Property Tales
The capitalist food-chain model really works when applied to the real estate market. Larger fish always move in after independent artists have pioneered and transformed the city's rundown or marginal neighborhoods. Then, pushed out of their living and working spaces, artists have to find other areas to settle in. That means New York City's cultural landscape is constantly in a state of flux, geographically speaking.
When Aaron Beall thinks real estate, he thinks theater.
"Clever landlords understand that when they bring theater into a transitional neighborhood, it jumpstarts gentrification," says Beall.
"We've seen it repeatedly, starting with Café Chino in the West Village during the 60s, La Mamma in the East Village during the 70s, and P.S. 22 in Long Island City during the 80s. Next in the continuum: the complex of theaters on Ludlow St. on the Lower East Side, which we established during the 90s. They were pushed out by bars and restaurants, which are now being displaced by larger economic entities."
In 1988, Ludlow St. landlords recruited Beall to transform an empty space into a theater-Theater Club Funambules-and work there for a year, rent-free.
"We pioneered crossing Houston St. because East Village rents were too high. After a year, we began paying rent-under $1000 a month. But as theatrical culture blossomed on Ludlow St.-with the opening of House of Candles, Expanded Arts, Surf Reality and the Collective Unconscious-rents rose. We were constantly inventive to survive," says Beall. "From 1988 to 2000, we produced 2500 shows, presenting three different performances-at 7:30, 10:00 and midnight-nightly. In 1991, we changed our name to Nada-because that's what artists start off with-nothing. In 1995, under shamanistic advice, I changed the name to Todo Con Nada."
Beall, helming Ludlow St.'s theater movement, staged a Hamlet festival-presenting 31 different productions-in 1993, followed by 1994's OBIE-winning Faust festival-with 43 productions. In 1997, he helped create NY International Fringe Festival, opening four more Ludlow St. theaters. In 1998, he added Nada 45, on 45th St.
"I foresaw a tide?of change in real estate. I felt it prudent to open a bunch of theaters to get them into history books, making sure Ludlow St. theatrical culture and the 90s Off-Off Broadway movement would be documented. Those theaters closed by 2001, after glorious runs," says Beall. "I moved to Times Square, turning the 18,000-square-foot second floor of Show World, the sex emporium, into several theaters called Todo Con Nada Show World, presenting the Yiddish Theater, and other projects. I left there in 2002, amicably and with a severance package-the owner realized he'd earn more with a nightclub. It's now the Laugh Factory, a national chain."
Beall's in the process of archiving the Ludlow St. theater documents, and is currently without a theater-but that's likely to change soon.
"I'm thinking of opening two six-seat theaters in my small midtown apartment. I'll present a play in my room, and a stand up comic in my roommate's room. The kitchen between will be the lobby," Beall says. "We'll call it the Mouse."
For larger venues, Beall sees potential downtown.
"Artists are being encouraged to move to the Financial District-until the World Trade Center is completed. I figure we've got a decade before we're kicked out. Meanwhile, the boroughs are opening up, too. Culture used to be Manhattan-centric, but it's becoming citywide, with pockets of intense artistic activity in Brooklyn and Staten Island. That's a good thing. The ultimate goal would be for artists to own places-something that's rundown but redeemable, perhaps a disused city building or one donated by a foundation. You'd need funding to run it, though. What we did independently on Ludlow St. would take hundreds of thousands of dollars-or maybe a million-to run now. But funding is potentially dangerous if you want complete artistic freedom," according to Beall.
"New York City's the best place in the world for artists, but it's becoming more difficult to survive here. As the economic tide rises higher and higher, artists just have to be more ingenious. Ingenuity is our bread and butter."