What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow Out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, You cannot say, or guess, for you know only A heap of broken images, where the sun beats And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief And the dry stone no sound of water ... Unreal city, under the brown fog of a winter dawn... T.S. Eliot The Wasteland
This quote reminds me so much of Manhattan, the city I have lived in for three years, and lived near all my life. It inspired me to take a camera on my walks in Manhattan, to record some of the beauty that I find in the hard and narrow spaces of the city.
What appeals to me most is the place where buildings and people meet, a few feet from the ground, where the stone comes alive with images, posters, words and markings. The walls become like skin: worn, smoothed, bruised, painted. These are the human spaces beneath the skyline of the city.
Here are some photos that I have taken during my walks, mostly from the lower east side and Soho, two areas where I spend a lot of time and find some of the best images.
16th St near 1st Ave (in Stuyvesant Town), 10/10/95