tiny door

Hear the name the Witch’s Cottage and you might conjure a mystical vision. And inside the new North Hollywood space, here there be witches, yes. But that’s just the start of it.

In one area of the two-story cafe, restaurant and bar, constellations beckon. A guide to crystals calls forth in another. An azure booth is flanked by an abstracted mermaid sculpture, and elsewhere howling wolves are engraved into the bar tops.

Witch’s Cottage co-founder Celina Lee Surniak, left, with investor/partner Ana Lovelis and co-founder Danielle Ozymandias. The three envisioned a welcoming space that views the world through a magical lens.

Hidden wonders are everywhere. Circle the cottage’s hand-constructed tree trunks, and maybe, if you’re lucky, you’ll spy a tiny door hiding a little witch. Sit at one of the tables, and don’t be surprised to hear the sounds of birds chirping from the man-made trees. Branches spring forth from paintings and every nook is a nod to something born of a fable.

A decade-long vision of the founders, the Witch’s Cottage has transformed the old Federal Bar into a colorful, whimsical fairy-tale-like forest of a gathering spot. A place where one can come for the fantasy, and stay for the chicken etouffee and the Hex Breaker, a tiki-style, rum-heavy drink for grown-up sorcerers.

“I wanted this to feel lived in,” says Danielle Ozymandias, who dreamed up the space with business partner Celina Lee Surniak, a fellow creative who like Ozymandias very much identifies as a witch. “I wanted this to be a visual feast because I think maximalism is just so interesting. That may be the ADHD talking, but I knew I wanted a lot.”

The dining room of the Witch’s Cottage aims for a fantasy forest-inspired look.

While they certainly designed the Witch’s Cottage to be family-friendly, Surniak and Ozymandias say part of their creative intent was to bring joy to adults.

“Everybody tries to shame you,” Surniak says. “Like, ‘You can’t buy that coffee. Save your money.’ No, let them have the coffee they really love. Let them get that annual pass to Disneyland. Let them have a weekly night at the movies, even if they go alone. The world is so weird right now. What we can do is find joy in tiny things.

A fairy at a media preview for North Hollywood’s new Witch’s Cottage.

“Being able to give adults the opportunity to say ‘I’m a fairy,’ is the best feeling ever,” Surniak continues. “And it’s not just at Renaissance fairs. Be a fairy here.”

Or be anyone. A sign near one of the restaurant’s restrooms makes it clear it doesn’t matter which one guests use. It asks that they simply wash their hands. “You can walk in as a witch, or a dragon, or just a FedEx worker,” Ozymandias says. “There’s no judgment.”

The Witch’s Cottage had its grand opening this weekend, and the community immediately responded with lines out the door. That wasn’t entirely surprising — the project was built by a collective. More than 200 volunteers donated more than 3,000 hours to bring the space to life, and the two founders attracted more than 100 investors via an online crowd-funding campaign that raised more than $167,000.

“We’re regular people,” Surniak says. “We don’t have a lot of money. We don’t have a nest egg. We don’t own property. If we were going to do anything, we would need help.”

Surniak says within three days of creating their campaign, they found an angel investor who offered them the funds to secure the building. Other investors followed, including Ana Lovelis and her husband Kenny Enea, known in the area for the elaborate haunted houses they have hosted at their home. The two joined as creative partners and helped with construction. Lovelis says she recognized in the Witch’s Cottage a similar outlook on life as hers. She recalled once years ago dating someone who had a skeptical and practical view of the world.

“And then there was me, being like, ‘That butterfly is a sign from my grandma,’” Lovelis says. The Witch’s Cottage, she says, is reflective of viewing the world through a magical lens. At a time of much stress for many, such a place may be needed. As Lovelis says, “What’s the harm?”

The Witch’s Cottage is a two-story space that serves as a cafe during the day and a restaurant at night. Dinner service begins at 5 p.m.

Surniak still has a day job, working as a stunt and intimacy coordinator on theatrical and Hollywood productions. Ozymandias, who previously worked in the local theater world, is focusing primarily on the Witch’s Cottage at the moment, helping to devise recipes and ensure the bakery can accommodate as many dietary restrictions as possible.

Beyond new menu items, there’s more in the works, including community events like sound baths, comedy nights and classes on composting, native plants and parenting. Or even some workshops that are more lighthearted, such as a hoped-for night on how to make a broom.

Hidden behind the upstairs bar is what’s called the Tempered Flask Tavern, and it’s an elaborate tabletop role-playing game room. Here, one will find a smoke-puffing dragon, but also digital windows that game masters can use to trigger various effects. A long table sits at its center, flanked by a knight, a digital fireplace and weaponry. Not open yet, the plan is for the room to be rented out by the hour.

The Tempered Flask Tavern is a hidden room dedicated to tabletop games inside the Witch’s Cottage. It will be available soon for guests to rent out.

Though Surniak and Ozymandias say they’ve been building vision boards for more than a decade of what the spot could look like, recent cultural shifts gave them the confidence that the timing was right. They point to “Stranger Things” and how it spawned a conversation around “Dungeons & Dragons,” or the success of Disney+ series “Agatha All Along.” More locally, they watched the rise of a game-focused bar such as the Roguelike Tavern, which is relocating to Studio City, as well as the news that experiential art firm Meow Wolf would be building an exposition in the city.

Taken as a whole, they felt bolstered that North Hollywood could support a heavily themed cafe, a home for those who have rolled a 20-sided die, once looked up the meaning of the Tower card or just enjoyed a viewing of “The Lord of the Rings.”

But one need not know the inner workings of RPGs, tarot or Middle-earth to feel at home in the Witch’s Cottage. This is a space, after all, for anyone who has ever been touched by a fairy tale, dreamed of the fantastical or wanted to believe in the power of wishing upon a star.

Views from inside North Hollywood’s the Witch’s Cottage.

So spend a little time in the Witch’s Cottage, and maybe you’ll start to imagine that cocktail is a potion, and those deviled eggs did in fact hatch from a dragon. Diners may debate between the “iron forged fondue melt” (a patty melt) or the “meze heartwich” (a white bean purée on sourdough), but childlike wonder is the specialty of the house.

“Everybody is somebody’s kid,” Ozymandias says. “And I just want a safe space for people’s kids. Even if you’re 50, or 80, you’re my kid. I want you to feel loved, and to have a cup of something warm or magical. I want you to know that whatever is outside those doors, when you’re in here, I got you.”

Pasadena Playhouse’s take on Peter Shaffer’s “Amadeus” may be the Tony Award-winning regional theater’s most lavish production to date.

The show, which opens Sunday, features a scrim that has been hand-painted with the notes of Mozart’s “Phantasie für eine Orgelwalze.” The entire process, done by a team of three, took eight days from start to finish. When the scrim is illuminated, the golden notes appear to be suspended like stars in the sky.

Mozart’s sister, Maria Anna “Nannerl,” handwrote many of the genius composer’s compositions, and Playhouse head painter Johnny LeBlanc said the group worked to create an exact replica of her strokes. That attention to detail at every level is emblematic of this elaborate show.

Director Darko Tresnjak (center) during “Amadeus” rehearsal at Pasadena Playhouse. Tresnjak is known for exploring the intellectual and emotional foibles of each character in a play.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

The play is as rich in talent as it is in design. It stars Broadway veteran and Tony winner Jefferson Mays as Salieri, Sam Clemmett as Mozart and Lauren Worsham as Constanze, and is directed by Darko Tresnjak, who won a Tony in 2014 for “A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder.”

The red-and-gold, Baroque and Rococo aesthetics of the show, including the forced perspective of scenic designer Alexander Dodge’s set, which makes a royal room seem to disappear into the distance, were meticulously constructed to reflect the twisted interiority of Salieri as he grapples with his seething hatred for the scatological young upstart as it crashes against his cascading awe of Mozart’s divine music.

• Share via Close extra sharing options

“The entire play really takes place in a mental space,” Tresnjak said during a recent rehearsal. “That location is Salieri’s increasingly addled brain and what happens within that brain strikes me as eminently contemporary.”

Mays called “Amadeus” a “memory play,” noting that “every aspect of this production is exploring that — it’s all filtered through the warped, distorted memories and imaginings of its unreliable narrator.”

The Pasadena Playhouse has one of the few remaining on-site scene shops in the industry, and its staff of designers, carpenters and painters created elaborate wall sconces and candle holders that become smaller and smaller as they move to the back of the stage, toward two tiny doors in the center. At one point in the show, actor Matthew Patrick Davis, who plays Emperor Joseph II, steps through the doors.

“Amadeus” director Tresnjak says the key to his lavish productions is a strong community of artists, rather than a big budget. “It’s all smoke and mirrors,” he said.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times )

Mays describes the moment as “delicious” because Davis is quite tall and thin — even more so in his 2-inch, 18th century heels — and when he unfurls his body into the room and proceeds down the stage, the audience realizes what a gigantic figure he is in Salieri’s mind.

“It’s all shot through with these ‘Alice in Wonderland’ moments of surrealism,” Mays said. “It feels like a fever dream.”

Music is key to Salieri’s world, and the sound design by Jane Shaw strives to access the otherworldly power of Mozart’s music through layered backing tracks. An electric keyboard programmed to sound like a fortepiano is also embedded in a handcrafted instrument, which actors with musical training can play.

A fortepiano is being built for “Amadeus” at Pasadena Playhouse. A small electronic keyboard will be embedded within so actors with musical training can actually play it.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

Tresnjak has a long history directing with L.A. Opera and its departing music director, James Conlon, worked with Clemmett on conducting. He also gave the actor a history lesson about what the art form would have been like in Mozart’s time. Jeffrey Bernstein, the founding artistic and executive director of the Pasadena Chorale, drilled the cast on their chorale passages.

The key to creating such a richly textured theatrical environment is not a bloated budget, said Tresnjak, it’s engaging a whole community of artists — onstage and backstage — and giving them free reign to set their creativity loose. Pasadena Playhouse, which is known for being a resourceful company, made that easy, he added.

The show is buoyed by its classic stagecraft, with flats, escape stairs and rolling platforms. There is no computer automation and anything that moves is moved manually, said associate artistic director Jenny Slattery, pointing out the theater’s antiquated hand winches that control a mobile throne.

“There is something magical that comes from a resonance between the subject matter and the aesthetic and the behind-the-scenes techniques,” said Slattery.

A sketch and fabric swatch for Venticelli’s costume in “Amadeus” at Pasadena Playhouse. The costume is the same red as the set walls, so the character will seem to fade in and out of Salieri’s consciousness.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

Linda Cho designed the costumes and L.A. Opera fabricated the extravagant 18th century garments, which Slattery said have become a “staff tourist attraction.” The fabric was sourced in New York and shipped to L.A.; the ribbons were made by hand. Mays said he got giddy and breathless when he first stepped into his costume.

L.A. Opera fabricated the costumes for “Amadeus” with fabric sourced from New York.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

“It makes all the difference when you know that your sleeves are cut in a bias and your arms have to do certain things,” he explained. “I find a costume, particularly the costumes of this late 18th century period, to be so informative about physicality and how you move.”

In rehearsal, Mays fully inhabits his role — and his costume — moving with a lithe formality as he strives to eavesdrop on Mozart and Constanze. His revulsion and deep attraction are on full display. The actor said it is not his intention to play Salieri as a mustache-twirling villain, but rather as human, recognizable and understandable.

Details on the sleeve of a jacket made by L.A. Opera.

(Ariana Drehsler / For The Times)

“We are all Salieri to varying degrees,” Mays said. “What interests me are everyman aspects of him. The banality of his evil and the way that evil actions seem to always rise out of fear and insecurity.”

The lighting design by Pablo Santiago helps manifest Salieri’s uncomfortable emotions onstage.

“Darko is someone who likes to work in more of the intellectual, emotional space rather than realism. So a lot of it is about using the set in a more abstract way,” said Santiago. “It’s about shapes and color and creating full stage pictures that are interesting.”

The story of Salieri and Amadeus, said Mays, is one of twisted love. Salieri gets up every morning and tries to destroy that which he loves most. Playing the troubled antihero is “not altogether pleasant,” Mays said, “because you’re marinating in this cesspool of thwarted ambitions and inadequacy, but then you’re surrounded by this beauty that is a constant reminder of your own failings.”

When the curtain finally rises, the cast and crew hope the stage will be its own thing of beauty — its ambition fully realized.