Big City, Small City

January 2010

Amadu stopped me in the street one day in January, and began talking to me. After a few minutes, I realized that he is a local celebrity. He talks with half the people that pass him by, and works all over the neighborhood. Even though I have left Chinatown, I try to come by and hang out with Amadu for a little while each time I'm around. It is beginning to become ritual, to talk about how nobody else helps to keep the street clean, the neighborhood, work, change. Amadu also poses for tourists as the Statue of Liberty. I took a picture of him 14 months ago, before we became friends. I was stunned when I realized this, since New York City can seem so big sometimes, and then again so small.

Small, yet personal relationships are beginning to have an impact on my photography. Usually I take the "grab and go" approach to taking photographs of people on the street, avoiding all personal interaction. It has been a new experience for me to make a connection before I bring out the camera, that establishment of trust that takes the right moment to ask for a picture. It wouldn't matter if Amadu had said no, but in fact I couldn't get him to just be natural and not pose! His interaction with the camera was almost mechanical for him. Striking peace signs, sweeping at half speed, and making sure we were in good light for the portrait.

Sal's Barber Shop

Welcome to Little Italy, in case you have not had the chance to visit via blogs past. As I have previously spoken, it can be rare to get a true experience of this neighborhood. Saturday proved otherwise for me, when Lisa and I were invited into Sal's Barber Shop several times throughout our visit next door, at the Italian American Museum. We got the grand tour of both Sal's and the museum, learning a lot of personal histories throughout the day. Lisa is working on a project in this neck of the wood, and soon to come will be a quick collection from inside the museum. Have a seat, stay for a trim!

Trash, everywhere

You remember that snow, that blizzard that hit New York just after Christmas?  The city slowed down to a halt, and there was only quiet whisper of cars over the muffled blankets of snow.  It was beautiful, for a day or two, and quite charming to be knee deep in soft powder.  That fun has worn off, has shed its beauty, and now a week's worth of trash has piled up even higher than the forecast accumulation.  I guess the sanitation department has some catching up to do.

A day in the life between two bridges.  Sometimes it is all white smiles and clean sheets... but sometimes everything is covered in a bed of filth.  God, I love New York.

One more thing. Happy New Year! May it be more photographic than the last!

Winter in NYC

The Nor'easter that hit yesterday made traffic in New York City slow to a slippery, drunken stagger. Cars and trucks marooned everywhere, winds heaving snow from rooftops.  It was a good day for cold fingertips and dripping noses, for eating snow and puddle hopping.

SantaCon: The quest for St. Nick

There is nothing like a bit of good anarchy in the streets, and SantaCon is one of those afternoons where New Yorkers don a Santa Suit and join thousands of strangers for a bit of anonymous debauchery.  Most of the Village was packed with Santas, and everyone who was not in a red suit was instead wearing a look of awe and confusion.  I couldn't help to think that there should be a lot more days like this in New York City.  Assembling in great numbers, forcing the public and the police to accept the temporary insanity, Santa took over the city (and made it very possible for some Saturday afternoon street photography).

My favorite out of all the hordes of people, were the elves protecting the real Santa.  "NO PICTURES PLEASE," they shouted, as they rushed the real St. Nick from my lens.  They seemed to be having a lot of fun while staying in character, and interacting with everyone else. 
 

Cheers to the elves for keeping Santa safe from those evil paparazzi photographers!

More from the edge of Queens

Emerald city, otherwise known as "The Hole".  In the short time spent here, I was told that the streets are flooded like this after rain, and that the cowboys come through every so often.  Nearby to Emerald City are a group of city riders known as the Federation of Black Cowboys.  I was hoping to talk to some of them, and perhaps get their photograph, but  I was not so lucky this time. 

These neighborhoods are beginning sit at the edge of my consciousness, between the soft tissue and skull.  There are small stories here, short histories to be told.  I'm trying not to forget that some places sink, and others keep rising out of the layers of old.  

One thing I forgot I missed...

Detector

 For the entire summer I am away from the east coast, lucky enough to be traveling for work, but there is one thing I miss dearly in those sweltering weeks.  All summer I am landlocked, with no chance to see the beach or the oceans.  I am enchanted by the sea.  To get there, some friends and I went down, to the end of the A, further out than Coney Island and many other of the City shore points, to the Rockaways. 

Sandcastle

We walked and found native foods, walked along the ebb and flow of the tide coming in.  I let the water flow up and over the seams of my boots, bringing some of the ocean home with me (hopefully tonight, when I get home, I can reduce the water, and make seasalt I thought to myself).  It was a reassuring feeling to see the place where ocean meets land.  I have always been enchanted by the sea, and in a way that I cannot explain, it helps me to confirm that I am not walking in a dream.  Science has not fully been able to explain the mind or consciousness, but somehow the ocean does it for me. 

Sunbather

The end of summer, last of the street festivals

It was a sausage fest

 "It was basically a sausage fest," my brother, Nicholas later said.  And that was true.  It was one of the better days I have had in a long time.  I always do enjoy when all of us men get together, for my brothers are at least starting to look like men, and somehow we often manage an adventure out of each afternoon.  Gene, my father, was given a rude awakening when the police asked him to toss his open container.  "Aahh, the old days are gone," he said, or something to that effect.  I use to remember walking around the prospect park area with him, beer in paper bag. I think he enjoyed a cold one out in the park.

The Parade

These pictures are from a few weeks ago, but hey, sometimes I get to them right away, and sometimes I don't.

In the San Genarro Festival, you can see that many things change, while others stay the same.  Little Italy is not what it use to be.  I live in an apartment that was at one time an Italian neighborhood.  This tenement building, well south of Canal, has long been a predominantly Chinese neighborhood.  At San Genarro they did extend the festival from Canal to just short of Houston on Mulberry, but normally Little Italy is much more compact in its reach.  It was a great day, walking from the dumpling festival, through the Lower East Side, and then back again to Mulberry.  The warmth felt like an extension of summer.  There is no better way to end the season of the street fairs by having Zeppolis, Sausage, Dumplings, Belgian fries, Empanadas, and sliders in your stomach all at once, and a long walk to burn the food off!

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