Abandonded Asylums and Defenestrated Cassava
In November 2010 my co-Facilitator, Matt Herman, and I set up a Door-to-Door recording day at Youth Insights at the Whitney Museum of Art. Danielle Linzer (L) and Diane Exavier (R), associates at the Whitney, successfully planned 5 interviews for youth members to record visiting artists, their peers or parents.
They also booked the last day’s slot to interview one another. Although Danielle and Diane had then shared an office and desk space for over a year, they told each other some stories of their mischievous childhoods for the first time.
Danielle grew up on New York’s Roosevelt Island, roaming its ad-free waterfront walkways and exploring its abandoned buildings. She and her friends climbed the insane asylums’ empty stairs and marveled at the dark halls of rooms for smallpox quarantine. As teenagers they looked out over the East River at night to midtown Manhattan’s resplendent skyline reflected on the water, with its endless white noise humming across.
Diane described growing up Haitian-American. She disliked her family’s homemade food, and she and her cousin once realized that they could spill their plates’ contents out of the window instead of swallowing it down. Months later someone could have found cassava casseroles in all forms on an empty stretch of sidewalk outside their Flatbush building in Brooklyn.
Danielle is a photographer, and Diane, a playwright. They commiserated over being arts professionals while working on another craft. Laughing at their similar names but very different heights, these office mates left their StoryCorps interview with a little more to connect on.
One Response to “Abandonded Asylums and Defenestrated Cassava”
To preserve the StoryCorps mission and experience for our readers and participants, comments are subject to the StoryCorps Terms of Service. Comments may be held for moderation or removed if deemed offensive or off-topic. Please do not resubmit your comment if you don't see it right away, it will be approved as soon as possible. Thank you.