From the gallery: LABOR DAY
HAPPY LABOR DAY WEEKEND!: Dedicated to the hard work that made and still makes this country great.
Every once in a while you will find this incredible sculpture towering on top of a pick-up truck in Times Square. It replicates the famous photograph of the iron workers taking a lunch break atop the Chrysler Building in 1930. The sculpture is made by a Broadway theatre set designer who will also sell miniature versions of this to the tourists. Thanks to fellow blogger Candy Lopez Galas, I have found the artist’s web site. He is Sergio Furnari. The photo here seemed appropriate for this Labor Day weekend.
From the gallery: I *AM* BIG, IT’S THE *PICTURES* THAT GOT SMALL!
I *AM* BIG. IT’S THE *PICTURES* THAT GOT SMALL! “
There’s nothing tragic about being fifty. Not unless you’re trying to be twenty-five.”(Joe Gillis/Sunset Boulevard)
My eyes are always open as I walk around New York, but I also have my ears open at all times – no iPod! As I turn the corner of 49th Street and Seventh Avenue I overhear bits of a conversation that fascinate me instantly. “I used to strip right ovah there, I made big money. They treated us girls good in those days.”
On the ground, cozied up to a handbag street vendor is a faded aged stripper with jet black hair and jet black outfit to match. Her low halter top is barely staying up from the weight of all the diamond broaches she has pinned to it. Her hand rattles from the diamond studded bracelets she is wearing, her fingers snarled with age. The toes are painted silver to match the stiletto shoes. Her face has seen one too many facelifts and the makeup is heavy. Her voice low and gravely: “Not all the girls kept their figure like me, I still got it . . . you think so honey? I was the lead stripper, right ovah there!” The south African faux handbag salesman is beat by the heat and just listens in amazement of her retelling of the Times Square that once was. She is pointing to the current Seventh Avenue strip club called ‘Lace’, a meager shadow of what it once was in the 1960’s and 70’s.
As she talks to him, I remember – purple hued light coming from out the door, big neon lit marquis overhead. Painted white windows on each side of the entranceway with just a small round clear hole that had a glimpse of the bar. When the doors opened and closed as the gentlemen came and went, you could get a titillating glimpse of the girls in their pasties dancing to the sexy music in a trance on the bar. I thought it was wonderful.
“How much is the Gucci bag?” a tourist asks, he has to get back to work.
BUSTED
New York Post, Page Six, September 1, 2011
“Not guilty!”
BUSTED: This photo (along with a series of others) was published around the world. It is a hot August night, 2011 and body painter Andy Golub was testing the boundaries of the law by body painting his completely nude model Zoe West in Times Square. The law states, that if it is for the sake of “art”, a woman is allowed to be totally nude in public. The police staff don’t seem to know that and enjoy ’the show’ for some time until they finally feel it is time to arrest her. She was later released without charges. My photos made page two of The New York Post and Daily News, Wall Street Journal locally and published internationally. We were then satirized in a cartoon on the notorious New York Post’s ‘Page Six’ the following day. A better compliment could not be asked for!
AMERICA
AMERICA: Standing in Times Square late at night, you witness the whole world coming together, tourists from all over the USA and all corners of the earth. Each side of the Army Recruiting Station at 43rd Street is lit with a huge neon American flag. Sitting there I realized, this is America, all shapes, all sizes, all colors – in silhouette they are all one.
A FOUND MEAL
Hello everyone! I thought I would start with some of my well known photos that has been exhibited in galleries, published and won awards. My first post will be a woman I have fallen in love with since I have photographed her.
A FOUND MEAL
A FOUND MEAL: Late night in Times Square is my favorite time to observe people. I will just wander about and pick people out of a crowd and trail them (ok = stalk) with my camera. I notice this lovely old woman pulling her roller suitcase behind her, she seems to blend into the crowd, except . . . she stops at every garbage can in the square. She is looking for her evening meal. She finds a couple of nearly empty drinks and pours them all into one large McDonalds cup. She finds a half smoked cigarette. Some unused napkins. Half a pretzel. And then – good fortune shines on her. In the garbage can at the corner of 46th and Broadway there is a, still hot, doggie bag from The Olive Garden containing a seemingly uneaten lasagna, with utensils. Having put her meal together, she searches for a table to sit down and spread out her ‘found meal.’ She sits with dignity at the table. Her silver grey hair whisping about her forehead in the light evening breeze. Life is good for the moment. I look at her, and wonder, what brought her ‘here‘? I alone know her story. The surrounding people at the other tables have no clue as to her situation in life. (There is a visual clue in the photo, her thumbnail is pitch black, from digging in the garbage cans.) I take a whole series of photos of her enjoying her meal. I am drawn to her, by her beauty and dignity – and sadness. Finally, I feel it is time for me to move on and as I leave, I notice two Italian tourists at the next table knowingly smiling at me and say “she is beautiful.”
NEW YORK CITY - IN THE WIT OF AN EYE 