess the state had spending issues even back in the late 1800′s. There’s your precedent, Occupy Albany folks.

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How could the Million Dollar Staircase (named for, as you may have  guessed, its hefty price tag) not be my most favorite spot in this entire building? I was so mesmerized by the intricate work done by the stone masons who carved art out of the sandstone that I almost did exactly what our tour guide told us not to do: tumbled to my death. Note to self – Look down when plodding toward a monstrous, seemingly man-made indoor escarpment.  Crisis averted by, of course, my cat-like reflexes. As I regained my balance, our guide continued to talk about the famous and not-so-famous faces carved into the staircase that appear to be pushing their way out of a stony prison (my ultimate nightmare). The detail on these carvings are unbelievable, right down to wrinkled brows and double chins. Two of the most famous faces you’ll see belong to a couple of men who played a large role in saving us from the potential of a country ruled by Southerners, Presidents Lincoln and Grant, their sullen faces looking down at us as if to say “Get it together, New York.”

No matter how strong my completely and utterly irrational phobia of statues is, even I can admit the tremendous skill it took to complete this project.

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Did they see a ghost?

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Nope. They always look like that.

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This was a relatively short tour at about an hour long, and there are a number of places that we weren’t able to see.  While we did spend some time learning about the origins of the Capitol’s ghost stories, the craftsman who fell to his death while working on the ceiling in the Assembly Chamber, the caretaker who burned to a crisp in a fourth floor fire, and the fruit seller who willingly plummeted to his ultimate demise off of the Senate staircase after his business went under, I would have loved to have simply sat on a bench in one of the expansive hallways and waited for a spirit to wander my way. I guess now I have a reason to go back. Meanwhile, I’d truy enjoy being able to witness an active session of our legislature. Now THAT would be a true horror show!

Picturing Washington County

27 Sep

A couple of weeks ago I traveled around Washington County on a tour of cheese making farms. I wrote about it here. As an addendum to my summary on All Over Albany, I thought I’d (finally) put up some of the pictures from what turned out to be one of the nicest days I’ve had in a while. After all, this is supposed to be a photo blog, right? No words. Just pictures. Enjoy (and explore it yourself before autumn runs away)!

 

Tellin’ Tales in Troy

10 Aug

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One of the best things about living in the Capital District is that there is a lot going on as long as you’re willing to explore a bit. Sometimes, for me, that means hitting the Northway headed south and leaving Saratoga to the floppy hats, Connecticut license plates, and white pants of summer. While I certainly love living in Saratoga Springs, my life would definitely not be as rich if I stayed put all the time. On any given day, especially in the summer, you could find me eating Indian cuisine on Central Ave., exploring a wholesale food warehouse in Menands, or seeing a movie at The Spectrum. Now I can add attending a storytelling night to my list. Tonight was my first experience at the Front Parlor Storytelling Night at The Ale House on River Street in Troy, and I had a blast. The format was simple (put your name in a coffee can, and tell a 5 minute story based around the theme for the night if your name is picked), the room was packed, and the atmosphere was all about getting to know your neighbors. It was clear to me that this has become a regular monthly event for many of the people in the room, and there were a few, like me, who were attending for the first time.

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Just in case you have no idea what this is all about you may want to explore what I believe to be the authority on all things storytelling: The Moth Podcast. I happen to love this form of entertainment, and I really am excited that people are exploring this medium of expression north of New York City. However, the big difference between The Ale House’s storytelling night and events like The Moth is that there is no competition in Troy. This is a group of people getting together simply to enjoy listening to tales of the human experience. Nobody loses, and everybody wins. Tonight’s theme was “scars.”  It was funny, touching, sad, happy, and just a little bit bloody, as you can imagine. Stories ran the gamut from a 20-something girl who was trampled by horses to a  thirteen-ish year old boy who was traumatized by vomit at summer camp. And then there’s Eddie!

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One of the things to keep in mind when attending a storytelling night is that even though things get started around 7:30pm, you should get there earlier. The room is small, and seats are at a premium. Tonight I was with my friend Chris, and there happened to be two empty seats at Eddie’s table. Everything else was either taken or reserved. Luckily for us, Eddie graciously allowed us to sit with him, and I was definitely not disappointed. You want stories? This guy has stories! But then what should I expect  from a 90 year old lifelong Capital Region resident who fought in WWII? Everyone in the place seemed to know Eddie, and apparently this isn’t his first rodeo. He’s been up at the mic a few times telling stories, and tonight was no exception. If you happen to run into him some night sitting at the bar, ask him about his Jaguar XK140 Roadster. Basically, what I’m saying is that Eddie is a guy I could hang with.

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The organizer of Front Parlor Storytelling is Abby Lublin, a woman who  no doubt has had experience inspiring a community to act. She did an amazing job emceeing the night, always keeping things moving forward. She clearly knew how to read the crowd, and it was immediately evident that she loves the close knit feel that has been fostered through this monthly event. My favorite Abby quote of the night: “Listening is a gift of love.” Word, Abby.

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If you couldn’t tell I’m just a little bit excited by what I experienced on River Street tonight. I will definitely be going back to as many second Tuesdays as I can, and I plan on bringing friends. Maybe I’ll even step up to the microphone myself. Next month’s theme is “first impressions” of which I have had many. Time to start thinking…

Visiting the Playland

6 Jul

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If you were a kid in the Capital Region at any point over the last 50 years or so then you are most likely familiar with Hoffman’s Playland in Latham. Hoffman’s is a bit of a landmark in this area, especially for those citizens who have ever fallen in with the under 10 crowd. A family owned amusement park with carnival-type rides, a video arcade, and enough fried/cheesy/sugary food to power an army of tweens in the battle to make texting our sole form of communication, this place is unique. If you haven’t been there you are truly missing out. I have so many memories that begin with my family’s minivan pulling into the parking lot and me promptly getting freaked out by the huge clown staring down at me from the flashing sign letting me know I had indeed arrived at Hoffman’s Playland. One of these memories may center around a hit-less season of little league and a promise of a book of tickets to Hoffman’s if I concentrated really hard and got just one hit. Bribery does amazing things for batting averages, apparently.

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Fast-forward about 8 years, and you would find me right back at Hoffman’s. However, this time I am the goofy looking 16 year old sitting behind the controls of the caterpillar ride, or the helicopters, or even the dreaded boats (never give 3 year-olds free and unlimited access to bells). I spent 5 full summers working as a ride operator, and by the time I left I could run them all with my eyes closed (but I NEVER did Mr. Hoffman, I swear!). And not only did I work there, but so, it seemed, did half of the teenage population of the Latham-Troy-Cohoes area. To this day it is nearly impossible to go anywhere in Latham without being able to find someone that spent at least one season working at “the Playland.” We had a lot of fun, we learned the virtues of smiling even on 95 degree August scorchers, and I especially understood the importance of becoming friends with the girls who worked in food service! In my opinion, Hoffman’s was and still is the perfect summer job. We worked 5-hour shifts that didn’t begin until 12:00pm, got to look really cool driving the train (my personal specialty and also how I met my wife – a story for another time), and a select few of us were even taught the important life skill of being able to jump on and off of a moving carousel without falling. Of course my first attempt at this involved being knocked on my butt by a passing pole while trying to  look cool and impress the much older girl who was training me. It didn’t work.

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Now that I’m all grown up and summers seem to speed by much more quickly than they used to, I still enjoy going back to Hoffman’s every now and then. The owners treated me very well both during and after my tenure as a ride operator, and I enjoy stopping in to say hello. Additionally, I would be lying if I didn’t admit that I love a good spin on the tilt-a-whirl, and, really, who doesn’t enjoy the violence veiled in fun that is the bumper cars? This place is American tradition through and through, a huge part of my own personal history, and I truly hope it continues to stand the test of time.

Meanwhile, right now I enjoy taking my 4 year-old nephew on the rides, and perhaps someday I’ll have my own kids to regale with stories about how I was just too big to fit into the striped conductor overalls when I drove the train, but they still made me wear the goofy hat anyway.

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