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Mermaids are truly political, as you will see in the next few photos. The partially obscured sign between the two large puppets says: Manhattan, Next Atlantis. Frightening! Their intent to invade and annex coastal cities is nothing short of a land grab. Would they reef buildings like those in the background?
Even advancing coral appeared this year, arriving with its own entourage, all looking quite healthy and diverse.
Some mermaids seem to have very terrestrial concerns, while others
just want to dance to the music, taking advantage of their single day of land-appendage exchange.
Other sea critters have rights on their minds . . .
like these surfsurfsurfragettes.
But mostly this parade is about music, marching, dancing, and welcoming the longest day the year, a leg stretching day.
These photos may capture the color but do not begin to suggest the volume.
Between the buildings, these drums are thunderous.
Green light, red light . . . they just keep pouring through the intersection. And remember yesterday’s tuba? That tuba–like the trumpet–has found its tribe.
Pirates also come ashore, like this band made up of scalawags banned from every continent of dry ground.
A reporter wanting to interview a dancer . . . just has to dance.
We leave it here.
All photos by Will Van Dorp, who is counting the days until the mermaids re-emerge from the deep for their next long day in the sun.
On the first full day of summer, a trumpet-toting parrot and a tuba-entwined starfish meet on Surf Avenue and 21st. That can only mean one thing: mermaids!! You’d guess that maybe even if the title had been summer solstice at Coney Island.
The unlikely pair–a psittacine gigantus and a forcipulatida musicus– talk and then set off in search of their kin.
I stayed at my location, figuring it might be a portal between the worlds where other fanciful sights would materialize. And sure enough . . . this wave-energized police car vintage 2910 glided past.
Predictably . . . Dick “the mayor” Zigun showed to key to welcome all at the portal to his stretch of beach, but is this the first time he’s not beating a bass drum?
The parade is many things, but it’s as much music and marching and dancing as anything else. And all, this is the best shot of Arlo, Coney Island native. See him in the beach cart just to the left of the staff guy in pink? Here’s a short song of his you might like.
Some mermaids hitch rides in motorized vehicles.
This amusement park ride–sometimes in the background of my Narrows photos, eg, here and scroll to third photo–is way beyond antique.
More parader pictures tomorrow, and for now I’m out enjoying the second whole day of summer 2019. Know the symbol below on the green flag?
All photos by Will Van Dorp, whose favorite year at the parade might be illustrated here and here.
Oh . . . the psittacine aka macaw found the trumpet section
In case you’re wondering if this blog has gone adrift . . . I’ll just plead solstice-ogling syndrome. Why stay on course when a grape popsicle 1949 Mercury oozes by like this, and it’s tickling your tastebuds and it’s
for sale, although I did not ask any particulars.
Only at the mermaid parade could you get a photo like this, although the photographer here might
be photographing the Chevy here with a right angle spy lens. Or maybe she was putting me in the frame?
Rattus rod!
I’d let this guy park for free.
Mesa sunrise on this mid-1950s Lincoln?
And finally, seeing this old Ford made me remember this unit from
way south Coney Island Caribbean.
All photos by Will Van Dorp, who has now recalled that although Coney Island is surrounded (mostly) by the sixth boro, it is still part of Brooklyn.
For the misfortune of all us 25 million sixth boro shore dwellers, it’s cool like below. Here’s what the the river banks like look for us when Mardi Gras gets scheduled.
Tugs and buoys carry glaze like this or
this . . . .
Even local wrecks (that’s two side by side there) have a glaze that mimics the gleaming white paint they once wore . . . . And one local water guy whose blog I usually read conveys experiences like these. Hawsepiper, . . . this goes out to you.
At these times it’s good to remember we have our own deferred (defurred?) mardi gras parade when we ditch our winter burqas and enjoy the summer solstice warmth . . .
sometimes even without parasols
in fewer than 125 days from now.
All photos by Will Van Dorp.
Loosely related, click here for a bulk carrier named Mardi Gras and a whole youtube channel devoted for Asian tugs, jetfoils, fireboats, and other workboats.
It can only be midsummer for a few long days. Store up on the color, frivolity, music, and laughter the mermaids bring ashore for the rest of the year. When they come through the intersection and turn down Surf Avenue, everyone stops to watch them pass.
And then, the hoop stops spinning and drops. Tails and scales return and mermaids hurry back to their occupations beneath the waves, leaving us to return to our pursuits. The moon wanes, as the music fades, replaced by raucous horns of frustrated drivers stuck in traffic. Days shorten. Temperatures oppress. And we have only memories of this to get us through another year.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp.
And if you think this is an NYC-unique event, check out the zeemeerminnen.
Sinuous lines of body paint . . . can mean only one thing: the Coney Island mermaid parade. Click here for a Daily News profile of parades going back to the 1940s.
Dick Zigun, mayor of Coney Island, starts out the beat, as he always does, but
then recognition went to those folks who contributed to make the parade possible.
Enjoy the color, imagine the sound of drums and laughter . . .
and frisson along some new ideas.
Happy summer. Troubles be banished for a while.
It’s called the mermaid parade, so what would you expect. And their marching bands make loud festive music.
Some bring consorts.
Frogs and politics crept in too.
But otherwise it was music and dance . . .
a walrus or two . . .
and bright curvy colors.
Happy summer 2013.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp.
Here are some posts from parades in 2012, 2011, 2010, 2009, 2008, 2007 . . . .
This is the work and play post . . . the real connection is that although we all have to work, an important secret is to enjoy what you do. Imagine this enthusiasm in a co-worker or yourself on Monday morning, whether you’re struggling to finish a group report or
like the Villiersdorp farmers and ALE and their associates moving Alwyn Vintcent on 80 functioning wheels–at least– around Table Mountain.
If you don’t enjoy it . .. or relish the challenge and execution,
you won’t even start the job.
This is the only way to get through obstacles that stop your progress . . . Revel in the task . . . like
the folks at NYS Marine Highway, now shipping corn–yes–corn–out of Ontario and into the Erie Canal. How long has it been that agricultural commodities have been shipped on the Erie Canal . . . how long have people talked about shipping same on that waterway that revolutionized NYC . . . or international shipping entering the Erie Canal, but Margot (over a half century young) and its crew
is actually-as we speak–
doing it! Bravo to the folks at NYS Marine Highway. Click here for lots more fotos of Margot.
Sun dancing is great, but the spirit that drives the dancers also animates folks
who dance with ships and lines and
get one task done safely and then move to the next and the next.
So whatever you do, whatever I do . . .
I know that if I can do it in a way that gets me satifaction and pleasure,
the better.
South African fotos come compliments of Colin Syndercombe; the Oswego/Erie Canal fotos, . . . Allan and Sally of Sally W, and all the others by Will Van Dorp.
Related: Here’s another ALE job.
Unrelated: The longest marathon swim starts tomorrow morning over 100 miles up the Hudson.
The other side of the boro . . . the strand on Coney Island, sees a visitation of finnyfolk, who briefly leave the water for this sun festival. Enjoy this field guide to western North Atlantic merpeople. These came in a replica of Nefertiti’s royal barge.
These seemed influenced by both 1960s popular music and bowsprite’s logo, and
these . . . by abandoned rowboats . . . .
Bubbles emanate . . . maybe from lungs not yet fully functioning.
The appearance of merpopulations triggers camerafolk, some of whom work alone with archaic gear, and
others that swarm, especially as mermaids apply their version of . . . cosmetics?
Lest anyone appear a threat, they bring in formidable security.
But otherwise, they just love to dance the
sun dance to their
own musicians who work with strings and wind and
percussion.
Some have ideas about politics and
activism; others
gloom-and-doom-ify.
Some mermaids, residing underwater as do hulls of boats, like boats need a haircut and a shave.
Some experience low-oxygen shock in the Coney summer air, as
they dance and
dance and take a break only for
recording it all for posterity.
And posterity surely should remember the color
and line.
Happy sun dance day.
All fotos by Will Van Dorp.
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