As I walk up to the backstage door of West 55th Street, I take several deep breaths, speak consoling words to myself, and gently push through the brass plated door. West 55th Street is the address of City Center Theatre. it is also the address to a place I consider somewhat of second home. I was born into a lineage of stage hands. The men behind the show: without them the show would simply not go on. My father was the Technical Director for an American Modern Dance Company named Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater. Homeschooling allowed me to tour with my father and the company 9 months a year until I was 15. The only downside is the emotional attachment I cultivated with my pseudo dancing family, along with the theaters I grew up in. New York’s City Center Theater was considered one of my Father’s “main offices” and more importantly, one of my playgrounds as a child. As I grew older, I always considered my visits to be pleasant ones. Childhood memories would rush in, making me smile from lobe to lobe and I obtained a light-hearted, carefree persona within this nostalgic location. As of this past year, I am now affected in quite the opposite way. My father unexpectedly passed away as I entered my second semester of college. It’s truly mind-blowing how the absence of one human being can affect so much. My “used to be” comfort zones now seem to require effort to even approach without choking back and blinking away faucets of salt water. West 55th Street is filled to the brim with memories of my Father. It takes an uncontrollable toll on my emotions and I think many can agree that no feeling is worse than “out of control”. The persona I now take on upon visiting is no longer gay and free, but quite the opposite.
For this project, I returned to City Center Theatre. It was quite difficult considering the last time I had visited was for my Father’s memorial service. I took time to reflect in spaces that I enjoyed as a child; the contrast in emotions was overwhelming. I embody a solemn, introverted persona when I enter the theatre. I find myself unable to focus on actual realty and lose myself to my own mind as it is drowned in memories traveling miles a minute. The relationship between time and space is a strong one; they interact with one another to create enormous effects. I myself felt to be apart of such effect when revisiting West 55th street.
