There really isn’t much to say…  this was shot in my old apartment in Brooklyn, a four-story brownstone just off the Gowanus canal.   There are many stories and myths about this house, mostly regarding the Italian mafia.  From the looks of the interior this is possibly true.  The place is decked out in gold lame wallpaper, orange diner booths, wainscoting, mirrors everywhere, and an equal bar to bath ratio.  The owners are said to now reside in New Jersey, and occasionally show up to sign leases in tracksuits and gold chains.  There are even rumors of Frank Sinatra himself partying in this house.  Many of these stories were recounted at Anthony’s, a 100-year-old Italian restaurant across the street.

At the turn of the century, a huge flywheel did come apart from a nearby factory, flying thousands of feet through the air and crushing the top floor of the house.  That I know happened, as I saw the microfiche myself.  When I lived there it was a real co-op, we shared food, cooking responsibilities and many other chores, it was a total pain in the ass, but I loved it.  Now my wonderful friend Marela Zacarias lives there… the chain of friends never ends at the Mansion.

On this evening, it was far to wet to shoot outside and Marela invited us over for happy-beer drinking-playtime.  We set up a rigorous schedule that included shot gunning a beer, changing costume, and getting ready to take the next photo every 30 minutes.  Needless to say things got sloppy, and after a while we didn’t really follow the shooting schedule too closely.  These are the images of debauchery at the Mafia Mansion.