vip in the city

Mighty Aphrodite

At ABC Carpet & Home for the grand unveiling of Sabin Howard’s “Aphrodite Collection” – a series of sculptural figures inspired by Greek mythology and abstract forms. By the time the elevator spirited me up to the fifth floor, the artist was already sharing his welcoming remarks among the ghostly white figures and assembled guests. Not mutually exclusive, those two groups; art lovers and collectors aren’t generally viewed as the most rugged of individuals.

The sculptures themselves were riveting to behold: finely rendered faces, muscled torsos, sinewy limbs. Classical nudes of heroic proportions. Sadly, it seems that Howard’s talent outpaces his name recognition. No doubt this is due in part to the nature of his chosen medium, which harkens back to the antiquated art of classical statuary rarely seen now outside of museums. New Yorker Howard did have one local exhibition that I recall: his 7 foot bronze Hermes graced the second floor of the Time Warner Center for a few months in 2005… assuming one can count a showing near the United Colors of Benetton as an “exhibition.”

The collection pieces will be available to the public for purchase through ABC, and range in price from $24,000 to $145,000.

American Sligo

To kick off the Rattlestick Playwrights Theater’s 13th season: the world premiere of Adam Rapp’s new play, American Sligo. Tonight’s first preview played to a packed house; I spied Rapp himself ensconced in the back row of the theater, surrounded by friendly cohorts, a fact which I surmised based on the raucous guffaws I heard emanating from the rear of the house throughout the performance.

Not that there wouldn’t have been laughs otherwise: American Sligo is billed as dark (very dark) comedy, set on the night of wrestling legend Art “Crazy Train” Sligo’s final professional bout. There’s something inherently, absurdly funny about a pot-bellied senior citizen in a shiny red singlet, black eyeliner and jet mullet wig.

Art Sligo (Guy Boyd) is a widower whose chaotic, dysfunctional household is made up of his two troubled sons (Rapp regulars Michael Chernus and Paul Sparks) and a loopy, but well-meaning sister-in-law (a brilliant Marylouise Burke). At the pre-fight dinner which makes up the first act, their guest is a twitchy, hugely devoted fan of Sligo’s (Matthew Stadelmann), who is visiting their Midwestern home as a part of a contest prize. As one disruption after another threatens to derail (or detonate) the evening, Aunt Bobbie desperately powers through the simmering hostilities with her infuriatingly cheery, mindless chatter. Never has two minues of silence been more golden.

Rapp, who made his Off-Broadway directorial debut with his 2006 Pulitzer-nominated Red Light Winter, takes up the directing duties again for American Sligo. As with the playwright’s previous works, the relationships portrayed are complicated, messy, and potentially destructive. Some snippets of dialogue were fiercely funny, while ringing painfully true, which made it all the more disappointing that the overall plot felt to me too contrived. By the melodramatic two-character second act, the play seemed to lose steam before culminating in its tacked on, over-the-top ending.

It will be interesting to see how audiences respond, and if Rapp’s latest piece proves as divisive as his last. Earlier this year, Charles Isherwood (in)famously skewered Rapp’s Essential Self Defense, prompting others, including Edge Theater director Carolyn Cantor and bloggers like Rocco (whom I miscredited as Marian Seldes when this post first went up — sorry!), to leap to the play’s… uh,.. defense. The resulting controversy raised questions about the impartiality of blogosphere reviews. But maybe there’s no such thing as bad publicity?

Outside the theater, on Waverly Place – one of the prettiest and most confounding streets in New York.

Salt peanuts, salt peanuts and pizza pies

Outdoor dance performances are irresistible, even when they’re slightly weird.

This afternoon, DK, LK, HH, SYB and I met in Battery park for Tap City, the al fresco dance series celebrating all things tap. This all-afternoon event was an extension of the New York City Tap Festival which took place in July; like the main event, it was co-produced by master tap dancer Tony Waag and the American Tap Dance Foundation (ATDF).

By the time we hit the lawn, the “Tap Off” competition had just gotten underway. One by one, contestants (soloists, duets, trios or ensembles, ages 9-19) took the stage to vie for cash prizes and the opportunity to perform with the dance professionals at the “Tap City Down Town” concert that evening.

Amid all the shuffles, clicks, rolls and flaps, we saw several talented young performers, and one black lycra-clad JonBenet-esque moppet in a pink feather boa. (Hmm.) One tenacious teen opted to tap out Dizzy Gillespie’s “Salt Peanuts” a capella when there were technical difficulties with her music accompaniment. She was awarded an ADTF scholarship on the spot for being such a good sport, and went on to win second place overall.

Four out of five of us had little interest in the free tap lessons being offered after the competition, and that fifth person was starving, so instead we went hunting around the park for newly-opened Picnick, the double kiosk project by “rock star pastry chef” Will Goldfarb and partner Kevin Pomplun, former chef at Thor. I was surprised to encounter a bespectacled Goldfarb manning the counter himself, but excited for the chance to chat a bit with him about his plans for the new venture – such as adding Room 4 Dessert-type sweets; he mentioned his panna cotta, specifically — and how overwhelmed he had been by the positive reception during Picnick’s first week. Well, not all positive as it turns out, but these things take time. I’ll be back to check up.

As SYB caught up on his daily meals, we plotted our next move by the Weisz + Yoes fountain where HH earned a dollar by taking up SYB’s dare to run through the shooting jets of water.

No, that’s not him.

From the benches it was a brief stroll to Stone Street’s Adrienne’s Pizza Bar, where over a couple of old-fashioned rectangular pies (eggplant/mushroom and sausage/peppers), we watched Roger the Great win his fourth straight U.S. Open title in a dramatic and hard-fought victory over Serb Novak Djokovic. The best part was not having to wait two hours to eat.