GREENHOUSE
Greenhouse was one of those rare events. A rare event no one ever saw coming. Its presence snuck up like a thief on a frigid foggy night. Then once it attacked, like a slap in the face, its presence made one take note to what was going on in the house; in the world of house music. This is my house. Welcome to my house.
Piedmont Park the largest park within the city’s limits provided a grandeur view of midtown’s metropolis skyline to the west. To the east sat residential neighborhoods clamored with upper-class Victorian style homes. This wasn’t just any ordinary park but the city’s grand central park which sat in the middle of midtown. To secure Piedmont Park for a house music event was no small task. There had to be lots of red tape, politics and a hefty fee that came along with securing a city permit to hold the event in such a metropolitan area.
The weather, entirely too perfect was just right for an outdoor event. Not one complaint was uttered or heard about the weather, temperature or park. Instead, overhead, sitting in overgrown Dogwoods, birds chirped songs of joy in the mid-summer air. Actually, a cool gentle breeze swept across the park’s central valley that landed at the park’s outer edge right before the ascent of giant skyscrapers. The temperature, only a mere 83 degrees was miraculous for this time of year when average high’s hovered in the upper 90s. Interestingly, the day before that scorched with deadly heat and plagued by humidity that hung in the air with intense suffrage was today replaced by mild, clear and crisp air.
The bright July sunlight beamed atop the park’s main pavilion roof marked with reddish shingles was supported by eight hinged grey cobblestone columns. Inside the open face structure, giant ceiling fans hung from a green ceiling constructed of wood. The pavilion could easily hold a hundred plus people. Although not knowing the exact numbers of attendees, there appeared more than ample space to accommodate the crowd of the lone three, currently on the dance floor. Besides me the others included; two toddlers playing and their observing caramel fresh faced mother. The young lady crowned with plump long black/brown braids pinned up decorating the circumference of her brim, wore a bright yellow-orange long flowing summer dress that revealed two bronze nude feet with a smile of pleasure plastered to her face. She cautiously surveyed the two offspring bouncing a small red plastic ball, the kind found in bubblegum machines, to one another with warm smiles and cute giggles. Oops, the tiny red ball grazed my leg and bounced towards the pavilion’s left wall. It landed softly on a patch of starved brown grass just beyond the front entrance near the pavilion’s main walking path. The ball needed to be grabbed or it would disappear into the thick forest of once green blades. Being the fastest of the three, I leaped and plucked the ball out of the heated grass and gracefully handed it to the astounded children. Once again, there appeared those warm smiles followed by cute giggles as the two turned around and continued their business of play. What relief to see the innocent at work with nothing else to do but have fun. Only if life were a ball of fun then all would be well.
The park’s air sprung to life with deep soulful underground sounds that thumped with uncompromising heavy four-count beats and blazed with soft mellow keyboard chords worthy of turning any non-house believer into a crazed house fanatic. The music caused my fingers to snap with my feet occasionally swaying from left to right. What was happening? I had no reservation to dance. Fortunately, I was giving in to house music’s magnetic powers.
Photography by Carlos Bell
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Tags: Atlanta, deep house music, Greenhouse, house music, Piedmont Park