Untitled Document

	Penelope (Penny) Grill - Paintings of the Loft Penelope (Penny) Grill, also an artist, worked as the cashier at the Loft Party. These paintings document the spirit and madness from those wild nights at the Loft. When I lived at 99 Prince Street, in SoHo, I worked at the Loft party, which was downstairs on the first floor and basement of the building. I was the cashier and reception/reservationist. I collected the contributions from hundreds of party goers every Saturday night for years. The doors opened at midnight and the weekly celebration lasted well into the late afternoon the next day. The crowd was a diverse mix of the New York after-hours dance subculture. Watching the dynamics of the dance floor and refreshment areas was fascinating. The dancing was the best and the music and atmosphere electrifying, far beyond what any other party in town offered. The dancing continued for many hours after I went home. I was lulled to sleep by the thumping disco beat which traveled up the back of building through air conditioning ducts and through the structural walls of the building. Later, when I awoke, the floors were still vibrating as the party continued four floors below me. When I stepped outside, blinking in the brilliant afternoon sun, on my way to get something at the bodega, I saw party folks leaving the dance, still gyrating to the beat, as they headed up the street to the trains back to Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens and Uptown or walking to the East side.

Penelope (Penny) Grill - Paintings of the Loft

Penelope (Penny) Grill, also an artist, worked as the cashier at the Loft Party. These paintings document the spirit and madness from those wild nights at the Loft.

When I lived at 99 Prince Street, in SoHo, I worked at the Loft party, which was downstairs on the first floor and basement of the building. I was the cashier and reception/reservationist. I collected the contributions from hundreds of party goers every Saturday night for years. The doors opened at midnight and the weekly celebration lasted well into the late afternoon the next day. The crowd was a diverse mix of the New York after-hours dance subculture. Watching the dynamics of the dance floor and refreshment areas was fascinating. The dancing was the best and the music and atmosphere electrifying, far beyond what any other party in town offered. The dancing continued for many hours after I went home. I was lulled to sleep by the thumping disco beat which traveled up the back of building through air conditioning ducts and through the structural walls of the building. Later, when I awoke, the floors were still vibrating as the party continued four floors below me. When I stepped outside, blinking in the brilliant afternoon sun, on my way to get something at the bodega, I saw party folks leaving the dance, still gyrating to the beat, as they headed up the street to the trains back to Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens and Uptown or walking to the East side.