• by Kelly Samardak , May 14, 2009

2009 New York Photo Festival Curators Reception, Powerhouse Arena, DUMBO
May 14, 2009

It's no secret that I love photography and music with equal parts of my heart. Last night I was faced with a conundrum: Cover the opening party for the NY Photo Festival and ingest eye food or do something in my real life like take in Animal Collective at Terminal Five - ingesting ear food AND eye food. The photo festival party won for many reasons - one being that it would give me a chance to explore DUMBO a little more outside of my fun monthly jaunts for Digital DUMBO and the other being - well, it's photography, I'd be armed with a camera, and the people watching promised to be magnificent. Put your fancy pants on and come on down to the Powerhouse Arena where Frank Frank Evers, organizer of NYPH, mans a no-nonsense door.

I arrived just before 7:00PM and took the opportunity to walk down to the water while I waited for my new +1, Corey Reiter, annoyingly talented jewelry designer. The sun was setting a deep tangerine, which made bridge and waterside pictures a necessity. I wasn't unique in my thinking - the path was peppered with picture people. When Corey arrived, a tiny line (more like scattered clumps of people) had formed and Frank, the fellow at the door, was reminding everyone that walked up that, "this is an invitation-only private event." I wasn't nervous; I knew I was on the list.

I wasn't.

Of course when Frank asked who invited me, I blanked. Luckily, I found Public Relations Director for Industrial Color Brands, Joanna Virello's name and we were let in without incident. My eyes jumped from table to table. Powerhouse Arena is all squares and right angles of perfectly piled photo books and the photo toy table was layered with pinhole cameras, tiny plastic cameras, kaleidoscope lenses, cameras that meowed when you captured an image... so much! To deaden the impulse buying nerve screaming at me I hit the bar. The drink of the evening was the "Ping Pong." Actually, it was the Pink Pom, a sweet little pink concoction of lemon vodka and pomegranate juice. Due to my subway deafness, I heard "Ping Pong" which is much cuter. 

Within seconds, I saw Matt Caldecutt of Trylon PR cutting through the crowd like a goblin shark. He was waiting on Nichelle Stephens and was meeting up with friend Audrey Boguchwal of HUGE and a handful of others. I ran into Sam Lunetta of Michael Andrews Audio Visual Services, Inc. He's the guy that makes the lighting just so, so that your amazing photography looks even more fabulous.

Speaking of fabulous, I saw the one and only Patrick McMullan lurking in a corner with one of my favorite types of people, a baldy. Long ago, I was lucky enough to meet the delicious and nutritious Ed Burns. When I explained the glory of this column and he said "... like Patrick McMullan" and I stood there looking like a run over bunny and said "soooo, who is Patrick McMullan?" Ed then pulled BeBe Neuwirth over and outed my ignorance. This inspired BeBe to yank out her phone and scroll through her photos from a recent McMullan exhibit to show me. I had no idea when I was 23 that at 32 I would string those sentences together. I assumed the real Patrick McMullan would be a self-important jackass (I know, nice snap judgment) based on his industry longevity and notoriety, but the guy was friendly, sarcastic, self deprecating, AND not prissy about having his own photo taken - it was like joshing around with an old pal.

I left Patrick for the PERFECT guac. It was sitting in a pretty green glob atop a crispy round. The waiter, Mr. Moustache, was instantly swamped by hungry mobs when he descended the stairs. I edged by him to take in the upstairs installation curated by McMullan. I need to tell you - I laugh at naked people. Not outright guffaw and drool, but I definitely giggle gauchely. I went to a Richard Avedon exhibit once and the final image was a larger than life, entire wall spanning black and white of naked people. While others were perching their chins thoughtfully in their analytic fingers, I was stifling hysterics. Naked people are funny. And if you don't think so, something is wrong with you. The photo that had me grinning like an 8-year-old in front of a found Playboy was the one of a man doing a backstroke sans pantalones. 

I was drawn to a couple that was standing quietly by a table of photo books. Turns out the woman was Joni Sternbach, a photographer whose book, Surfland, had just come out that day! I flipped through it, loving the sun worn and cracked surfers with their surf dogs. I could smell the salt and sunburned skin. Beautifully haunting photos - there are deep souls captured in that book. Joni was with Kenneth Sean Golden who has a very ghostly-feeling business card. I also met Sasha Erwitt, Senior Associate Photo Editor at Vanity Fair and Jessica Dimson, Photo Editor at Departures Magazine.

Hungry after "Ping Pongs" and only two guac crackers, my +1 and I headed for sustenance and landed at Hecho En DUMBO, a cozy little joint offering a colorful list of margaritas (and a sangria of red wine floating on a tumbler sized dose of vodka) and authentic (queso with chorizo? YUM) Mexican food. This is where we re-ran into Mr. Moustache, who is actually Giovanni Escalera, music composer and producer. Giovanni informed us that Hecho En DUMBO catered the event! They were responsible for the most delicious guac. At Hecho En DUMBO we also ran into Timothy Hogan of Jewel Street Studios, who just so happens to have work displayed during the festival

What a visually and gastronomically delicious evening.

Check out all of the photos on Flickr!

Send invitations to kelly@mediapost.com!