The Gyronauts: Hoop is a Verb!

I met Tash — a.k.a. Natasha Kouri — the other day on Bedford Avenue in Williamsburg, where she was selling her creations: a wide assortment of hoops that she describes as “colorful, sparkly, shiny and gyrotastic”. Four-year-old Leelee was with me, and she had been wanting a new hula hoop since the one I bought her a few months ago got broken. Tash said no problem, she would specially make one for Leelee’s diminutive size.

Tash in hoop performance

I discovered that, in addition to making the beautiful hoops, Tash also does hoop performances that have been described as “majestic and formidable” — employing body paint and fire — and that her NYC based troupe, The Gyronauts, has had some great gigs. They’ve performed from Florence to Buenos Aires, and also at NYC’s Mermaid and Halloween parades, and as a part of performances at concerts with rock bands such as The Dresden Dolls… I sensed some hoopla, indeed, so I grew more curious.

The Gyronauts in performance

An online source describes a hula hoop fad that took place in the 50’s, although hooping has actually been around for several thousand years. And the difference now is that hoops are much larger than the hula hoops one might have encountered as a child. Also, hooping is said to be quite an inclusive activity: one needn’t be a gymnast or dancer because “the bigger and heavier the hoop, the slower it rotates around your body.” So, with one of the larger hoops, almost anyone can hoop, “regardless of age, size, or sense of rhythm.”

Tash was also involved with a troupe of hoop performers at this year’s Burning Man festival in the Black Rock Desert in Nevada. And, according to the New York Times, she was among 80 people working four hours a night, three nights a week, for three months preparing costumes and sets which they transported out west for their festival performance the week before Labor Day.

For more photos and information on Tash and the Gyronauts, visit their myspace page.

“Hula Hoop” by Rita Paul

Photo credits: Kerry McClain; Natasha Kouri
Sculpture: “Hula Hoop”, by Rita Paul

© 2008 NutsInNY.com

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Of Mice and Nuts: Reasons Not to Act

Actor Todd Robert Anderson describes himself as “one of television’s most vaguely recognizable performers”. But despite that self-deprecating tag, the graduate of New York University can claim some pretty big television credits on his resumé, ones that make him sound a heck of a lot like an acting success story: Will & Grace, CSI, Judging Amy, and The Guardian.

Todd Robert Anderson

However, despite the high profile credits, Anderson has penned a cautionary tale for those considering a career in acting. Originally conceived of as a book, his collection of essays titled “Don’t Act: 101 Reasons Why You Shouldn’t” is freely available, being presented in installments on his blog. An eye-opener for would-be actors, it details his early struggles in New York, providing the kind of gritty local color familiar to struggling creative types in NYC.

In Don’t Act, Reason #3: You will be broke, Anderson discusses the hardships and grim existence he faced after graduating from NYU, as a struggling actor in New York, and we meet some of the checkered characters who populated his world:

I was forced to find a new dwelling in Astoria, Queens. The only reason I had ever been able to live in Manhattan in the first place was because I was in college and my parents were footing the bill for food, shelter and tuition… But once I graduated, I was on my own, and food and rent cost a lot more than I could afford. The job I worked paid only eight bucks an hour, and that’s not enough to make it happen in The Big Apple. The only place I could afford…was a one-room shack at the back of an alleyway. I shared it with two roommates who put up cheap walls to divide the place into three rooms. One was a pothead…and the other was a fair-skinned vegan who ate only green vegetables and had only one bowel movement a week which gave his skin a greenish hue and made me rather anxious.

Then there were the creepy neighbors:

I once lived next to a guy who claimed to be the president of the Manhattan Chapter of the Young Republicans Club, and he was always stopping by our apartment…to tell us about the great time he had just had at a strip club. On our other side was the shut-in lady who only came out of her apartment to walk her retarded Doberman. If our door was ever open even a crack…the shut-in lady would come over…and sit on the sofa to smoke her Virginia Slims and talk my ear off. One night…I was trying to write an essay for class… the shut-in lady was smoking cigarettes and yammering while I continued to try to write. My roommate never shut the door, to give her the hint we didn’t want her sticking around too long. Twenty minutes later the Young Republican poked his head through the door. What happened then was astounding. The two of them began having a conversation as if my roommate and I weren’t even there. The Young Republican was apparently allergic to dogs because his nose started literally draining snot, but he refused to leave, so engrossed he was with the shut-in lady. They discussed her dog. He said, “I love these guys, but they kill me.” She answered, “They kill you? Look at this.” Then she pulled her upper row of teeth out of her head, explaining that the dog had jumped for a ball and slammed into her jaw. The Young Republican then said, “Oh, yeah?” And then he pulled his teeth out of his head! Now, I would have demanded that they leave, but chances were quite high that they were both homicidal maniacs…

Finally, some thanks is overdue for Todd Robert Anderson’s efforts to rid the boro of Queens of mice, one by one:

Both of my roommates were allergic to cats, so we had none, but all the neighbors had several felines apiece which meant that the neighborhood mice made their home in our shack… Before attempting sleep, I often would pull the blankets back to find several of these critters having a warm nap in my bed. I became obsessed with killing all the mice in Queens, and I am generally a very peaceful person. After trying all manner of traps and poison, I found the most efficient way of killing them was to put out a glue trap…turn off all the lights, and then sit poised atop a stool with a hammer in hand. I would wait that way until one of the mice had the misfortune of getting himself stuck on the trap… leaping with a triumphant howl from my perch…

Sure does sound like Anderson’s life as a struggling actor in NYC was chocked full of nuts. But also maybe, just maybe, having a bit of his own nuttiness helped him pull thru the tough times. Est-ce possible?

Photo credits: Bob Neches; The Jackson Laboratory

© 2008 NutsInNY.com

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