By Keegan Hamilton
By Albert Samaha
By Village Voice staff
By Tessa Stuart
By Albert Samaha
By Steve Weinstein
By Devon Maloney
By Tessa Stuart
Rent $668.98 (rent stabilized)
Square feet 600
Occupant Lisa Gaye (cult movie queen; Web site designer)
Hi. Come over here in the kitchen. Look at this floor. Getting those tiles off nearly killed me. Once I started, there was no turning back. This is the door to the dumbwaiter. It was totally boarded up, buried beneath years of paint. Now it's gorgeous, a stainless steel door with brass handles. And inside, it's like a treasure box. It's become my pantry!
You have so many boxes of Edensoy and garbanzo beans.Everything's organic! You can't be too careful. Especially with this genetic stuff they're doing. See over here, I hung this baroque mirror above the stove. I always try to do stuff differently. My TV in the other room is on another stove I found. Come over here, see the front door, another treasure. All stainless steel. I used Zip-Strip. I have the before and after all on video.
You have been in more Troma films than any living human, like Class of Nuke 'em High 2 where women with large chests wearing bathing suits are talking to men in space suits at high school lockers or they're having sex in front of the blackboard and everybody is throwing up green slime and you play a professor who combines human and nonhuman life by gene splicing to produce subhumanoids at the rate of one every 38 seconds. Yes.
In real life, your home is everything. In fact, you are one of the many millions today remaking your home, madly, at a nonstop breathless pace, more than ever before. Everyone is reading about homes, about everyone else's homes. Do you read Wallpaper magazine? I love Wallpaper, but all the issues look alike. All the photos of global nomads lounging in porto-pods or crawling over Edward Wormley sofas to get to a bottle of Rioja. The rest of the world is watching Home and Garden TV-50 million households, they say. All the suspense as you watch a man sponge-paint a kitchen cabinet. How could anyone miss Yankee Workshop? Now you have taken your apartment to your Web site, the apartment you got 15 years ago after coming to New York from Baltimore, where your father is an electrical contractor. So you came here, studied with Lee Strasberg, and got your apartment because your boyfriend played basketball with someone who said his neighbor just died-"because he was so huge that when he fell down, he couldn't get up"-and then somehow you got the apartment and then you got a letter saying they'd overcharged you so you got two free years of rent and plus they had to roll back the rent. Of course, now they are charging $2400 for the same size apartment, renovated, in this building. Anyway, you have a Web site about you and your apartment, www.LisaGaye.com, which shows you in your underwear and which also shows your sofa. I've been digitally shooting the restoration process before, in the middle, and after. The stills will be part of the restoration section of the Web site. The story of the restoration of the dumbwaiter is five images. The story of the front door is five as well. The dumbwaiter shot begins with written titles-"It all started with a hunk (a photo of my old boyfriend) and a dumbwaiter. The hunk is the one on the left." I have it written really tight. The next shot shows the inside of the dumbwaiter. The shot after that is me stripping the paint. It's all innuendo. There's more. Then the title reads, "You fill it with munchies and live happily ever after-with the dumbwaiter, of course. The end." Think it's easy making this stuff interesting? The series about the front door is me stripping the door and then I do a fashion shoot in front of the door, wearing eyeglasses. I haven't written anything for the window yet.