People Die, Stuff Lives Ridgewood, Queens

People die every day in New York City. But what happens to the stuff they leave behind?

In a warehouse in Ridgewood, Queens, Nick DiMola of DiMola Bros. Rubbish Removal has curated a personal museum of other people's junk. Decal signs, gold teeth, receipts from the 1930s, crutches, wedding portraits and a menagerie of pre-1970 memorabilia blanket every surface of his office.

From this junk collection to the thrift store shelves, objects take on new lives in the wake of their owners' death. They find homes in hipster living rooms, immigrant kitchens and even the developing world. These objects have also become the muse of artists, breathing some heart and soul into their creations.

People Die, Stuff Lives by Lisa Biagiotti and Kenan Davis is a multimedia story that traces the places objects go before reaching their final resting place in landfills. Below is a video profile of DiMola.

Click to play video

Please visit nyc24.com for other multimedia elements to this story. The print story was also cross-published in the Queens Tribune.

Artist Finds His Niche Teaching Kids

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of all ages...the future of America!"

The voice of teaching artist Andrew Ronan booms unexpectedly from the cavity of his wiry frame.

Ronan, 32, is working with 17 high school juniors from the Renaissance Charter School in Jackson Heights to create a 40-minute performance addressing incoming freshman fears of hazing, sexual pressures, drugs, and gangs. The ran January 10 and 11 at Queens Theatre in the Park.

"[Teenagers] have a voice worth hearing," said Ronan, a native of Jackson Heights, who encourages teenagers to validate their thoughts and feelings through artistic expression. "We actually care about who they are and what they think.”

Students Katia Roma and Daniel Laverde summon Ronan over as they discuss a character named Ivie "Ghetto" Rivera. As he scrunches down to listen, they brainstorm about her insecure body image, why people can't pronounce her name correctly and the details of her personal history.

"We wouldn't be as far as we are right now personally and as a group [without Ronan]," said Laverde, 17, who has been working with Ronan for two years. "It's a challenge, it's more than reading. What you write comes from your heart [but] you're not afraid to express yourself."

This story was published in the Queens Tribune.

Living The Hip-Hop Life In Corona, Queens

At first glance, a high-end urban lifestyle boutique seems out of place above the Kennedy Fried Chicken on Junction Blvd. in Corona.

The wafting odor of fried chicken and the high-pitched sounds of electronic toys of the Chinese wholesaler next door could easily distract from what’s in between: a minimalist 10-foot-wide brick wall painted black.

Two brass-potted shrubs flank the glass entrance, and except for a black-and-white flag on the building’s second floor, All the Right boutique is almost invisible.

Owner George Landin said All the Right has transitioned from a record store with a recording studio and barber shop to a high-end apparel boutique in accordance with hip-hop’s four elements: DJ (disc jockey), MC (Master of Ceremonies), B-boy (break dancer), and graffiti.

Since 1998, All the Right has been a fixture in this working-class, mostly Latino neighborhood, attracting local rappers and graffiti artists and generating buzz by word of mouth as far away as Japan. Landin, who grew up in Corona, is now in the process of expanding All the Right’s vision and vibe to Los Angeles where he is scheduled to open another store in late February.

This story was published in the Queen's Tribune.

Handball: All it Takes is a Dollar and a Wall

Video by Lisa Biagiotti and Michele Wilson

It’s easy to find a ball and a wall in Elmhurst.

On any mild day at CC Moore Homestead Park on Broadway and 45th Avenue, teenagers play handball, smoke cigarettes and hang out. Because of limited park space, handball is a popular recreational sport in the neighborhood. Outdoor handball courts empty out during colder months when hands begin to sting from slapping the ball.

But serious handball players take the sport indoors and train at the Elks Lodge on Queens Boulevard, as part of a new Elks’ membership initiative. These players credit handball with keeping them out of trouble, and several players have become nationally ranked by the United States Handball Association (USHA), in Tuscon, Ariz., where officials recognize Elmhurst players by their first names.

This story was published in the Queens Tribune.

Indo-Carribeans Worship the Goddess Kali

At the Rajkumari Center for Indo-Caribbean Arts and Culture in Richmond Hill, Indo-Caribbean traditions from Guyana, Trinidad and Suriname are taught, preserved and passed on through sacred ritual and social interaction.

Every Sunday the Indo-Carribean community (originally from the Madrasi region of India) gathers at the Shri Maha Kali Devi Mandir temple on the border of Queens and Brooklyn for hours of healings and song devoted to the Hindu Mother Goddess Kali.

Click on the photo below to launch the audio slideshow.

This audio slideshow and accompanying story about folk arts in Queens is published on Columbia's Graduate School of Journalism's website, City of Change.

From Central Asia To A New Homeland

From her seventeenth floor apartment in LeFrak City, Gulchekhra Alimova runs Vatan Asia, a grassroots immigrant association that helps the growing number of Central Asian immigrants assimilate into American life.

Since she established the non-profit organization in 2003, it has grown to approximately 25 active members and over 100 volunteers. Alimova has become the inadvertent go-to person for Central Asian immigrant needs.

Alimova said Vatan Asia, which translates to "Homeland Asia" in Uzbek, has a network of about 5,000 in New York and 9,000 across the U.S. Alimova said she will now seek city grants or government sponsorship for her association.

This story was published in the Queens Tribune.

Corona: a neighborhood transformed

by Channtal Fleischfresser and Laura Isensee

Click on the photo to listen to Corona residents talk about the changes in their neighborhood over the last 30 years.

Changing Face of Corona

by Channtal Fleischfresser and Laura Isensee

Corona's changing demographics have affected Corona's politics and culture. Watch what longtime Corona residents have to say about the shifts.

Black and White Flight in Corona

Between the bodegas, Latin restaurants, markets, and food carts selling tacos and empanadas, it’s hard to walk down the street in Corona these days without hearing mothers speaking Spanish to their young children or the sounds of Latin beats emanating from the music stores along Roosevelt Avenue.

Since the 1950s this community – less than six miles from Manhattan – was home to sizable Italian and African-American populations.

But in recent decades, the face of Corona has changed dramatically as Hispanic immigrants have settled in the neighborhood in increasing numbers, while white and African-American members of the community have moved out.

Click on the graphic to see how the neighborhood has changed.

Koreans Support Other Ethnic Groups with Scholarships

Koreans in western Queens not only look out for each other, but they support neighboring ethnic groups, according to leaders of the Korean American community.

“We try to make more relationships with other cultures,” said Keun Ho Shin, 61, whose Korean American Association awards 20 scholarships to students of any ethnicity at Newtown High School in Elmhurst.

“The purpose of the association is to improve relationships with the community, no matter what ethnicity,” said Shin, owner of Cody Printing Corp. in Woodside.

The association is made up of Korean business owners, churches and individuals, and serves a community of over 100,000 in western Queens. Korean leaders break the language barrier and act as a bridge to service departments like police, fire and sanitation, according to Shin.

"[Our goal is] to get the proper service and give them the right direction,” said President Sean Shin, who translates police fliers and and community notices into Korean.

In a step beyond matters of service, John Park, 56, of Jackson Heights, encourages Koreans to take interest in their surrounding community and exercise their rights to vote. He is president of the Korean American Empowerment Council, a non-profit organization created 1998.

"We need strong friends, we have to grow up together," said Park. "I try to make [Koreans] ask, expand, [and] be open."