Schmekel, a Band Born as a Laugh

First published in The New York Times on November 25, 2011. Read the original here.

THE basement auditorium of the Jewish Community Center on the Upper West Side is a sincere space. Big, brown and bare, it suggests a school gym, a place for officially sanctioned fun — which made a recent concert by Schmekel, a raucous klezmer-core punk band made up of “100% trans Jews,” all the more surprising.

“Schmekel” means little penis in Yiddish, and is a play on the fact that all four members were born female but now identify themselves on the masculine side of the gender spectrum. It’s an appropriate name for a band that started as a laugh.

“I made a joke at a diner about how it’d be funny if there were an all-transmasculine band called Schmekel that was all Jews,” said Lucian Kahn, 29, a guitarist and vocalist.

On the spot, Nogga Schwartz, a bassist, and Ricky Riot, keyboardist and vocalist, both 26, joined up. Within a few weeks they had found a drummer, Simcha Halpert-Hanson, also 26.

The wry and slightly naughty name is part of the band’s hallmark style, which is earnest without being innocent, and funny without being ironic. Their influences include Frank Zappa and Mel Brooks, and their lyrics — about subjects ranging from Dumpster-diving to Jewish religious ceremonies — are personal, political and pointed.

The music itself merges traditional klezmer scales and rhythms with the aggressive energy of early gay punk bands likePansy Division.

If the musical satirist Tom Lehrer were to write a hard-core anthem about sex reassignment surgery, with a driving guitar lick, a “Hava Nagila” breakdown and a keyboard line lifted from Super Mario Brothers, it might approximate the Schmekel sound.

In the year and a half they have been together, the four band members have performed for audiences around New York City: gay, straight, Jewish and gentile. They recently finished recording an independent album, “Queers on Rye,” and they embarked this month on a small tour of colleges in the Northeast. They have garnered attention from general-interest publications like New York magazine, as well as identity-based outlets like Homoground, The Jewish Daily Forward andJewcy.

“I don’t know if Schmekel could have existed 15 years ago,” said Sarah-Kay Lacks, 33, senior director of institutional programs at the Jewish Community Center in Manhattan. To her, the band members are emblematic of a sea change in mainstream Judaism.

“What has become so particularly amazing now is all of the places you get to layer your identity,” she said. To her mind, people used to have to choose a single broad-stroke identifier, as though they were characters from an ’80s movie: nerd, jock, Jew or trans. Now, Ms. Lacks said, more and more young people are unwilling to leave any of their identities behind to fit into regular Jewish space.

“The Venn diagram on musical, Yiddish and queer leads to a very small shaded area, but they live in it,” Ms. Lacks said. “This is à la carte Judaism. Or you could do a different frame, and it’s à la carte queerdom.”

But while the freedom to express multiple identities simultaneously in conventional contexts may be a recent phenomenon, the band is quick to point out that such complexities have existed for millenniums.

“There are six recognized genders in the Talmud,” said Mr. Schwartz, who was raised, in his words, “conservadox.”

These include the standard two with which we’re all familiar, and four more for others including eunuchs and people who are raised as girls but develop male characteristics at puberty.

When Mr. Schwartz started to prepare for his bat mitzvah, he began questioning everything from his religion to his gender, and he sought support from his temple. “My rabbi sat down with me and we had many conversations,” Mr. Schwartz said.

The rabbi told him that his soul was “probably a more masculine one,” and that he had to “live in the female experience to learn both sides of the coin.”

That, in Mr. Schwartz’s view, is what Judaism is all about. “We’re supposed to better ourselves as human beings, not as male or female,” he said. “That’s the ultimate goal.”

Indeed, for all the band’s irreverence, the foursome is serious about Judaism. Mr. Riot wears a skullcap, was born in Israel and grew up in Fair Lawn, N.J., in a modern Orthodox community. Mr. Kahn identifies as an atheist but holds a master’s degree in religious history from the University of Chicago’s Divinity School. And Simcha Halpert-Hanson (who prefers not to be identified with gendered honorifics or pronouns) grew up in the Reform movement but has always been drawn to a stricter interpretation of Judaism.

In the end, it may be their respect for and knowledge of their history that makes the band groundbreaking. They are not fractious rebels storming the castle of traditional faith, though they are fierce critics of homophobia, transphobia and misogyny in organized Jewish life. They see themselves as grounded in a strong Judaic tradition, even if the rest of the world doesn’t — yet. But they are reaching out, and the mainstream is reaching back.

As they finished their set at the Jewish Community Center’s Halloween show, they made a smooth transition from an original song, “Surgical Drains,” to “Hava Nagila.” As one, the crowd joined hands and began to dance the hora. Androgynous individuals in butterfly costumes and women in traditional Orthodox dress whirled joyfully through the auditorium, a perfect vision of the world as seen through Schmekel’s eyes.

Where Novices and Artists Indulge the Quilter Within

First published in The New York Times on September 29, 2011. Read the original here.

THE stores are already stuffed with polar fleece, Gore-Tex and Thinsulate. But as temperatures dip, one unassuming shop in Midtown Manhattan has everything needed to weather an old-fashioned winter in the oldest of ways — though you should start sewing now. It’s the City Quilter, the heart of New York’s quilting community for nearly 15 years and a destination for fabric lovers from around the world.

If “city quilter” sounds like an oxymoron, be advised: The more than 4,000 fabrics it stocks are not all granny prints in periwinkle and dusty rose. With kitschy, retro-1950s textiles and colorful batik patterns, the store walks the modern edge of a traditional form, creating a distinctly New York take on an American craft. Nearly all of its fabrics are cotton, which is easy to work with and wash. And the store sells a variety of fat quarters, or quarter-yard swatches, that are ideal for quilting.

On a recent Tuesday, City Quilter, on 25th St

reet between Seventh Avenue and Avenue of the Americas, was a quiet whirlwind of scissors, sewing machines and voices in a half-dozen languages.

“This place is very well known,” said Jean-Claude Becker, a retired research doctor whose mother, Mauricette Bensoussan, was visiting from Paris for her 80th birthday. At the cutting table in the front, Mrs. Bensoussan, an avid quilter, handed a dozen bolts of brightly patterned fabric to a shop assistant as her son converted metric measurements and hand gestures into inches and yards.

“She landed yesterday, and here we are, first day,” Dr. Becker said.

Deeper inside the shop, Sarah Cubbage, the assistant costume designer for the coming Broadway revival of “Godspell,” compared fabrics for a dance number. “I love the City Quilter,” said Ms. Cubbage, 31. “It’s a must-know of the fabric district.”

Like many patrons, she is not a quilter. But the helpful staff and easy-to-navigate shelves keep her coming back. It also helps that the store sells patterns and supplies for making all kinds of non-quilt items, including handbags and toys.

Cathy Izzo and Dale Riehl, the married couple who own and operate the store, worked in television before opening the shop in 1997. Though Ms. Izzo had quilted as a hobby, neither had any formal sewing training. Perhaps this explains the almost evangelical zeal they have for bringing fellow urbanites into the quilting fold. City Quilter offers nearly 50 courses a year, from one-day seminars on silk ribbon embroidery to multisession instruction on quilting techniques. They have also designed their own line of fabrics that draws inspiration from New York images: the subway map, the Lower Manhattan skyline, vintage postcards of local landmarks.

Despite the economic downturn and the fabric industry’s move from brick-and-mortar stores to online sales, City Quilter has expanded over the years. In April, it opened an art-quilt gallery in an adjacent storefront; as the American Folk Art Museum has grappled with budget problems and surrendered exhibition space, the gallery has provided a much-needed place to display high-end quilting.

“It is very unique, and a huge risk for them; they should really be celebrated for it,” said Paula Nadelstern, a quilting artist whose name translates from German as “needle star.”

Ms. Nadelstern, 60, is a member of the Manhattan Quilters Guild, whose group show, “Material Witness,” will be on display in the gallery from Nov. 15 through Jan. 7. A native of the Bronx, she is one of the most celebrated members of the art-quilt movement, and has shown her work in museums across the country. She has been a regular at City Quilter since it opened.

But quilters do not have to be experienced to get the most out of the shop. City Quilter aims to serve all types of do-it-yourselfers, whether they are novices or artists.

“You just don’t know who’s going to walk through that door,” Ms. Nadelstern said. “A lawyer, a doctor or someone who works at McDonald’s. It’s a gamut.”

A Gay Oasis, With Beer and Barbecue

First published in The New York Times on August 11, 2011. Read the original here.

WALK past the low-ceilinged bar, the jukebox and the pool table. Keep going, beyond the stage where “Queeraoke” erupts every Tuesday, and right out the back door. Feel the sunshine on your face and inhale the relatively fresh air (this is New York, after all) that makes Metropolitan the most popular gay hangout in Brooklyn on summer Sunday afternoons.

For the past nine years, casual backyard cookouts every Sunday from Memorial Day to the end of September (this year, to early October) have drawn local and farther-flung devotees to this small oasis, at 559 Lorimer Street in Williamsburg, a few steps from the L and G trains at Lorimer Street and Metropolitan Avenue.

Here, buying a $2 Bud will get you a ticket for a free burger (or a veggie version), potato salad and a relaxed evening that is the antithesis of the high-priced, high-strung New York gay life celebrated on the reality show “The A List.”

“It reminds me of places I would go in Berkeley or San Francisco,” Damon L. Jacobs, a marriage and family therapist, said at one recent gathering. “More homey, cozy fun than the pristine, plastic scenes one might get in Manhattan.”

The patio does have a homespun feel, with unfinished wooden benches and a corrugated fiberglass roof shading one half. But with two levels of seating and room for dozens of people, it is a home far from the usual space constraints of Brooklyn.

Mr. Jacobs, 40, who lives a few blocks away, absentmindedly played with a yo-yo, one of many he was giving away to entice patrons to take part in a new H.I.V. vaccine trial. For nearly two years, Metropolitan has let him promote the clinical work of Project Achieve at its cookouts, part of a larger pattern of community involvement that gives the bar its welcoming feel.

“It’s like your surrogate family’s weekly barbecue,” Mr. Jacobs said.

Your surrogate family, that is, if you were adopted by a group of gay men in their late 20s to early 40s, wearing tight black cutoffs and bright, stylized T-shirts. But even those who prefer wide-legged jeans have a place here.

“I survive off of this barbecue,” said Jackie Carlson, 28, a dancer and acrobat who has come nearly every Sunday for four years. “It’s definitely the most diverse, I feel, of the bars I’ve been to.

“But I do like my gay-boy bars,” she admitted with a smile.

While women may be in the minority at Metropolitan, they are by no means unwelcome — lesbian or straight.

The bar creates special events for its various constituencies, said Troy Carson, the owner and manager of Metropolitan and Sugarland, another bar in Williamsburg. Ms. Carlson frequently attends Girls, Girls, Girls, Metropolitan’s Wednesday night lesbian party, whose patrons she described as “gays, whatevers, lesbians, everybody.” The bar also hosts craft-making workshops on Saturday afternoons and twice-monthly comedy nights.

“I don’t know any other bar that’s as much of a staple,” said Devon Hong, 31, an advertising art director, as he described Brooklyn’s gay nightlife to a friend visiting from Toronto. “It’s kind of the place you go before you go out anywhere else.”

Mr. Hong and his friend had been in a back booth waiting for the food to be served since 4 p.m., the cookout’s scheduled starting time. But the grill generally doesn’t get fired up until 5 or 5:30. By 7, the line for food can snake around the patio and back into the bar.

Luckily, “happy hour” starts at 3.

Is It Summer? Time to Party at the Museum

First published on The New York Times on July 7, 2011. Read the original here.

THREE young girls zipped across the crowded dance floor, dresses fluttering, as a new D.J. took the stage. Their parents watched from beneath a small grove of plum and oak trees, drinking beers and discussing the exhibition of Ryan Trecartin videos. Nearby, two intricately coiffed hipsters in tight black cut-offs dipped their feet in a pool and waited to play table tennis.

To the uninitiated, the scene might have looked like some odd mash-up of a school playground, an outdoor rave and a gallery opening. But to its many regulars, it was just another summer Saturday at MoMA PS1, the contemporary art museum in Long Island City, Queens.

For 14 years now, the museum’s courtyard has been home to Warm Up, a weekly summer event that combines experimental music, art and modern design without being as alienatingly hip as that sounds. Indeed, perhaps more than the art or the music, it is the welcoming atmosphere that draws a diverse crowd, including scores of enthusiasts who return again and again to relax, socialize and hang out for hours.

Long Island City residents are admitted free, and for many in Queens, the series has become an institution and a kind of outsourced backyard.

“It’s almost like a family,” said Rebekah Kennedy, 37, a dancer and choreographer who lives in Forest Hills, Queens, and has been attending Warm Up since it began. “We know we’re going to see each other every summer, even if we don’t see each other throughout the year.”

Word has spread widely about the series, which began last weekend and runs every Saturday through Sept. 3 from 2 to 9 p.m. A $15 ticket includes admission to the museum and access to all the outdoor activities.

“I was here almost every Warm Up last summer,” said John Bielecki, 31, a waiter and self-described body worker from Prospect Heights, Brooklyn. “This is actually the only reason I come to Queens.”

Although music may seem the dominant element, with five bands or D.J.’s scheduled each day, Warm Up is less a concert series than a street fair without the street. Vendors sell food and drink, people dance, and children frolic. But instead of browsing through T-shirts and designer knockoffs, visitors peruse the edgy contemporary art for which MoMA PS1 is known.

Dave Renard, a 35-year-old D.J., was there for the first time in part because he had friends in Zoovox, a group on the day’s bill. But he stayed because Warm Up, despite an average attendance of about 5,000 each week, was a party that he and his 1-year-old daughter, Alex, could both enjoy.

“I always looked at the lineup and wanted to come, but it seemed like it was going to be really crowded,” he said as Alex pulled on his hand, then joined the dancing. “But it’s really chill.”

Each year, the courtyard is redesigned by the winners of MoMA PS1’s Young Architects Program. “Holding Pattern,” the current exhibition, was created by Interboro Partners, an architectural firm in Brooklyn that asked local residents and organizations to suggest useful objects that it could design.

The resulting chaise longues, mirrors, tree planters, games and kiddie pools create a fun, interactive space. At summer’s end, they will be donated to the people who suggested them — small reminders of a party that reaches far beyond its place and season.

An Arcade to Make Gamers Cry

First published in The New York Times on February 10, 2011. Read the original with comments and photo gallery here.

ON my first visit to Babycastles, an independent arcade in Queens, I watched as two young women explained to a friend the rules of a video game. It didn’t involve fighting, special moves or guns, but it was full of big-headed cartoon characters wandering through a jewel-toned landscape.

“I don’t understand,” their friend said, “but I love it.” From a nearby stool, I cheered them on until it was my turn.

An avid gamer since Pong, I have always loved the feeling of hiding in a friend’s basement while playing games through the middle of the night. It was something no traditional arcade could recreate: the camaraderie, the broken-down couches, the blasting punk music. But entering Babycastles brought it all back — right down to the low ceiling and the musty basement smell. But there was one important difference: the games at Babycastles can’t be found anywhere else. There’s no House of the Dead 4, Mortal Kombat 3 or even classics like Space Invaders.

Babycastles is part of a movement of indie and amateur game designers from around the world who are rethinking games from the ground up. Every month, the arcade features games built around a different theme and picked by a rotating cast of curators. Recent topics have included “Games That Will Make You Cry” and “Christian Video Games.”

Kunal Gupta, a video game promoter and the founder of Babycastles, said he hoped to educate a new generation of players about the many forms that video games can take. It’s the best kind of education, disguised as a night of competition among strangers.

Babycastles is small, occupying the basement of Silent Barn, a performance space and living collective on Wyckoff Avenue. Mr. Gupta and three friends live upstairs and run the music events on the main floor. The arcade is open four or five nights a week, during every show. Visitors flow seamlessly between the activities on the main floor and the games below.

Three or four games are typically set up in the basement. In keeping with the do-it-yourself aesthetic of the games, Mr. Gupta, along with a legion of volunteers, has built, scavenged and refurbished arcade cabinets to hold them. With a small bar, a few overstuffed couches and dim lighting, the space feels like a 1970s rec room reimagined by hackers. This intimacy makes it natural to watch and to interact with other players as if they are old friends.

Babycastles is not a money-making venture. Visitors pay for the music shows (usually $5) but not the games, which have no coin slots. Mr. Gupta hopes that one day, the independent video game scene will support designers, in much the same way the indie music scene supports musicians. But the first step has been to create that scene in a physical space.

At a party last fall, I listened to religious rock as visitors played Christian video games from the past two decades. For many, the games were like nothing they had experienced before. And that was a big part of the appeal.

“There’s not much I can tell you about this game because I’m confused completely,” said Paul Cox, a first-time visitor to Babycastles, as he attempted to navigate a game called “The You Testament,” based on Noah’s Ark. “It’s actually a blast so far.”

Island Creek Oyster Bar Review

First published in The New York Times on January 14, 2011. Read the original with comments here.

Island Creek Oyster Bar brings a special twist to the trend of farm-to-table restaurants: the small farms carefully listed next to each dish on Oyster Creek’s menu specialize in aquaculture, the raising of seafood and shellfish. But that’s not all: the restaurant itself is an extension of Island Creek Oysters, a farm founded in 1992 in nearby Duxbury, Mass. So it’s no surprise that though the menu is long and varied, at Island Creek, which opened in October, oysters take pride of place.

On a recent visit, 12 varieties were on offer, mostly from Massachusetts, but with a few from California, Washington and Canada. Our waitress recommended the Island Creek oysters themselves and the Dodge Coves, from Maine. Both are from the same batch of seed oysters, so tasting the two side by side emphasizes the importance of “merroir” — a term the oyster community uses in place of terroir. The Island Creek oysters were large and finished with a melonlike sweetness, while the Dodge Coves were more briny.

“Our nursery is in a saltwater river, where the water is warmer,” said Skip Bennett, the founder of Island Creek and a co-owner of the Oyster Bar. As the oysters mature, they are moved closer to the ocean. Their gentle upbringing produces large oysters with a sweet ocean taste. Shigoku oysters, from Bay Center, Wash., also stood out as particularly bright and flavorful.

Raw isn’t the only option, of course. More oysters, battered and fried, are served as sliders on sweet brioche buns. (The fried versions lack the seawater brininess of the fresh ones, making them a good dish for kids or squeamish novices, but disappointing for true aficionados.)

Island Creek’s seafood preparations extend beyond the oyster. An appetizer of steamed Duxbury littleneck clams, flavored with orange, basil and garlic, was delicious, with a pleasingly firm texture.

Jeremy Sewall, the executive chef and a co-owner, is equally adept at handling terrestrial ingredients, and there is a small section of the menu titled “From the Land.” The Vermont burger with Cheddar and house-cured bacon on a sweet caramelized onion roll is delicious. But it’s no competition for a neatly composed main dish of seared scallops with kuri squash, black trumpet mushrooms and kumquat. The acid in the kumquat brightens and brings together the deep umami flavors of the scallops and mushrooms. It is this attention to flavor composition and ingredient sourcing that elevates Island Creek above the recent spate of new oyster joints.

Island Creek Oyster Bar; 500 Commonwealth Avenue; (617) 532-5300; islandcreekoysterbar.com. Meal for two, about $100 without drinks or tip.

NY Times Travel Q&A: Puerto Rico or Tortola for a 30th Anniversary

First published in The New York Times on January 11, 2011. Read the original with comments here.

Q.

My husband and I will be celebrating our 30th wedding anniversary this February. Could you recommend a special resort setting in Puerto Rico or Tortola? Puerto Rico because it’s close and Tortola because that’s where we honeymooned. We are limited to the school break in February but do not want to stay at a resort overrun with children. Looking for a quiet beach/private pool, good food and wine. Any suggestions to help us mark this milestone?

M. Rossi, Merrick, N.Y.

A.

What about celebrating your 30th anniversary in Vieques, the small island just off the east coast of mainland Puerto Rico? In his “36 Hours in Vieques” (Feb. 21, 2010), Hugh Ryan wrote that the island has evolved into an upscale resort and has seen a boom in restaurants, galleries and hotels, while also offering white-sand beaches, coral reefs and a bioluminescent bay. In an e-mail, he added that one of the best things about Vieques is that it is still relatively “quiet compared to most Caribbean islands” and is “a great locale for couples looking for some calm, beautiful beaches that aren’t overrun with tourists — but still have some great restaurant options.”

Mr. Ryan suggested short-term apartment rentals as an option and recommended the Bravos Boyz (bravosboyz.com), a real-estate company that has some particularly good properties. Another option is the Hix Island House(hixislandhouse.com), situated amid 13 acres of Vieques wilderness. The 13 apartments are spread out over four elegant buildings, with terrific views, outdoor showers, kitchens supplied with breakfast makings and a large shared pool. Though the resort does not have a restaurant, it is about six miles from the main town of Esperanza (above), where dining options are plentiful. Rates start at $175 in February — and children under 16 are not allowed.

If you are willing to splurge, stay at the brand-new W Retreat & Spa (wvieques.com). Rates start at a steep $589, but the resort features a gym, spa, two private beaches and Mix on the Beach restaurant, from Alain Ducasse. Flights to Vieques require a connection in San Juan (or St. Croix or St. Thomas), and a rental car is a must.

Pinball Museums Light Up Around the Country

First published in The New York Times on December 17, 2010. Read the original with comments here.

STEP inside the Shops at Georgetown Park, a shopping mall in Washington, D.C., and you’ll find two nine-foot-tall flippers and a giant floating silver ball. It’s not a piece of public art — it’s the entrance to the new National Pinball Museum.

The museum (3222 M Street NW; 202-337-1100; nationalpinballmuseum.org), which opened on Dec. 4, is one of three shrines to the game that have lit up around the country over the last two years.

“I wanted people to get a real in-depth sense of what pinball was and is,” said David Silverman, executive director of the museum.

In depth indeed.

At the museum, no aspect of the game is left unexplored. The pièce de résistance, though, is a series of meticulously recreated rooms representing important moments in pinball’s development, from the French chateau where bagatelle, the game’s precursor, was invented in 1777, to the American workshop where the first game with flippers was made in 1947.

A brief history: Early versions of pinball first arrived in America with French soldiers fighting in the Revolution. It gained popularity as cheap entertainment during the Depression. When manufacturing exploded after World War II, flippers and lights were added. And as microchip technology developed, the games transitioned to solid-state computing.

“You’re seeing the development of an entire culture,” Mr. Silverman said.

The museum also features a small theater, a pinball parts and gift shop, and, of course, a game room with 40 rotating machines from Mr. Silverman’s private collection.

That might sound impressive, but it’s small compared with what awaits visitors at the Silver Ball Museum in Asbury Park, N.J. (1000 Ocean Avenue; 732-774-4994; silverballmuseum.com), where over 200 playable games sit just off the boardwalk.

Each game has a placard illuminating a bit of its history, but none sit behind glass or in exhibitions. In this way, the Silver Ball is equal parts arcade and museum.

“You can’t separate the two if the games are working,” said Rob Ilvento, who founded the museum in 2009. It moved to its current boardwalk home in early 2010, and Mr. Ilvento hopes to expand to include vintage arcade and kiddie rides in the next few years, as well as a carousel and an even more expansive selection of games.

The science of the game is the focus at the Pacific Pinball Museum (formerly the Lucky JuJu Pinball Arcade), which opened at the end of 2008 in Alameda, Calif. (1510 Webster Street; 510-769-1349; pacificpinball.org).

“There’s a wealth of scientific phenomenon inside pinball machines,” said Michael Schiess, the executive director. “There’s gravity, there’s obviously magnetic and electrical theory, there’s circuit design.” (To that end, Mr. Schiess rebuilt a regular machine into an exhibit he calls “Visible Pinball,” an entirely translucent game that shows how pinball works.) All three museums hope to keep pinball alive for collectors and aficionados, and to introduce the game to a generation of kids who may only know it from computer simulations.

“It gave me such a glimmer of hope to see these kids really getting into it,” said Mr. Silverman of the National Pinball Museum. “You can get it on a computer, but playing a physical game? That’s a whole different thing.”