Sometimes, the "RIP" has to stand not only for individuals, but the kind of cultural institutions they created. I'm thinking of two New Yorkers -- Olga Bloom and Anthony Amato -- who brought musical performances closer to the people. Bargemusisc and Amato Opera Company were local, scrappy ... and cheap. We need more of that that nowadays. But, as the NY Times puts it, the economic model of serious, shoe-string classical operations, working in their own performance spaces, may no longer be sustainable in NYC.
With the Loss of 2 Leaders, the End of an Era
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One of them found a tiny old theater on a grungy stretch of the Bowery. The other mortgaged her home to buy a 19th-century coffee barge and haul it to the Fulton Ferry Landing in Brooklyn.
Everything in New York comes down to real estate, to finding places where things can happen. In the last few weeks the city and its cultural landscape have lost the people who created two of the unlikeliest, loveliest places for us to see and hear music performed.
That coffee barge, bought for $10,000 in 1976 by Olga Bloom, who
died on Nov. 24 at 92, became the floating chamber-music hall
Bargemusic. And the 107-seat theater on the Bowery, a few doors down from the punk-rock club C.B.G.B., was, starting in 1964, the home of the
Amato Opera, which its founder, Anthony Amato, who
died on Tuesday at 91, liked to call the smallest grand
opera company in the world.
Two scrappy institutions; two idiosyncratic, unforgettable spaces. The passing of their longtime leaders is a moment to think about the arts and where they live.
I made it to Bargemusic only a couple of times, for new music not often performed elsewhere. Amato Opera was one of my favorite places for several decades. The singing was heart-felt and impassioned; on the best nights it was a good deal more than that. Audiences were enthusiastic, sometimes singing along -- not afraid to respond to the action with gasps or groans or belly laughs.. The feel of Amato Opera made me think of what it might have been like to live in a small Itallian town, one far from the beaten track, when a touring company was in town for a few nights. I guess I always thought of it as something
permanent, eternal ... (or so it seemed).