Last June in a midtown rehearsal studio, amid dancers and singers warming up, the board of PWP convened for its final meeting of the year. I was new and when someone said archives, I raised my hand. Old books and pictures are passions for me. I didn’t know much about PWP and it seemed a great place to start. But when I got over to the archives, I had second thoughts. They are in a storage facility on the west side of Chelsea, on a block with auto body shops and rough-looking folk. The building was cavernous, with green lockers reminiscent of a morgue, an elevator the size of a living room, and lights on a timer that liked to [continue reading...]