Step right up, step right up! This weekend’s your last chance to give Coney Island: Visions of an American Dreamland, 1861–2008 a whirl!

There are only five more days to see Coney Island: Visions of an American Dreamland, 1861-2008! Working on this exhibition, curated by Robin Jaffee Frank at the Wadsworth Atheneum Museum of Art, has been a thrilling experience for me. It’s the first show I’ve organized at the Brooklyn Museum (and ever!), so it’s been a truly meaningful four months. In addition to learning more about artists with whom I’ve been long familiar, I was introduced to many new artists and have come to really love and appreciate Coney Island. Indeed, one of the biggest perks has been getting to spend time there, visiting Coney Island U.S.A., the Coney Island Circus Sideshow, and the studio of Marie Roberts.

So, in farewell to this exhibition and in hopes that everyone will come out for its last week, I leave you with this work by the artist Swoon. Her ethereal installation juxtaposes five portraits with the Cyclone, one of the last existing wooden roller coasters. The woman at center is in the process of erecting a structure, while the young boy, second from right, raises his fist in triumph as he stands behind a nest of baby birds. Given Swoon’s fascination with Coney Island’s ceaseless potential for magic and mystery, her three-dimensional dreamscape could represent a cautiously optimistic belief in the site’s continual rebirth.

In the film Requiem for a Dream (2000), addiction is paired with fantasies of satisfaction and success, as four characters encounter struggle in Brighton Beach and Coney Island. The story of aspirations and entrapments follows Harry (Jared Leto) and Tyrone (Marlon Wayans) as they attempt to become drug dealers, Harry’s mother Sara (Ellen Burstyn), as she diets aggressively in hopes of becoming a star on TV, and Harry’s girlfriend Marion (Jennifer Connelly), who wants to open a chic clothing store.

The film’s portrayal of Coney Island does not completely counter the optimism of earlier eras. Director Darren Aronofsky reinforces the theme of imagination, explaining “What unites all these characters is that they’re addicted to a fantasy and will use any means to get lost in that fantasy again and escape their present lives.” The image of Harry standing on Steeplechase Pier with the Parachute Jump in the background connects the dreams and risks of his character to the amusement park ride. The notion of falling into space from the top of the tower echoes both the film’s depictions of drug use and the aspirations of its protagonists.

Although the Coney Island of Requiem for a Dream is not realistic, it serves as a device of punctuation for characters who estrange themselves from normal life, attempting to use what would have otherwise been seen as weakness as a tool of stability and empowerment. The success of the journey is less important than the potential for transformation, causing the dreamstate of the film to function as the inescapable draw of Aronofsky’s unusual story.

In the year 1930, the extraordinary and elusive circus photographer, Edward J. Kelty, documented the Harlem Black Birds, an African American musical revue assembled for a performance at Coney Island. Known for his year-book style group portraits, here Kelty captures African American singers, dancers and musicians—many of whom are women sporting checkered hats and dresses—nestled among bosses, prop men, and other behind-the scenes workers and relatives.

The debonair man wearing a derby and bow tie, with a cigar in his hand at center of the small group on the bleachers is likely the legendary tap dancer King Rastus Brown. This racially stereotypical title was presumably a stage name. Even more problematic are the two blackface comics, whose makeup and gloves render them in this black and white photograph as racially ambiguous, standing atop right and left booths. These disconcerting details, in addition to the caricatured faces on the banner above the group, remind us that although Coney Island was a place of diversity, it was hardly free of racism. However, performing with the Black Birds gave these entertainers a rare chance to belong to an esteemed group as they introduced audiences in New York and Paris to African American music.

In the 1953 film, Little Fugitive, a seven year old boy named Joey flees to Coney Island after he mistakenly thinks he shot and killed his older brother. The production was written, directed and edited by Morris Engel, Ray Ashley and Ruth Orkin and stemmed from Engel's association with the New York Photo League, rather than a knowledge of Hollywood motifs. Orkin, who grew up and worked in Hollywood, edited the film and provided insider knowledge at a time when underground filmmaking was rare and the challenges prohibitive.

The film features Joey spending a weekend enjoying the sights and snacks of Coney Island as his older brother anxiously searches for him. Little Fugitive depicts Coney Island as a welcome space for a little boy, Joey blends into the faceless crowds and easily survives on soda bottle deposits. Both Engel and Orkin's photographic rigor is on demonstrated in the production still on view in Coney Island: Visions of an American Dreamland which renders the sand below the boardwalk as a both an abstraction of the sea and the American flag, similar to Frank Stella’s painting Coney Island (1958) on the opposite wall in the exhibition.

Little Fugitive is notable for its naturalistic style which used mostly non-professional actors and an innovative chest-mounted camera that allowed Engel to film the Coney Island crowds unnoticed. The technique—and its impressive results—proved hugely influential for avant-garde film, particularly for the French New Wave. The acclaimed director Francois Truffaut praised Little Fugitive stating: “Our New Wave would never have come into being if it hadn’t been for the young American Morris Engel, who showed us the way to independent production with [this] fine movie.” In a laid-back manner, Coney Island is presented as both a home-away-from-home and an open frontier welcoming exploration for the young and adventurous.

As urbanization and industrialization rapidly developed in the decades following the Civil War, the need for recreation and an escape from the bustling city did as well. This lively and colorful beach scene painted by British-born artist Samuel S. Carr captured Coney Island during a crucial moment of transition. The advent of the first train to the resort town in 1869 brought a consistent flow of “day trippers” to enjoy popular attractions and activities. By 1880, Sunday visitors numbered over 100,000, flocking to enjoy sunlight amidst seaside amusements as displayed in this vibrant 1879 painting.  Here, tintype photography, beach toys, donkey rides and puppet shows pose enveloping commercial distractions from the serenity of the ocean and horizon. Carr renders a multiplicity of crowds, including families and singles alike, whose backs face the seaside in pursuit of activity. The solitary couple in the backdrop at right, gazing out at the beauty of the shoreline, presents a distinct juxtaposition serving to highlight the boom of consumerism and its implicit link to childhood play and leisure. The elegantly dressed African American couple in the left backdrop, standing somewhat apart from close crowd of puppet show spectators, marks this artwork as a timely representation of the uneasy and historic diversity of Coney Island.

The artist Marie Roberts has strong family ties to Coney Island. Her grandfather was one of the firefighters that battled the blaze that destroyed Dreamland in 1911. Her uncle worked for the Dreamland Circus Sideshow in the 1920s while her father was the chauffeur for Zip—What Is It?, a well-known sideshow performer.

Roberts remains deeply connected to the history and culture of Coney Island. In 1997, she began painting banners for the Coney Island Circus Sideshow, a revival of the traditional ten-acts-for-one-price performance. This banner’s title, A Congress of Curious Peoples, was taken from one of the shows for the Dreamland Circus Sideshow.

On the left, Roberts pays homage to the past. Her uncle, Lester Roberts, raises his arm toward the cast, which includes Lionel the Lion-Faced Man (Stephan Bibrowski), the German-born, well-educated conversationalist and gymnast who had been trained as a dentist; Baron Paucci (Peppino Magro), the Sicilian-born womanizer billed as the “World’s Smallest Perfect Man;” Prince Randian (whose birth name is unknown), a British Guiana-born performer with tetra-amelia syndrome known for his ability to roll and light cigarettes with his lips; Zip—What Is it? (William Henry Johnson), an African American with a tapering cranium;  and Violetta (Aloisia Wagner), a German-born woman billed as the “Beautiful Armless and Legless Venus.”

On the right, the artist celebrates the present. Dick Zigun, the unofficial mayor of Coney Island and impresario of the Coney Island Circus Sideshow, gestures toward today’s performers: Pain, who pounds nails into his nose; a performer sitting on a bed of nails; a fire-eater based on Insectavora; a sword-swallower (Heather Holliday); and the tattoo-covered Eak the Geek (Eduardo Arrocha).