I've kind of been avoiding the big touristy areas. Not just for my own monetary sake, but because I'd like this stay to be a different kind of experience. I suppose I got all that out of my system the first time I was here four years ago.
I spent the other day in the artistic treasure trove that is Chelsea. Slowly but surely, I'm making my way through all 213 of the galleries there. By sheer blind luck, the other night I walked into a retrospective of my new favourite photographer, Bruce Davidson, who wasn't only present but giving a photo-by-photo reflection of the entire exhibition.
I was particularly enamored with his series Brooklyn Gang (below), shot in 1958, when Bruce, then 25, wormed his way into a tribe of 15 year old knuckle-busters for one year. It was fascinating to hear his dozens of stories, from the chieftain who went on to become a successful dealer, then user, then drug counselor, to the banger turned police detective who contacted Bruce years later when he recognised himself on the cover of one of his books left at a precinct after he was mugged.
In the spring of 1959, I met a group of teenagers in Brooklyn who called themselves "The Jokers". I was twenty-five and they were about sixteen. I could have easily been taken for one of them ... I found myself involved with a group of unpredictable youths who were mostly indifferent to me. In time they allowed me to witness their fear, depression and anger. I soon realized that I, too, was feeling some of their pain. In studying close to them, I uncovered my own feelings of failure, frustration and rage.
- Bruce Davidson
If I had any cash left I would've bought all of his books in a heartbeat, but Manhattan's an evil money-sucking vortex. One thing it has taught me though is the fine art of turnstile-hopping, a skill that I am putting to great use.
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