STORY: Sense of Loss
By LuLu LoLo
Coming out of the long period of loss and isolation from the Pandemic lockdown – it was with a sense of anticipation and adventure that I began walking along 14th Street wondering which AiOP artists I would encounter along the way.
At Seventh Avenue I spot an assortment of patterned neckties. Wes Holloway’s “Community Ties” are attached to a chain-link fence that immediately brings to mind my father, Pete Pascale who passed away in 1997, and his wonderful collection of ties, many of them selected and gifted to him by me.
(Photo by LuLu LoLo)
Most of the ties displayed came to Wes from women whose husbands had passed away. I shared with Wes that my dear friend the writer Joanna Claps Herman at the memorial celebration reception for her husband Bill Herman offered all the guests one of Bill’s neck ties in his memory.
My father would often ask my help in selecting a necktie and I would watch him as he tied his necktie, but he never taught me how to tie one. Maybe it was a skill he didn’t think I would need to know because I was a girl. Wes told me he wasn’t taught how to tie a necktie at the rehabilitation center after he suffered his spinal cord injury. It was subtly inferred that he wouldn’t need to wear a tie because he wouldn’t be working at a job that would require wearing a tie.
Wes asked me if I would like to learn how to tie a necktie. I carefully selected a tie from the fence just like I did from my father’s tie rack looking at the back labels, reading the name brands, and noting if they were silk ties. Picking a blue and white striped one I draped it over Wes’ neck and step by step together we did it! I tied a necktie. I look forward to tying my father’s paisley necktie that I treasure around my neck.
(Photo by Valborg Fletre Linn)
Suddenly Heather Reed appeared and immediately demonstrated that Heather could indeed tie a necktie.
(Photo by Valborg Fletre Linn)
On the corner of Sixth Avenue, a rack of clothing captures my attention.
(Photo by LuLu LoLo)
There is a flurry of excitement as participants select from Ana De Orbegoso’s sidewalk closet of “Power Vests (Feminist Projections)” that bring to mind Joan of Arc’s battle armor. “The Power Vests “are emblazed with powerful statements supporting women’s rights: “My Body My Right”, “Stop Violence Against Women”, “Yes She Persisted”. A sense of urgency prevails the atmosphere on 14th Street as everyone dunned a vest and struck a pose for their photo op. This act is more important than ever before as we all try to preserve the rights we fought for and deserve.
(Photo by Unknown)
Walking along I arrive at a favorite address 218 West 14th Street a wave of nostalgia, sadness, and loss overcome me as I discover the new business that now occupies the former location of the unique vintage store Rags Au Go Go.
(Photo by LuLu LoLo)
Owned by the charismatic Joshua Suzanne longtime supporter of AiOP. Rags Au Go Go was the AiOP community gathering space and the site for the opening night receptions.
(Photo by Paul Takeuchi)
(Opening of AiOP 2019: INVISIBLE. From left to right front row: Billy X Curmano, LuLu LoLo, Joshua Suzanne, Furusho von Puttkammer .Back row: Laura Droguol, Ed Woodham, Ron Kolm, Barbara Lubliner. Photo by Paul Takeuchi)
The Pandemic lockdown and its economic effect on small businesses in New York City caused Joshua Suzanne to pack up and move to Florida. Before the festival I reached out to Joshua Suzanne, leaving a voice message inquiring if a return to New York City for AiOP was possible? Joshua Suzanne texted back: “Good morning 🌈 Got your VM Wish I was with you and all of the amazing AIOP artists 👩🎨 Have a great time and give 14th street and that crazy apple 🍎 a big hug and kiss 😘”
As I turned away from number 218, I encounter Christopher Kaczmarek with a seven-foot building strapped to his back.
(Photo by LuLu LoLo)
“Carry On: The Labor of Our Burdens” is about “the stories of our lives (our identities) contained in the places we inhabit and things we carry with us, in both literal and figurative ways.” The Pandemic highlighted the accumulation of our lives and the attachment of our memories. Many artists could no longer afford their studios and were faced with saving or discarding their artistic work and materials. Some of us became obsessive with tossing, recycling, and organizing via the Marie Kondo method. Many of us with older parents are now confronted with the task of distributing their memories —but where to? What of all the people who fled New York City when the Pandemic began pretty much with their houses on their backs. What did they leave behind? What did they carry away? For myself I am surrounded with my collections, my memories, my archives, my artwork, my reference material, and my numerous books. It is all “MY” stuff. Is it now a burden? I am also carrying around on my back
“What do we keep? What is the scale and weight of that which we carry with us? We fill the space we have, and then look to add a little more… We persevere through an ongoing balance of carrying and shedding.
We endure.”
(Photo by Julian Dorsey)
(Photo by Paul Takeuchi)
LuLu LoLo has been a visual/performance artist/playwright/actor and activist for over twenty-five years. LuLu has performed in six Art in Odd Places (AiOP) festivals in NYC in the guise of different personas calling attention to urgent topical issues. She was the curator of (AiOP) 2019: INVISIBLE, featuring eighty-two artists celebrating the indomitable spirit of artists who are sixty years of age or older. Her public actions in Where Are the Women? (2015) highlighting the lack of public monuments to women in NYC was featured in the New York Times. Visit LuLu’s interactive installation Listening To The Birds in the exhibition YES, AND at the Staten Island Museum until March 2023 or send a bird memory Listening To Birds.
