To me, this piece of linoleum was the height of beauty and sophistication.
Laid on the bottom of Florence's closet, peeking through some shoe boxes and other miscellaneous items, like her secret box of tampons. There may have been art on the walls and a Steinway in the living room, but furniture and floors were more catch as catch can. A hand-me-down, a second hand find, something cheap from Coney.
This piece of floor defied all that, insisting on being a brush stroke of aesthetic taste, like joy and hope, only briefly seen behind closed doors.
MY PRIVATE CONEY presents IT WAS HER NEW YORK, the short stories that accompany the work-in-progress video and photo collection of the same name (myprivateconey.com - media link - IT WAS HER NEW YORK). The stories and the media explore the tender rubble that holds both my mother, Florence's and New York's soul as one disappears into old age and the other into gentrification. All are real observations and/or experiences with very little tall-tale telling.
Except when it makes the story better.
Please visit myprivateconey.com for additional information and sample works.