Back to work photographing the Lower East Side. I spent several hours late yesterday walking around the East Village. For many people, especially newcomers, the Lower East Side is a relatively small area between Houston and East Broadway excluding Chinatown. But historically, the LES was/is much larger. The tendency in New York, which is obviously driven by the real estate industry, is to parcel the city into smaller and smaller districts with catchy names. It all began with Soho, of course, (south of Houston), and there was an effort–not altogether successful—to call Hell’s Kitchen Clinton. My apartment at Stanton and the Bowery is on the edge of Nolita, (north Little Italy). And so on. For the purpose of my project, the Lower East Side extends from 14th Street to the Brooklyn Bridge, and its western boundary is the Bowery/3rd Avenue. The East River, naturally defines the eastern boundary.

Houston and Avenue B

It was late, and the sun was setting, so I walked along Houston Street, which opens up more to the sky. I photographed the corner of Houston and Avenue B–not for the first time–where a new apartment building is almost finished. Next to it is a tenement with a windowless wall, created decades ago when Houston was widened, which nowadays serves as advertising space.

I continued up Avenue B and did several photographs of the 6th and B community garden noteworthy for the tall sculptural construction towering over it. I’ve tried a couple of times to photograph the garden, but either it’s been closed, or the light wasn’t right, whatever. This evening there was still a warm glow of light bouncing around, and I managed to shoot several views with the view camera. It was difficult moving around the narrow paths through the lush vegetation.

Joe Strummer memorial, 7th and Avenue A

Around the corner at 7th and A I arrived at the painted memorial to Joe Strummer, the great rock and roll genius of The Clash. The mural, by Zephyr and Dr. Revolt, is on a north facing wall, which in Manhattan means in shade except for summer mornings. So I’d been planning on photographing it on a cloudy day or in the evening, like now. The painting of the mural was the basis for a video of Strummer’s version of Redemption Song, written by Bob Marley. Here is the video on YouTube:

From there I walked across East 7th to 2nd Avenue where I paused to make a photograph of Gem Spa, the newsstand and soda fountain that has been a fixture of the East Village since I moved to the neighborhood in 1977. Having run out of 4×5 film, I headed back down 2nd Avenue to my apartment. Along the way, I photographed this storefront psychic between 4th and 5th Streets with my digital camera.

Second Avenue between 4th and 5th

The future is unwritten.
–Joe Strummer

After a few days in Amsterdam I am back in New York with work to do–photographing a newly restored synagogue and doing more Lower East Side photographs. Driving into Manhattan by taxi I heard that a plane had crashed into a building on the Upper East Side, which sent a momentary shiver of deja vue through me. It turned out to be a minor, though dramatic, accident with two deaths, one of them a pitcher for the New York Yankees. I’ve been up in helicopters around Manhattan four times to take photographs, and I’ve seen the level of traffic and lack of space. One has to wonder whether private planes should be allowed to fly freely in this area.

This morning I did my usual breakfast around the corner and snapped a picture of the construction of the New Museum at Prince and the Bowery.

Olomouc, the Czech Republic

Olomouc is a city of only 100,000, and about 20,000 are students at the local university. So, while the city is small it is a relatively lively place, and the university helps make cultural events, like the documentary film festival I attended, possible. We didn’t have much time for sightseeing, but my wife Renée and I walked the old city for about three hours, and poked into a few churches and courtyards. Although the history of Olomouc goes back centuries, the Baroque period is most evident, especially the fountains and statues found in the principal town squares.

Model of Olomouc historic center

Astronomical clock, city hall, 1953

Communist era architecture across from Gothic church

Titty Twister skateboard shop

The Communist period did some damage to the fabric of the old city, but the most obvious legacy of that time is found outside the center where large spread-out housing blocks were contructed. Since then, shopping centers with western chain stores have siphoned off some of the commercial vitality from the center. There is a curious mixture of new and old–cheap, unfashionable clothing and trendy casual wear–traditional arts and crafts shops vs. skateboards and sneakers. A MacDonalds has landed on the main square in front of the city hall.

Exhibit poster for my show

Wall with film festival/Vega concert poster–the orange ones

The most amazing thing we saw was the Archdiocese Museum in the Olomouc Castle. The castle is actually a collection of structures spanning the entire history of the city. The museum opened earlier this year. It is an ultra modern insertion into the historic architecture with ramps and passageways leading down to the ancient foundations of the castle. The contrast between modern and ancient is brilliantly handled by the architects. The museum contains the most important treasures of the city including a gilded coach (formerly used by the bishop), religious relics, paintings, and a spinnet which was used by Mozart while staying in Olomouc in the 18th century. The cathedral adjoining the museum is actually neo-gothic, largely built in the 19th century, though pieces of the earlier church building remain.

Archdiocese Museum

Archdiocese Museum grounds and St. Wenceslas Cathedral

From Olomouc we drove the four hours back to Prague where Suzanne again performed in a wonderful small theater seating about 300. The event was a book launch by our host David Hrbek who has been interviewing prominent Czech personalities for a number of years. The next day Renée and I walked through Prague for a few hours before flying back to Amsterdam.

Jan Palach memorial, Wenceslas Square, Prague

Blogging from the Czech Repubic. I moderated a discussion with Suzanne Vega and filmmaker Chris Seufert about the process of making a documentary. In this case Chris making a film about Suzanne. A couple of clips from the film, still a work in progress, were shown, and then we talked for about an hour. The discussion was part of the International Film Festival in Olomouc.


Chris Seufert and Suzanne Vega in Olomouc in the Czech Republic

Last night Suzanne performed Tom’s Diner for former Czech president Vaclav Havel via a live video link on the occasion of his birthday.

Suzanne Vega and Vaclav Havel (on screen)

Suzanne and I were guests at the closing party for my exhibition of photographs taken of her in 1980 and 1990. Unlike a typical New York gallery opening where one stands around with a wine glass making small talk, we were greeted by a barrage of cameras. Lots of video cameras this being a documentary film festival. The gallery was in the café of the Olomouc Museum of Art. The director of the museum gave a speech, and then Suzanne and I talked a bit about when and how the photographs were made. We then sat at a table signing autographs on exhibition brochures or copies of the festival newsletter. I never did get my glass of wine.

Standing in front of my photographs of Suzanne Vega


Signing autographs

Entrance to the museum café and gallery

More from Olomouc to come…

There has been a lot of discussion about a photograph by Thomas Hoepker taken after the collapse of the Twin Towers on 9/11. The picture below is from a book called Watching the World Change: The Stories Behind the Images of 9/11 by David Friend. I haven’t seen the book yet, so I will only address the Hoepker picture, which has been widely disseminated. Hoepker, apparently aware that his photograph might generate misunderstandings, waited more than four years before publishing it.

Photo by Thomas Hoepker

Frank Rich wrote in his weekly New York Times column:

Seen from the perspective of 9/11’s fifth anniversary, Mr. Hoepker’s photo is prescient as well as important—a snapshot of history soon to come. What he caught was this: Traumatic as the attack on America was, 9/11 would recede quickly for many. This is a country that likes to move on, and fast. The young people in Mr. Hoepker’s photo aren’t necessarily callous. They’re just American. In the five years since the attacks, the ability of Americans to dust themselves off and keep going explains both what’s gone right and what’s gone wrong on our path to the divided and dispirited state the nation finds itself in today.

Many have taken issue with Rich’s assertion that the photograph illustrates America quickly moving on. Two of the people shown in the photograph have come forward to say that contrary to their casual appearance they were deeply shocked by what was going on. One of them criticized Hoepker for making a picture so open to misinterpretation in advancement of his own career.

The other said:

I am also a professional photographer and did not touch a camera that day. Why? For many reasons including a now-obvious one: This somewhat cynical expression of an assumed reality printed in the New York Times proves a good reason. (Shame on Mr. Rich and Mr. Hoepker—one should never assume.) But most of all to keep both hands free, just in case there was actually something I could do to alter this day or affect a life, to experience every nanosecond in every molecule of my body, rather than place a lens between myself and the moment. (Sounds pretty “callous,” huh?) I also have a strict policy of never taking a photograph of a person without their permission or knowledge of my intent.

As a photographer who usually deals with “real” situations, I am always aware of the “fiction” of the image. This dichotomy of the real and the fictional is what photography is about–what makes it powerful–and what makes it disturbing.

Moreover, the experience of an event does not necessarily unfold visually like Hollywood movies with heightened action and dramatized points of view. There are an infinite number of perspectives in time and space of an event. Many photographers seek to control meaning by creating images that confirm certain cultural habits of seeing and framing the world. I prefer to work against that way of seeing, though I know I can never truly escape it. Viewers of photographs bring those same cultural references to bear, often uncritically.

Photography is by definition a predatory act. One is always stealing, appropriating, and intruding. I have, or so I feel, a careful sense of ethical responsibility, but in the end I know that the images I take are not in themselves “humane” or “compassionate.” They are what they are, take ’em or leave ’em.

With regard to the Hoepker image, it’s interesting to have the photographer and two of the people depicted weigh in, but ultimately, the picture provides a simple narrative: that most of us witnessed the horror of this event from afar, passively–like it or not–in the uniform of the moment–appropriate or not–on a beautiful summer day. For me, that distance, with its aura of disengagement, makes the image all the more poignant and lasting.

BAGnewsNotes
Blog discussion of news images

David Friend
Website for the book

Submarine on the Ij

Been busy working on a grant proposal about photographing megachurches. See posts below. Today, we joined a protest march against the imprisoning of an illegal alien child awaiting expulsion with his mother from the Netherlands. This is but one of hundreds of cases. Children in jail. The Netherlands. Land of tolerance. Home of the World Court.

Shells collected by Brendan, my son.

Yesterday the United States Senate led by the Republicans and a few cowardly Democrats betrayed the fundamental values of my country by passing a bill that nullifies the Geneva Conventions even as it says the opposite, unconstitutionally undermines habeas corpus rights, and gives to the President potentially dictatorial powers.

Meanwhile, here in the Netherlands where I am for the moment, an 8 year old sits in a prison cell with his mother, an illegal alien from China, awaiting deportation. The boy was born in the Netherlands, has been educated in the Netherlands, and has lived nowhere else. He has zero rights to residence in the Netherlands. He and his mother will shortly be thrown to the wolves.

Continuing the post of a few days ago, I traveled out to Queens to photograph the Korean Presbyterian Church, a so-called megachurch designed by the noted architect Greg Lynn. Although this building has significant architectural merit (article here), what interests me most is the new religious landscape, the way in which religious expression manifests itself physically in society. This, I hope, will be the first of many such places that I explore with my camera. The pictures posted here are digital snaps made in addition to 4×5 color film.

The Korean Presbyterian Church in the distance

Traditional American churches are typically cruciform structures, their steeples punctuating the skyline, and are often located in a prominent spot on a major street or town square. The new churches for reasons economic or social are more likely to be found in peripheral locations convenient to their congregations, usually accessible by automobile. That is as true for this Korean immigrant community in New York City as it is for white suburbanites on the fringes of cities around the U.S.

Northern Boulevard

Northern Boulevard

Northern Boulevard

I took the subway to Northern Boulevard, a wide swath of asphalt leading out from the Queensborough Bridge (59th Street Bridge). The church is near the Sunnyside train yards used by the the Long Island Railroad and Amtrak. It’s a hard stretch of streetscape with car dealers, auto body shops, strip malls–as well as a few strip joints–diners, and fast food outlets. The church is located directly adjacent to the rail yard amidst factory buildings and warehouses. An immense new car lot with hundreds of vehicles lies just to the north. Every few minutes a train passes by the church, and the passengers can clearly see the words “is it nothing to you, all you who pass by?” afixed to a metal screen attached to one side of the building. Just out of view on the other side of the rail embankment is Sunnyside Gardens, a historically important planned community, once the home to urban planner and critic Lewis Mumford. (Google Map)

Former entrance to the Knickerbocker Laundry

Greg Lynn’s church building is actually an adaptive reuse of the Knickerbocker Laundry, an art deco factory that stood abandoned for years. The symmetricality of the older building, however, has been disrupted by the new addition, and the former entrance is now covered by the aforementioned steel screen placed off center to the original doors. Despite all that has been done to the original, the strong forms and curves of the deco design remain clearly visible along the street.

North side of church complex

The main entrance to the church is through a gateway and faces a huge parking structure, which dominates views of the building from that side. On the north side of the building, a series of nested polygons contains stairs leading from the different levels of the sanctuary. It’s the most striking design element of the whole complex–industrial, angular, mettalic–not the usual stuff of churches. I could easily imagine a jumbo jet parked at the edge of this structure.

Just outside the church compound

I photographed the building from as many places as I could easily reach. I was there without any special access, and was actually surprised to be able to walk about the compound so freely. I did not seek to go inside, but there are some nice interior views on the Greg Lynn website. I also did a number of shots looking toward the building from some distance away. It’s hard to get a vantage point that explains the setting of the building, but that’s the way it is in this strange somewhat alienating landscape. The only recognizable religious iconography is the abstracted cross formed by white steel beams.

Korean Presbyterian Church, Queens, New York

Looking past the Lower East Side to a new project I’d like to do, I took the subway out to Queens to photograph the Korean Presbyterian Church. For some time, I have been interested in the phenomenon of megachurches and the way in which they are redefining and/or fitting in to the urban landscape–often suburban landscape. I am tentatively calling my project the New Religious Landscape, and while I expect that it will center on megachurches, I am open to other forms of religious architecture or display. The Korean Presbyterian Church is a megachurch, but atypical in that it is in New York City, and that it was designed by an architect very much on the cutting edge, Greg Lynn. More photographs and comments to follow.

I took the train to Boston to visit Rodger Kingston a photographer, collector, and Walker Evans scholar, among other things. We met online recently after I posted my reactions to the Evans show at the UBS gallery in New York. Rodger is a great conversationalist and generous with his time, and I had a most enjoyable stay, however short. While in Boston I met the staff of the Photographic Resource Center and the photography curators at the Museum of Fine Arts. Unfortunately, I couldn’t spend much time in Rodger’s house in Belmont (near Cambridge) because of my rather severe allergy to cats. I actually picked up a face mask at a nearby hardware store so that I could go inside for at least a little while. Fortunately, however, the weather was unusually balmy for late September, and we were able to sit on the back porch, look at photographs, and talk.

The view from Rodger Kingston’s porch

Rodger showed me some of his cibachrome prints featuring pop art imagery not unlike the iconography of Andy Warhol. One picture prominently displaying a Mao poster was particularly vivid. I showed Rodger work prints of my ongoing Lower East Side project. We also exchanged books–my Lost Border and Rodger’s bibliography on Walker Evans. I took the late train back to New York.

Rodger Kingston with his digital camera

Crowd at the New York Botanical Garden

On Sunday I traveled to the Bronx to see Dale Chihuly’s glass sculptures set among the plants of the New York Botanical Garden. While on the train I read in the Times about Hiroshi Sugimoto’s photographs of Richard Serra’s sculpture Joe, which is situated in the new Pulitzer Foundation for the Arts in St. Louis designed by Japanese architect Tandao Ando. Like much of Sugimoto’s recent work, the photographs are minimal black and white images deliberately made out of focus. Originally, the photographs were to be a collaboration with Serra, but he, evidently, was uncomfortable with the idea, and left Sugimoto to his own devices.

Richard Serra’s sculpture Joe as photographed by Hiroshi Sugimoto

Reducing Serra’s tactile reddish steel sculpture into fuzzy monochrome light and shadow does not compute with my reading of Serra’s work. Ando’s building was designed to contain the spiraling form of Serra’s sculpture–a collaboration between the artist and architect–but nowhere in Sugimoto’s pictures is there any evidence of the surrounding architecture. One could argue that Sugimoto uses Serra entirely to create his own separate reality, linked to the original source, but not intended as a document. Well okay, if you think that transforming Serra’s tough, tightly wound masterpiece into a series of ephemeral two dimensional compositions is a worthwhile project.

Chihuly glass sculpture reflected in water

Thinking of Richard Serra massive steel objects it’s hard to transition to Dale Chihuly’s multi-colored blown glass. Chihuly is the ultimate eye candy, easy to like, and easy to dismiss. As one visitor to the Botantical Garden exclaimed in New Yorkese, it’s gawgeous. You can’t really disagree with that. The installation is a spectacular crowd pleaser. But there are moments of more sublime pleasure like the column of blue and green writhing glass tubes set among palm trees, or the silvery glass spikes hanging amidst grey/green cactuses. Here are some visual impressions of the show.

On Saturday I continued my Lower East Side project walking down Eldridge Street to Chinatown. As usual I used a 4×5 view camera, and snapped similar images with the digital camera. Some are quite close to the 4×5 frame, some not. All the pictures below were taken with my Ricoh GR.

Eldridge Street

Chrystie Street

I walked all the way down Eldridge to where it meets Division Street and runs into the massive structure of the Manhattan Bridge. Near the bridge is the newly restored Eldridge Street Synagogue dating back to 1886 when this part of the Lower East Side was largely Jewish. The immediate area is now predominately Chinese, and I am trying to get a photograph of the building that shows the present context. For now, here is a straight architectural view.

Eldridge Street Synagogue

The corner of Eldridge and Division is another spot I’ve been trying to do justice to. There’s a small hill where the synagogue stands, and then the space opens out in front of the Manhattan Bridge. There is a cocophany of architectural styles, signage, crowds, outdoor markets, and queues for catching the many cheap buses to Boston. On Saturday I climbed the walkway over the Manhattan Bridge and took several shots with the digital camera. Unfortunately, there is chainlink fencing along the railing making it impossible to get a view camera lens through an opening. Up the bridge there are other possibilities that incorporate the bridge elements themselves. I plan to return a bit earlier in the day. Here is a view of Eldridge and Division from the bridge.

Eldridge and Division Streets

This is the poster for the exhibit I am doing in the Czech Republic of early portraits of Suzanne Vega. I’ve known Suzanne since the late 1970s when I first arrived in New York. Here is a previous post with some of the images in the show.

Back in New York, an overnight two day shoot of interiors at a golf club in the Hamptons. Then scans, color correcting, and delivery to the client. A busy week. Monday, of course, marked the fifth year since the destruction of the World Trade Center, and I was happy, in a way, to be busy with other things. I did, however, take the time to post a picture of the Twin Towers taken in the 1980s that when enlarged in Photoshop revealed the scratched signature of Phillipe Petit the French street performer who tightrope walked between the towers in 1974. It’s currently in the Outtakes section of my homepage.

My son gave me the this drawing a while ago depicting the Twin Towers and me with my camera. He was too young to have any memory of 9/11, but much to my amazement he seems acutely aware of the importance of the event, and its importance to me personally.

Here are some more digital pictures of the Haarlemerbuurt (neighborhood around the Haarlemerdijk in Amsterdam) taken last week. Scroll down for earlier pictures.

Haarlemmerdijk

Moroccan food store, Haarlmmerdijk

Haarlemmerdijk

Bickerseiland

The Movies, an art house on the Haarlemerdijk

Woody Allen at The Movies on the Haarlemmerdijk

Brendan, my son, Tussen de Bogen

Continuing my walk in the neighborhood around the Haarlemmerdijk in Amsterdam. I photographed my son along the railroad viaduct leading in and out of Central Station. Brendan stands before a night view of the scene behind. It’s a straight shot, not a composite.

On the bus near Central Station

Haarlemmerdijk

Walking the Haarlemmerstraat and Haarlemmerdijk one comes across lots of odds and ends in the store windows. Here Elvis makes yet another appearance. Amsterdam is not known for Art Nouveau architecture, but it can be found in various spots around the center of the city. A bit later the Amsterdam School with its organic forms echoed the older style. These two storefronts survived the 20th century relatively intact.

Courtyard just off the Haarlemmerdijk

Urban renewal in the ’70s and ’80s nearly destroyed a number of picturesque neighborhoods in Amsterdam including the Haarlemmerbuurt (see above) and the nearby Jordaan. Dutch planners and technocrats have rarely exhibited great sensitivity to the existing urban fabric, but fortunately they have moved on to, literally, the greener pastures of the polders outside the city. Amsterdam, like other European cities, is blessed and cursed with its now immutable historic heart.

Today, I walked from Central Station to the Haarlemmerpoort. Once you clear the touristy mess near the station and walk west on the Haarlemmerstraat and Haarlemmerdijk one finds a lively mix of shops, mostly mom and pop operations, and the odds and ends of urban street life. It is, perhaps, Amsterdam’s best street for window shopping, noshing, and capricious purchases. Here are a few pictures. More to follow.

Central Station under construction. A couple of goth kids navigate the strange landscape of modern Amsterdam.

Shops on the Haarlemmerdijk

Op-art in a passage off the Haarlemmerdijk

Pont 13. An old ferry transformed into a floating restaurant.