Finally, I watched as Moirre Cramer wrapped a willing subject in strips of plaster-drenched gauze to make a body cast of her torso. The pile of dirt symbolized more than making 42nd Street dirty again in a sexual way. It was a representation of the shifting earth from which all things emerge and eventually return. My vision was to have people dancing and playing in the dirt as one last gasp of free expression in an increasingly stifling atmosphere in New York City. My first impulse was not a political statement.
Artists reflect what happens in our communities.
Art and politics are best mixed when it is an organic cocktail and not a forced combination. While it was great to see freedom of sexual expression return to Times Square where I hung out as a teenager enjoying the cheap movies, arcade games, peep shows and the general underworld excitement of New York at night, the Dirt Show shouldn't have been all that exceptional, but it was. Amy Shapiro and the participating artists and performers made the dirt show something special and memorable. Even passersby were amazed and amused by the sexual images they could see looking in from the street and many came in to share the experience. At one point, gagging from cigarette smoke and hungry, I took a walk around the corner to get some air.