My public show, "Nothing Here Is Real" ran for over a year at Oxbow Tavern on 73rd and Columbus in NYC. It was one of my favorite projects because I poured way more personal information into it than I do for private appearances. Telling stories about my grandparents while interweaving illusions was an activity that filled me with joy. Then, right when we were about to ramp up the quantity of performances, Covid struck.
It was hard for a while. I would be going through boxes in my dusty garage, and to my surprise, stumble upon a treasure trove of hundreds of old postcards that were once used to promote the show. The memories of the past flooded back, reminding me of the excitement and anticipation that surrounded the show's opening night.
The venue where the show took place, the Oxbow Tavern, no longer exists, a relic of the past, and so the postcards couldn't be reused to promote any potential future runs. So into the garbage they went...
I had a similar experience with RedBull. I hardly ever drink it, but it became a routine to have one on show days. It ended up being over a year before I drank one again, and was instantly transported back to my show-prepping mindframe.
It made me really want to revisit the show, but I knew that finding a new venue would be difficult. I was hung up on one aspect of the show that was deeply intertwined with the venue's essence - a beautiful antique pool table which served as a focal point for a large portion of the show, captivating the audience with its timeless allure and adding an element of sophistication to the performances.
Finding another venue with something like that would be so difficult that I almost didn't want to start looking. But in much the same way that fate led me to the old venue, I was serendipitously thrust into the Algonquin Hotel. Sure, there was no pool table. But the Oak Room had some qualities that I knew would enhance the show tremendously. So here we are, back on our feet. And I'm thrilled to announce that you can get tickets now! Here's a shot from opening night:
(will travel)
© 2025
Gary Ferrar