Paul Christiansen
In an obscure corner of New Orleans’ Bywater neighborhood, tucked in tight between the quiet Industrial Canal levee and the bustling St. Claude Avenue bridge, a corrugated metal wall stands rusted in a half-hidden circle behind a row of trees. An arrow proclaiming “Enter Here” points to a dirt path disappearing around the wall’s left side, meandering along while muffled clanks and metal sounds whisper from the right.
The path ends abruptly at a wide, open door—the sounds from within now louder and more distinct, promising an experience beyond the norm. This is the Music Box Village—a shanty town pieced together from found objects and donated treasures, a musical haven vibrating with an all-encompassing energy. It’s also the flagship project of New Orleans Airlift, a non-profit that works to connect and foster opportunities for artists.
At first glance, the hodge-podge collection of playhouses seems to have jumped straight off the pages of a children’s storybook. They are scattered throughout the property, each a unique glimpse into an artist’s imagination. A magical gazebo stands beside a human-sized bird cage; a water tower guards over the yard, across from an elevator reminiscent of Willy Wonka’s. Metal steps ascend into tree houses, leading to views of both the Village and the Bywater just outside.
Paul Christiansen
The structures each hold an element in common, though. They beg to be explored. You won’t find a sign here warning, “Don’t touch”. Grab a drumstick and start banging away on the garbage lids and upcycled colanders. Tug on ropes and experiment with the varying, albeit eerie, wind sounds they create.
"A magical gazebo stands beside a human-sized bird cage; a water tower guards over the yard, across from an elevator reminiscent of Willy Wonka’s. Metal steps ascend into tree houses, leading to views of both the Village and the Bywater just outside." —Kristy Christiansen
Mid-afternoon on a recent Saturday, a blur of toddlers and young children rushed from one house to the next. They opened doors, pressed buttons, flipped switches, and played the guitar string railings. A Mardi Gras Indian called down from above, while a rubber flip-flop slapped out a tune on some pipes. Everything makes music. Emilia Oddo, Tulane assistant professor of Greek archaeology, laughed as her daughter spoke into a pay phone that broadcast her voice across the Village.
[Find Country Roads' full calendar of events, including live music in New Orleans, here.]
“We love coming here,” said Oddo. “It’s a fun and friendly atmosphere, where the kids can experiment with eclectic musical instruments in a stimulating environment. Meanwhile, the adults can chat, drink, and take it all in.”
Paul Christiansen
It’s quirky and fun, and not just for kids. As dusk darkens to an inky black night, the lights flicker on, illuminating the shanty village in an ethereal spotlight. On the night we visited, House Band leader Andy Page and his fellow members exited the shadows and spread out across the Village. They conjured images of circus performers returning to their makeshift town after an evening’s show, ready to relax and play their own style of entertainment. Page carefully tuned a door and set an ambient loop running between each of the houses, before pulling out his saxophone and launching into a jazzy tune. Another member joined in on trumpet, and a third drummed out a masterful beat on old kitchenware.
“We facilitate collaboration, making a creative space for people who otherwise wouldn’t engage,” said McDermott. “Strangers who might never interact find themselves playing music together. It builds community, empathy, trust.”
“It never fails. About thirty minutes into us playing, about seventy-five percent of the audience joins in,” said Page, who splits his time between the Music Box and playing jazz gigs across the city. “It’s about setting a beat for the people who go in and don’t know how to interact with the houses. We make them feel more comfortable.”
Overseeing the performance and her crew under the metaphorical Big Top, Director of Public Programs and Community Engagement at New Orleans Airlift Eliza McDermott stood wrapped in a bold, red jacket, striking the quintessential image of ringmaster. McDermott is continually finding ways to match community partners with the Village, while spearheading programs that involve the public, whether through Seasonal Music Box Village Open Hours, Sunday Brass Brunches, Art Markets, community education initiatives, and more.
“We facilitate collaboration, making a creative space for people who otherwise wouldn’t engage,” said McDermott. “Strangers who might never interact find themselves playing music together. It builds community, empathy, trust.”
Paul Christiansen
History of Music Box Village
The original Music Box Village was built in 2010, on Piety Street. The dilapidated late 1700s Creole cottage on cofounder Jay Pennington’s property became the cornerstone for an innovative idea to create musical, interactive architecture.
“We were going to do a three-month run, but it was so successful we stayed much longer,” said Delaney Martin, multi-media installation artist and cofounder of the Music Box Village and New Orleans Airlift. After Piety Street, they took the concept to the road, sending New Orleans artists to collaborate with local builders, artists, and musicians in cities as far away as Kiev, Ukraine. “This is a project born of New Orleans and speaks to our music, but when we do Outposts, we always find people to collaborate [with] and harness the cultural context of an area,” said Martin.
[Read about the unusual new community arts center, The Twin Steeples, in Ponchatoula here.]
Locally, the group created another Music Box Village in 2015 for a stint in New Orleans’ City Park, before the concept found its forever home on North Rampart Street a year later. Over the years, countless musicians have played the venue, from Wilco and Norah Jones to Lost Bayou Ramblers and the Preservation Hall Jazz Band.
“This is a project born of New Orleans and speaks to our music, but when we do Outposts, we always find people to collaborate [with] and harness the cultural context of an area,” said Martin.
“In the last five years, we took a big risk taking on a lease. The shows were keeping us afloat, and they were coming fast and furious,” said Martin. “Some big grants from the National Endowment for the Arts and New Music USA have [now] allowed us to slow down. We’re now stabilized and recalibrating. The projects are more grounded in community, and we can focus on the site itself.”
The Artists
Music Box Village’s most recent artist-in-residence was musician and artist Lonnie Holley, who designed a tribute to the American bald eagle trapped in a cage, away from her young, titled “The Sound of Freedom in Captivity”. The musical house installation is an iteration of his “Freedom in Chains” sculpture. “This visual allegory about America’s broken promise is also a literal instrument for liberation,” said McDermott. “Sound artist Davis Hart built a function into the bars of the cage featuring a vocal harmonizing effect. Holley, and other singers in the future, will be able to stand within the cage with the mother eagle during performance and sing.”
Paul Christiansen
Considered one of America’s most revered contemporary folk artists, Holley, McDermott said, was selected for this residency because of his affinity for using found objects in his work. “Like Holley, we believe much can be made from what others discard,” she said. “His experimental and improvisational musical style is a great match for our unconventional approach to music making at Music Box Village.”
Every piece at the Village holds some such story, germinated from the artists who conceived them and shifting with the musicians who make them their own.
She then pointed toward an elevator off to the side, explaining that it was a collaboration between American music artist Christine Sun Kim, who is deaf, and Richard Snow, Tulane professor of Practice, Music Science, and Technology. “Christine and her friends would close the doors on an elevator and scream so they could feel the vibrations,” she said. “We helped her recreate that here.”
Every piece at the Village holds some such story, germinated from the artists who conceived them and shifting with the musicians who make them their own.
“The artists trust us and see their artwork as an evolving creature through artists and musicians. It’s the spirit of the project,” said Martin. “But this is more than an art project. It’s everyone coming together. As much as we use this for play, we also use it as a place to hold dialogue. It’s a metaphorical utopia, where we talk about how to make the world a better place. We share resources and build together. It’s a place to come together and build a better world.”
