Frank O’Hara, “Nocturne”
notaqueensphotoblog.tumblr.com
My photography strives to capture the contradictions, diversity, and unconventional beauty—considered blight by some—that manifests itself everyday on the streets I walk in Queens, NYC. I am particularly interested in illustrations of immigrant life, signage, street art, found objects, and the mutually symbiotic relationship of spatial separation that the boroughs have with Manhattan and its mythic skyline.
I am continually enthralled by this city, where a 15 minute subway ride can transport one into areas with diametrically contrasting visual surroundings, inequality, and city services. In short, the opulence and gleam of Manhattan would simply not be possible without the scraggly allure and latent radiance of the oft-neglected boroughs I strive to document.
honored to be featured on lensblr!
here is my collaborative final project for my amazing global soccer, global politics course this semester: global soccer, global nyc.
soccer in nyc reimagined through the rivalries, identity, migration, and politics of the world’s game in the preeminent global city.
Calvin was living Uptown before Katrina. He was evacuated to seven different cities starting with San Antonio, TX. But, he managed to get back. After he did he opened his own barber shop. When asked what he would say to New Yorkers, he paused for a minute before he said it’s not about the material things…
"As hundreds of thousands of Big Apple residents suffer in homes left without power by Hurricane Sandy, two massive generators are being run 24/7 in Central Park — to juice a media tent for Sunday’s New York City Marathon.And a third “backup” unit sits idle, in case one of the generators fails. The three diesel-powered generators crank out 800 kilowatts — enough to power 400 homes in ravaged areas like Staten Island, the Rockaways and downtown Manhattan."
(Source: felixsalmon)
This strangest of islands…
This strangest of islands, I thought, as I looked out to the sea, this island that turned in on itself, and from which water had been banished. The shore was a carapace, permeable only at certain selected points. Where in this riverine city could one fully sense a riverbank?
The water was a kind of embarrassing secret, the unloved daughter, neglected, while the parks were doted on, fussed over, overused.
I knelt, and trailed my hand in the Hudson. It was frigid. Here we all were, ignoring that water, paying as little attention as possible to the pair of black eternities between which our little light intervened.
— Three quotes about New Yorkers’ relationship with the water, from Teju Cole’s Open City.
woods - rain on
