Pittsburgh's South Side, Resurrected

Curt Sell is using the concentrated beam of sunlight to fuse shards of colored glass in a large tray. He tells me he's depicting the third temptation of Christ. The ugly factory behind him, the 1889 Duquesne Brewery, is actually his home. In 1991, it became the Brew House, with spaces carved for galleries, apartments and performances; it's a cooperative where two dozen residents exchange volunteer time for breaks on rent.

"The first time I walked in here, it was one big, dark space with lots of territories and tons of junk. Metal artists were welding and grinding," remembers Tom Sarver, 31, who stages the annual Black Sheep Puppet Festival in the Brew House's huge, chilly theater. As Sarver talks, I'm distracted by a lithe woman in tights who methodically seizes a theater drape, shimmies 20 feet above our heads and turns upside down. The acrobat is Erin Carey, 25, a performer with the Zany Umbrella Circus. The troupe, with its own circus band, needs the expansive space to rehearse its next show. "It's either this or my parents' tree," Carey says.

"We leave the door open. Anyone who's walking down the street can come in and watch," says Benjamin Sota, the circus's 25-year-old founder. "The hodgepodge of the South Side makes it receptive to us -- a circus is a hodgepodge, too."

"I like the mix. It's vibrant and gritty," agrees Texas transplant Val Cox, 52. The painter uses a nearby 1860s wagon shop as his home and studio. An in-line skater, he often ends the day with a workout on the riverfront trail, three blocks away. "Come out with us. We'll teach you how to go fast!" he says. I promise to try.

Back on East Carson, waiters are sweeping in front of sidewalk tables, and the thump of guitar amps promises the usual busy night for clubs and restaurants. Hard-rock venues here, such as the Smiling Moose, Lava Lounge and the Rex, have been joined by events such as Soulcialism. The monthly raves blast rare Motown platters at the tattered White Eagle, another fraternal lodge.

I turn the corner and climb the stoop at Dish, an upscale bistro that offers Mediterranean specialties. When I reemerge after dinner, East Carson Street has turned into a boardwalk. Tides of dressed-up young women and dressed-down young men surge and flirt. Bass notes throb from open car windows in a long line of traffic. A freight train screeches past. I decide to get off the street before the zombies come back. A starry night promises a clear tomorrow for a workout.

The neighborhood's volume has been turned to mute in the morning. Even the river is moving slowly. Following Cox's suggestion, I strap on skates to try the trail. The recreation path alongside the Mon offers an easy six-mile tour (other links stretch by the Ohio and Allegheny).

I blade to its eastern end, passing water-bikers and kayakers launching from Riverfront Park at 18th Street. A single twig freezes my right skate, and I pitch forward awkwardly. As I jerk upright, avoiding disaster, I glimpse my shadow stretching along the path: an alarmingly realistic and stiff-armed zombie, lunging contentedly along the South Side.

Christine H. O'Toole last wrote for Travel about York, England.