I was back at the shelter serving dinner today and asked about Charlene. She was not in the dining room so I asked Carmela where she was. Carmela told me that she is now in another shelter where she has her own private room. She did not know exactly where the shelter is in the City. I made a mental note to ask one of the Sisters about this when I go there next week to show them this project.
I spoke to Ruth briefly while she was leaving to go to her room. She was smiling and told me she is doing well. I did not ask her how her volunteering is going at Metro Baptist Church, across the street from the shelter – another mental note.
And Dorca came over to me to say hello. She look good and was as talkative as always. I told her that a friend of mine really liked her self-portrait drawing in the gallery. I told her that my friend told me to tell her to continue drawing. Dorca like the comment and said she will think about it. We made a point to speak to each other in the next few weeks. She wants to write more about herself and her life.
We served around 38 women on this very cold and bitter night. Barbara, a volunteer there on this night said that it might be the weather which kept more of the women from coming out for dinner.
The shelter served chicken breast, mashed potatoes, vegetables and pudding for dessert.
Jose Aguilar, originally from Pueblo, Mexico, has been living in El Barrio for almost 30 years, and enjoys being with his family, going to the park and listening to music when he’s not working.
These girls were selling homemade burritos with chicken, rice, beans and jalapenos.
These pairs of shoes, thrown above a lamppost, memorialize people in the neighborhood who have passed away according to residents of the area.
The main street of El Barrio on 116th
A barber shop that prides its local community.
This is one of many Mexican bodegas that sell a variety of imported foods from Mexico.
This vendor sells jello, rice milk, and pork grinds
Roasted Corn and Rice Milk
Street Style Burritos seved fresh off the grill
A store that sold a variety of leather boots that ranged from alligator to ostrich. The cheapest pair were $400.00
If you don’t feel like buying boots, you can always have a meal and still look at them.
This bodega sold a variety of meats. Most consisted of different cuts of pork.
Mexican and Puerto Rican flags hanging side by side between lampposts.
Angelo sells fresh fruit and and assortment of jello. He was not happy about his picure being taken
Fresh and fried mexican food that included corn, pork and rice as its main ingredients
Can I Help You?
Sitting in Jose Aguilar’s car with his son almost two weeks ago, I discovered a fear, wariness and humility embedded within the people of his country who, often struggle to make a living here in the city.
It was early in the evening, around six, and already dark outside. I expected to be sitting in his home along with his son and friend of mine, Jose, for the interview. It had taken two weeks of canceled appointments to meet with Mr. Aguilar. I had looked forward to the opportunity of speaking with both he and his family.
May love and grace shine upon our dwelling place” The Dwelling Place of NY opened its doors in 1977, it houses and feeds women over 30.
The shelter relies 100% on personal donations. One such donation came in the form of shampoos, conditioners and bathing gels from a man who buys them at the 2 for 1 stores and gives them to the shelter.
The Dwelling Place has 15 beds in the shelter. There is often more beds needed on any given night, the Sisters usually tell those women to go the the Open Door, a drop in shelter not too far from The Dwelling Place.
“Jane” having lunch. She has been homeless off and on for ten years and only recently made her way back to The Dwelling Place.
At one time The Dwelling Place fed more than 150 women on a given night.
“Dorca” has been at The Dwelling Place since April when she left her live-in partner after arguing over her disability checks.
At the Wednesday night dinners for homeless women they are often given toiletries such as toothbrushes, toothpaste and moisturizers.
Sister Pat (background) a volunteer at the Wednesday night dinners, Barbara (partially hidden) a staff member and Carmela (foreground) also a staff member preparing the Wednesday nights meals when the shelter opens up for dinner to all who want a hot meal and some fellowship.
Thanksgiving Dinner at the shelter.
The women often become each others support system and often go out in the city to sight see and shop.
On Wednesday nights some women who are homeless and need a hot meal choose not to eat at the shelter. In these situations, the staff prepares “take out” meals for them and gives hands them out at the door.
“Charlene” (on the left) and “Dorca” are roommates at the shelter. Both are in day treatment programs in order to keep them busy throughout the day.
“Sandra” was a former resident at the shelter, she is now part of the staff. She cooks, cleans and takes care of the women.
“Ruth” She holds a BA in History from Bob Jones University and has been homeless for two months since arriving to New York from Atlanta with only bus fare.
There are strict rules at the shelter. The women have to be up by 9 AM, breakfast ends at 10 AM and they are expected to go out at this time and return for dinner at 5:30 PM. Many go shopping with their disability checks, go to day treatment programs or sight see in the city.
Dorca’s drew this self-portrait at her treatment program. She says the lines represent all she has been through.
I have always been interested in identity and sense of place. Who do people think they are? What is their story? Where does one belong? These are all questions I ask myself as an aspiring journalist. I asked myself these same questions for this project – “Capturing Communities in Words and Images.” But there were other questions invariably on my mind: What shapes a community? What keeps a community together? Who belongs? Why do communities form? In trying to illuminate a community these questions need to be asked and answered.
I chose a non-traditional, often misunderstood and marginalized community to document – homeless women in a shelter. In documenting these women I want to give an anonymous population dignity, humanity – a face for others to care. There is a stereotype that exists: the bag lady. She is often dressed in tatters, with multiple plastic bags, picking through garbage collecting empty cans and is often pushing a supermarket cart. We have seen her. We have looked at her. We have ignored her. Yet in my search for this archetype I did not find her. Instead I found: “Dorca,” “Charlene,” “Ruth,” “Sandra” and “Jane” a community of women who shared with me their stories of loss – in not just a place to call home but in identity. To some they are just statistics however, they are real people and they let me into their community.
I discovered women who have often a mental illness but are released from state hospitals anyway without proper follow-up care or medication; many women that because of bad decisions and situations are forced into the streets and married women with jobs and husbands that divorce and then are left in precarious economic situations.
The statistics in the United States on the homeless are sobering, according to the Los Angeles Homeless Coalition 3.5 million people (1.35 million of which are children) will experience homelessness in a given year; 43% of the homeless population are women; 40% of these women are unaccompanied; 1 in every 5 homeless persons has a severe or persistent mental illness and 25% of the homeless nationwide are employed.
Why this community? This is a question I often asked myself, in my quest for an answer I turned to the community itself. Continue reading “A Place to call Home”
Every morning for nintey minutes, the mens’ class practice Ballet techniques under different instructors. The same perspiring funk lingers in the studio as it does everywhere else in the school. The floor is quite bubbly from time and falls of ballet.
Eric has been in the ballet for twelve years. It shows in his poise and aura. It is cliche to say ballet dancers are like swans. Ballet dancers are fluid performers. Eric is an inspiring professional ballet dancer. He was chosen to be the Prince in Cast A of the Nutcracker performance.
A freelance instructor, Alexandre is a often at the Joffrey Ballet School. He is a walking accomplishment of a ballet career, his elocution and instruction encourages the students to be prepared for the “real world.”
The most energetic, he gives extra umph to his spinning and jumps. Here he is performing a simple ballet technique, sickling ( pointing) your foot away, and returning your foot sidways against the other.
“A product of the Bejing Academy of Fine Arts,” he says without hesitation. “My mom made me dance and do ballet as a child because nothing else interested her, I had no say.” Then he smiles and says ” Now I love the ballet, I hated it as a child, but famous actors and dancers come from Beijing. Someday, I will too.”
It was a strenous effort to photograph the dancers, their legs would occupy several square feet of space around them, the several square feet of space I needed to photograph them more efficiently. I was too close to Eric, and his foot, which I prefer to be the whole top right corner, is a way of saying ” you’re not welcome yet, but keep knocking.”
Precision with hips idle and legs moving independent from the body, ballet is succinct with physical prose.
Alan and Eric have their time in the air. With regular instructor Cammy, students were told to propel in the air and perform double heel clicks. Some with ease, others fell and stumbled and laughed it off.
After photographing this class, I tried my own windmill.
There were times when students would practice unsatisfied techniques during the five minute intermission. Most of them stretched out their limbs, Stephen decided to spin.
Extending one leg then stopping to spin three times seems as rigorous as it looks.
Two weeks from the Nutcracker Performance, the womens’ class joined the mens’ class in morning exercises. Women performed their precision with minimal effort while the men seemed to strain on several exercises.
Eric, a cavalier in both plays in Casts A and B, whil Stephen ( red overcoat) plays the prince in Cast A and the second cavalier in Cast B. Cory, (far left), is one of the menacing cats in Cast A, then the prince in Cast B.
Eric, the cavalier, with sugar plum fairy, Caroline.
Stephen , as the Prince, kisses Clara,the heroine and owner of the Nutcracker doll, with Alexandre, ( Clara’s godfather, a magician)
George, the artist director of the Joffrey Ballet School ( Center), sits with Stephen discussing subtleties and performance.
Abraheme Hassan
Studio 1
Tchaikovsky, Victorian, leotards, bulges, glutes, pink slippers, poise, and power. My initial thoughts of the ballet could be anonymous with anyone else – superficial. My time at the Joffrey Ballet School is insufficient; I’ve only scratched the surface. However, my preconditions have advanced and matured dramatically.
I grew up frolicking to Michael Jackson and MTV tunes, sparred with my older brothers in martial arts and wrestling bouts, and played every sport I could get my hands on. The performing arts (if you consider wrestling or martial arts – performing arts) were and are a significant part of my life. Ballet was the void and stagnant part of my curiosity. Ask any boy about the ballet, ‘ballet is for girls and sissies!” said my seven year-old cousin. “Sissies” in my neck of the woods were not respected nor harmed. Men who dance professionally other than hip-hop were like steel bubbles, floating in grace but with a macho exterior.
My curiosity of the ballet was reignited once again by the film “Billy Elliot,” a boy in a Northern England coal-mining town finds his true calling in ballet, a stark contrast to the his father and brother’s lifestyle. This project is my first glimpse of the ballet. Specifically, male ballet dancers, who testosteronal grace repulses many but intrigues and captivates me. Syncopated in classical composure is a delight you can enjoy and experience other than the clashing in sports. Continue reading “Studio 1- Ballet”
Yaphet Murphy – Capturing Communities in Words and Images
New York City Goths
It’s true. They live. I’ve seen them. They exist. Black clad gals and gents with whiteface makeup with an androgynous bent. They call themselves Goths. And if you’re really careful, they might whisper at you.
My entire effort in this project has been an attempt to get closer, close enough for someone to whisper at me, to tell me the things about the Goth community that are not normally transmitted to outsiders. I started at the periphery of this community. I didn’t know where to find a Goth. To me, Goths were scarce. If I was lucky I might see one in passing. But I was certain that they congregate somewhere. I turned to the internet to begin a search. Continue reading “New York City Goths – Uncovered”
It is getting dark and very soon it will be safe to step outdoors
Some will never know my little secret
We are not that different from you, we also like Mcdonalds
The three, who envy the two who know how
Do you have the pass to get behind the velvet rope?
Thank you for coming, it is OUR special night
The OTHER Marilyn Monroe
A modern narcissist
Every moment captured
I wish I were the the ultimate Diva
Heterosexual by night, homosexual by day
I majored in accounting!
WE will Survive!
The untouchable Divas of the Ultimate VIP
We also fall under this constitution
I will make her laugh
Ladies, Gentlemen and Others, thank you for coming
Timeless beauty
The sun will soon rise, I can’t stay out much longer…
Not another doll
‘Breakfast’ by David Lachapelle
I disagree with Mother Nature
“It is going to be an extraordinary evening,” I was told approaching one of New York’s exclusive night clubs, “she will be here tonight,” my guide continued.Dressed to impress, party patrons stood in high heel stilettos crowding the sidewalks as far as I could see.I couldn’t help but wonder whether I was going to be allowed in. I was not sure whether I could brush off the rejection in the midst of all this frenzy. “What kind of a place is this,” I asked, as I composed myself approaching ever closer to the epicenter that marked the entrance.“We know the bouncer, her name is Monica,” my friends giggled, as we trotted closer to the velvet rope. Well, Monica as I learned later, is actually Michael during the day.I assumed a peripheral role.I stood behind my guide and hoped that I would be able to cross the ephemeral line that separated the in crowd from those who could only fantasize what was going to happen tonight, in a few hours, just underneath their feet.Like an auctioneer, my guide waved a few hand gestures and the rope parted as others watched in envy.Surely, the line was about one city block long.An exchange had occurred in midst of all the hand shakes as my guide talked his way past the velvet rope.A small price to pay for what was going to be an extraordinary night at this club.It is here that I was going to find Amanda Lapore.
Unable to decipher the song, my feet felt a trembling sensation with every beet of the music.It was as if the sound was confined, like a prisoner, and was impatiently trying to find an escape.Walking down the stairs, through one endless hallway after another, I felt like I was a part of a game, finding my way to the center of a dark labyrinth.At the last turn, before opening the doors to the heart of it all, a guy in black marked my wrist.Now I have been branded- no longer an outsider of the community.With the opening of the double doors, the music once held captive, now lashed out quickly immersing the hallways with a forceful deep base echoing off of solid black walls, teasing those still walking through the labyrinth.I entered and it was immediately evident why so many would consider the wait in the cold worth their while.In fact, tonight was going to be different, extravagant, and glistening.Tonight is her birthday celebration and everyone gathered to make sure it was just that and nothing less for the ultimate Diva, the odalisque of the gay world, Amanda Lepore.
I have entered the underground life of the community where rules usually do not apply.Dodging my way through the wall-to-wall crowd, I inched my way closer to the table with exquisite champagne, exclusive crowd, and VIP written all over it.The table where Amanda Lepore was celebrating her ‘twenty-first again’ birthday.Before I was able to find the star of the night, I couldn’t help but notice the other tables.I have walked into a room full of Dionysian characters.Taking a drag and hiding the flame of the cigarettes, partygoers bathed under a cloud of smoke.“One at a time please,” I heard in the background as bathroom attendants begged the patrons entering the stalls. Exiting, some were all refreshed, while others exited all disheveled.It is as if the rules of society did not apply here.I couldn’t stop but think that some, would consider this hell, others would relinquish their every day life to escape to this underground paradise.In this world, getting tired on the dance floor doesn’t mean that the night is over, it just simply implies that it’s time for another refreshment break in the bathroom stalls.
Some may mistake this event for a costume party, but to those within the community it is a lot more than that.It is the ability to leave behind their every day life at work or school and transform themselves to be who they want to be perceived as.An average man by day, a queen at night, is the escape they are seeking.Logan, a student at a city college considers his gender to be female, while his sex male.Even though he is hesitant about a complete transformation to another sex, for now he is satisfied with just transforming his gender at night.“It is as if a wild animal in me is set free!” he remarked, as vibrated to the music.Most believe that transgenders were born with the wrong sex and they feel as if they are in the body they don’t belong in.“Every time I look in the mirror, I see just a girl,” he answered when asked about his transformation at night.It is a challenge, he described, to be accepted in the society as a transgender.However, the obstacles he has to face every day made him mature at a much faster rate than an ordinary student his age.There exists a big misconception about transgenders. Stereotypes associate their community as a life style based on drugs and diseases.Many successful businessmen, company executives who graduated top of their class from Ivy League colleges also comprise a big part of this community, as I quickly learned.Logan’s best friend, who also transforms at night, was given a full tuition at Princeton, because of his academic brilliance.He does not consider himself smart, but because he was frowned upon by the stereotypes surrounding him, he compelled himself to strenuous work that in the end resulted in his success. Logan and his best friend are one of the many examples of a false stereotype clouding the transgender community today.For some like Logan, it is a transformation from day to night to participate in the festivities of this party.For others it is an every day life and the means of making a living.Lady Gadiva, as she calls herself, transforms into a female and stays that way for days on end.She works as a bartender and an entertainer and described the strenuous effort and the many hours spent to transform.Unlike Logan, Lady Gadiva spends majority of the workweek as a female.Transgenders, such as Logan, look up to Amanda Lepore as more than just a transgender.She serves as an Icon for the transgender community, as someone who represents the ultimate success story because of her fame and public exposure.
My mission would not be complete until I meet Amanda Lepore herself.As I pushed myself through the crowd, there she was, stepping out of her VIP section and greeting her many acquaintances.As she thanked them for coming, I jumped at the opportunity to speak with Amanda.She is nothing like no other, neither a male or nor a female, but perfectly androgynous, the envy of Ganymede in the Renaissance.She appears completely content.Like Marilyn Monroe, America’s most famous sex symbol of the early twenties, Amanda Lepore will one day commemorate the ultimate transgender.
Celebrating amongst her friends was Amanda Lepore’s photogropher, Jermey Kost.He has known the birthday girl for decades and has had the opportunity to photograph her incessant transformations over the years.As he explained, she undergoes plastic surgeries almost on monthly bases.For the most part, he added, she has reached her ultimate look, and now she is only maintaining beauty with minor changes.Her appearance is ever changing and her body a work of art in progress.All of which have contributed to her timeless image.It was time to bring the cake.Like Narcissus who kneeled daily beside a lake to contemplate his own beauty, she stares at the image of herself rendered in frosting on a birthday cake, while others wondered if there is even a similarity to the Amanda today.
As this was not my first attempt to immerse myself into the transgender community, one thing became very clear over time.For the most part, majority of the events that I have attended consisted predominantly of transgenders and gay men with an absence of the heterosexual community.It is very rare that you find a straight couple in a trangender club.This event, however, was very different.The crowd was mixed, consisting of both gay and straight men, heterogeneous married couples, journalists and photographers.They were all here to see Amanda Lepore the celebrity figure, the Diva, the transgender that has been behind the lens of world renowned photographers, such as David Lachapelle.After all, to achieve her appearance she has gone through a numerous surgeries over a spam of decades, some excruciating and others that defy mother nature.
Because of all the stereotypes, most of which I discovered as being false, the transgender community is not accepted and probably will not be accepted in its entirety throughout many cultures.New York City is unique in the sense that the transgender community has incorporated well into the everyday life of a New Yorker who is more accepting of this community.It is perhaps in diverse and large metropolitan cities where their hope lies.In some countries, the very act of being a homosexual is frowned upon and in certain parts of the world it is illegal and even punishable by death.New York City with its tolerance has accepted different life choices.The people of New York City, whether they are homosexual or heterosexual, professional or nonprofessional, young or elderly, have made Amanda Lepore into a celebrity figure despite her difference.Indeed, Amanda Lepore celebrated her ‘21st again’ birthday here in New York among fans and friends, but more importantly she celebrated the victory of the transgender community.
A hollow building stands against the brooding sky, a relic from the past.
A pier from the past, no longer fit to stand on.
Plans for the construction of waterfront condominiums are in the works.
Carmen Torres, 67, has lived in Red Hook since 1958. She and her husband have owned 5 buildings and a corner store on the same block. They have since sold all but one.
Building Where Jovan, Carmen’s grandson, was born. The Torres’ bought the building from the city for $22,000 in 1987. It was sold in 2006.
Carmen stands by one of her former buildings. Now the site of an art gallery, this was where the Torres’ deli once stood. They sold the building to the gallery owner in 2003.
The store was located on the corner of Wolcott & Richards streets. Carmen recalls when all but one house was burnt to the ground on Wolcott during the rampant drug use of the 1980’s.
Carmen’s son and grandson, both born and raised in Red Hook.
Advendizo (Benny) Torres, Carmen’s son, was born in 1963 in the Red Hook Houses. He remembers his community’s reaction to the assassination of Dr. King during his young life, and was an involved community organizer in his adulthood.
Among the shared victories, the denizens of Red Hook are also bound by shared tragedies that pull on the collective heart strings of a community. Tree planted by Patrick Daley, slain principle of P.S. 15
Sunset Walk
A view of the sunset from the Red Hook pier.
A floating reminder of Red Hook’s past.
The Red Hook Houses: Carmen and Tonio’s first home, Benny’s birthplace, and the scene of the 1992 shooting of Principal Daly.
The Towers
Richie Soto was in the third grade at P.S. 15 in 1992. He was born and raised in the Red Hook Houses.
“When I was 14, my grandmother died in my arms.” Richie’s tattoo honors both his heritage and his grandmother’s memory.
Richie’s first tattoo, done at the age of 14, covered over with another tattoo.
The view of the Red Hook Houses from above.
Glen Eaddy, 38, and his ferret “Fatboy.” Glen is a musician and artist who has lived in Red Hook since the age of 2.
Glen started playing the keyboard and violin at the age of 11, and recalls staying out of trouble and keeping to himself as a child.
The Abandoned Warehouse
Ship in the Night
Red Hook Brooklyn, named for the red clay it was built upon and the Dutch word Hoek, meaning “point” or “corner,” juts out upon the East River. As I sit on the pier in late summer, a familiar chill cuts through the warmth of the season, characteristic of the air above bodies of water. It is evening time, and looking out upon the water and landscape, I feel as though I have discovered a secret. Lady Liberty, glowing green, appears as a sentinel, granting me permission to stay for awhile. This area, the only part of New York City that, on land, has a full frontal view of the Statue, is locally known as The Back.
I was brought here by a friend, who walked me down a long and lonely block, which seemed to be deserted and abandoned. Shuttered warehouses loomed ominously, and dogs barked from somewhere within the darkness. My friend, Jovan Torres, is a local who after a brief stint living with his father in long island, had recently returned to his hometown, and said he wanted to show me this place. I couldn’t imagine what kind of surprise lay beyond the rusted grey metal of the warehouse doors.
As we walk, the darkness gives way, and the water appears. It’s beautiful from a distance, and I am now eager to proceed. He greets a group of high-school aged kids, their voices and laughter echoing after us as we continue on to the edge. I see the statue of liberty and can’t believe how close she seems. A group of men approach with fishing rods, greeting each other as though this has been a nightly summer ritual. One man pulls out a radio, and my friend and I take a seat. He tells me stories about jumping into the river as kids, and hopping from post to post.
As early as the 19th century, Red Hook’s port made it a booming industrial center, loaning itself to the shipping and containerization industries. The Red Hook Houses, one of the largest housing projects in the city, were initially built for the Irish and Italian dockworkers and their families to live in. By the 1950’s, these initial residents began to fade and the town became one of the first Puerto Rican neighborhoods in the city.
Rehearsing Arguments That Will be Used Against Cornell
Searching For Information Necessary for Cross Examination
Everyone Joins the Search
Final Countdown Before the Decision: Pressures Mount
To The Victor Go The Spoils
Evidence That Could Have Won The Round Found All Too Late
So Much Information But So Little Time In Which To Reveal It All
The Search For Evidenciary Support: Last Minute Rebuttal
Gather Round, Gather Round: Debaters Now Must Listen
Debaters Listen to Information Regarding Previous Day’s Events
Collateral Damage: Lonely Tub Among A Heap of Evidence
Friendly Treaty After A Rigorous War
I never thought I would join debate, much less policy debate. Policy debate is a lot like condensed milk; too much and I get sick. A lot of the time the actual policy in question is not discussed much. Instead whether the other team is being topical is argued vehemently throughout the debate. I find I went against all my principles when I had to win the debate based on voter fairness and not the subject matter. Upon entering the building I could hear a shuffling of papers. Everyone’s brow was scrunched and their hands clenched tightly to far too many papers for one person to carry. I could hear faint whisperings of people repeating their arguments at 350 words a minute. Down the hall everyone stood huddled in groups, reading their “scripts” with such harmony and so in tune with each other it sounded like a canopy of hummingbirds. It was odd to find music even in muffled speed-reading. Suddenly the hall quieted as the room arrangements were being taped to the wall. With a loud, thick slab the paper stuck to the wall and then just as swiftly as it was quiet, a rush emanated through the hall for the room schedules. Fingers ran up and down the sheets, each eye scanning for their own names. It wasn’t so easy to spot the room because the names were arranged by taking the first initial of both peoples’ names and then the college the team they were from. Aside from giving the room numbers the sheets also reveal the position a team will take during the round. My partner ran to find out our room, room 231 of the main building, affirmative. We didn’t have far to go but we still couldn’t take our sweet time getting there.
5 Pointz in Long Island City attracts people from all over the world
There aren’t many rules for 5 Pointz, but they’re still important
Meres has is tag all over 5 Pointz (A perk the comes with running the place)
Meres conversing with photographer about where he can shoot
Nemo, from France, is busy filling in his tag that would take him and his friend Nemo 2 & 1/2 hours to finish
Wes & Nemo find time to mess around before the work of art is completed
The final product of almost 3 hours of work. Who knows how long it will stay up.
El Pavo, one of my favorite pieces that I’ve seen in 5 Pointz just because it’s so different from the other ones.
Another one of my favorites. Makes me wonder how long it took to create because of the colors and the many details
Rabbit, the eccentric airbrusher, poses without being asked, before I even noticed.
Rabbit’s work has been done for rappers and for himself and his friend
Rabbit and friend enjoying the view of a photo-shoot to promote his business
There are many ways to keep warm this winter. Dancing to Beyonce seems to be the most effective
The Drop Krank Crew from Astoria pose for photographer Jeff Pliskin
Crew members, Dredel poses in front of the black red ranger Ed.
As the photo-shoot comes to an end, the guys give each other fist bumps and split
Revolt(right), an old guy with a lot of attitude poses with two other artists that were popular in the 80s, and still are
Lavas 1&2 with photojournalist Martha Cooper.
Lava, even after all these years, still knows how to write his name
Mare139 signs Martha Cooper’s jacket
The Feit Seminar’s very own tag
What makes a community what it is? Is it the people? Maybe it’s what the people have in common. If that’s the case then what do you do when the people don’t have much in common? You call it 5 Pointz: The Institute of Higher Burnin’. Having a name that represents the five boroughs of New York City, 5 Pointz, located in Long Island City, invites graffiti artists from all over to share their work with the world. It is important to note that this is one of the very few places in New York where graffiti is legal. However, I still find it ironic that a place where anywhere else a person can be arrested for writing graffiti, can be found just blocks away from a Supreme Court house. Don’t get too excited though, just because graffiti is legal there does not mean that you can just come and do want you want. You need permission from Meres, aka Jonathan Cohen, who has been the one in charge since 2002. In order to get permission he needs to view a sample of your work, either in person or through e-mail.
6. Sister Riesa in one of her beautiful african dress
7. Sis. Andrea leads the pastor out of the church after service is over
8. “Ask and it shall be given.”
9. “Building women of courage”
10. Praying in the pew
11. Praying for him
12. “Praying for the sick”
13. “Prayinf for the weary”
14. Sis. Dixon searching for the right scripture.
15. Studing the word
16. Pastor Dixon explaining scripture read.
17. Youth Chorale practicing.
18. Ese saying the closing prayer of practice.
19. Rukey
20. Praying the opening prayer for young adult meeting
There are no lush gardens, no high brick walls towering into the heavens, no magnificent stained glass windows depicting the crucifixion. There is just a white building with a brick facade that was bought in 1998. The building is home to Eastchester Church of God located on Eastchester road in the Bronx. It was started in 1990 by the current Pastor Devon Dixon and his wife Heather Dixon and a few other members of the church. It consists of 267 members, with visitors of about 300. Many of the members come from the Caribbean with many coming from the island of Jamaica. There are Americans and African members as well. The members are mostly women, “That is the problem with most black churches, they have more women than men,” commented Pastor Dixon.
Diligent scholar: Ya’akov, 12, pauses on his way to Yeshiva. Boy’s yeshivas begin with morning prayers at 7 a.m.
Awash in a sea of sameness: Wedding revelers view the Chupah ceremony. The wedding ceremony takes place beneath an unenclosed canopy, open on all sides and is a demonstration of the couple’s commitment to establish a home which will always be open to guests. Men and women are separated during the ceremony, as it is a moment of intense spirituality and prayer.
Invisibility Cloaks: men’s prayer shawls, put away after morning services. Jewish men enwrap in the garment during prayer in order to feel a sense of solitude when praying.
Rite of Passage: Mendy, 13, formally enters manhood, as he dons phylacteries for the first time. Phylacteries, or tefillin, are the cube-shaped black leather boxes containing scriptural passages that are attached by straps to the head and arm and worn by men during the morning prayers. The tefillin are symbolic: They connect head, heart, and hand with these- all to work as one with one intent- to serve G-d.
At One With G-d: Malka and her husband perform the tashlich ritual by the Brooklyn bay. Tashlich, is an ancient Jewish prayer, recited near a body of water. Said on the ten days between Rosh Hashana, the Jewish new year, and Yom Kippur, the day of Judgment, tashlich is a highly emotional, symbolic prayer wherein an individual privately confesses and asks G-d that his sins be forgotten, as though cast into the sea.
Yoili, 22, stops to pray Shacharit, the morning service, before the game. He says “Everywhere I go, I go with G-d.”
A people of the Book: Hareidi men browse through ancient Hebrew texts in a Judaica shop early Friday morning.
Father and son review the weekly Torah portion. The Torah , or ancient Hebrew Holy Book of Laws, consists of the Five Books of Moses, Prophets, and Holy Writings. Children are taught proper conduct through weekly Torah lessons and stories.
Bus driver prepares to pick up boys from Hareidi Yeshiva: Avir Ya’kov. School lets out at noon on Fridays. Haredi Judaism is the most theologically traditional form of Judaism. The word Haredi derives from the Hebrew word for fear and can be translated as “one who trembles in awe of God.”
Rebbe Hoffner, parks his bike, as he rushes to teach his early morning Torah class. Boys and girls attend separate schools in the Hassidic community.
Letting His Guard Down:Wedding celebrant exhausted after a night of dancing.
The first dance: The bride and groom touch for the first time. Physical touch between man and woman is prohibited until after marriage. A couple’s first dance is considered to be a special moment, where not only do the their hands touch, but their souls touch as well.
Newlyweds Dovid, 21 and Dina, 19, share a private moment. Hassidic Jews marry young. Young singles are introduced to each other through “shidduch” dating; a process in which each family must first approve of the other before allowing their children to meet and see if they are compatible marriage partners.
Sarah Klein takes a rest from preparing the house for Sabbath. She is rarely seen without a child on her lap.
Kiddush Cup: Aryeh Klein commences the Friday night meal with Kiddush: a blessing over the wine. The purpose of the kiddush is to remind Jews of the sanctity of the Sabbath day.
Sabbath preparations underway at the home of the Kleins family late Friday afternoon. Shevy Klein, 11, helps her mother set the table. They are expecting three guests.
Band of Brothers: Aryeh and Eli, both 13, spend their downtime learning to play a new Yiddish song on the family keyboard. Yiddish is the children’s first language. It is a language they speak both at home and in school. They only speak English when communicating with outsiders.
Shalom Aleichem:Two Hassidic men exchange greetings after morning prayers. Jewish men pray three times daily. It is a practice that is both collective and private. Tefilah, the Hebrew word for prayer means attachment. Jews believe that when they pray, they create a bond between themselves and their Creator, that while they pray, there are only two things in the universe, themselves and G-d.
Sunday Brunch: Hassidic women enjoy a leisurely afternoon while their children are in school.
Who are you?: Gittel, 9, goes to the corner store to get milk for her mother, who is at home with twin infants.
Not So Black And White: An Inside Look at the Hassidic Community
A chill hovers in the morning air. The bright brass buckle on his leather shoe shines dully in the diffuse sunlight. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. His movements echo on the pavement. I catch his gaze in the distance. His eyes are intense. Smokey gray, their look scorches. A black velvet cap sits perched atop his head, crowning his shining curled ringlets. He holds a small velvet pouch embroidered with elaborate beading and gold thread. It is his prayer bag. He clutches it to his side. He looks at me, then looks away.His steps grow faster, more intense. He is in a rush. Please stop, I beg. I can’t, he replies. Just your name, I persist. At least that. Ya’akov, my name is Ya’akov. How old are you Ya’akov? I’ll be Bar Mitzvahed next year, heresponds, and walks away, leaving only a rush of air behind him.
Yes he’s different. It’s as though time has frozen in 19th Century Europe. Speaking a foreign tongue and donning strange, archaic attire, the Hassid stands inert against the quickly changing landscape of time. Exuding distance and aloofness, the Hassid turns his back to the world, closes his eyes and seals his lips in silence. To an outsider, the Hassidic community seems like an impenetrable fortress- one impossible to infiltrate, and even more impossible to understand. But beyond the closed doors and beyond the locked lips there lies a story. A story worth telling.
Theirs is a culture of tradition. Formed in an era of extreme Anti-Semitism and brutality, the Hassidic movement sought to return hope to the Jewish people. Its teachings emphasize sincere devotion to G-d and closeness to one another. When the outside forces threatened to destroy them, they insulated themselves with spirituality and love.
ANthony Ramirez, AKA Lacy – Bartender Extraordinair.
Aili Venho, AKA Mary, AKA Angel – feigns innocence while using everyone to get ahead
Alexander Casasnvas, AKA “what was to become Memphis” as he put it
AC: Look how sexy you look in this pic! I love it! CV: I look fat
Natalia Peguero, AKA Queen still hopes dreams of a better world outside can come true
That’s such a Nathaly face!
Passing on the wisdom from actor to the character
Julio Matos, director, and Rommel Tolentino, actor
Nathaly Lopez, AKA ChiChi, hooker – somewhat larger than life.
NL: Probably talking s***
Greer Samuels, AKA Jojo, a hustler: You gotta use what you got to get what you want
I’m so hungry for a taste of you
Roman Urbanski, AKA Fleetwood: I look like a dead-beat husband in the pic… oh wait I am
Chris: “I was wondering if anyone noticed what i was doing” Norma: “awesome”
It says here i been laid by over fifteen thousand men
I’m sick of waitin’ while some bastard looks me over, standing there deciding, yes or no
It’s not the Brady Bunch back home
He’s no good, but I’m no good without him
It’s my way or the highway!
Someday ill be going back to Puerto Rico then my life is going to be grand; All i’m gonna do all day is stare out at the ocean and my back will hardly ever leave the sand.
Remember all the times when times were bad you were the only friend i ever really had
Eighteen chairs are standing on the stage in two rows in a semi-circle. There is a yellow post-it with a name on each chair. Most of the cast, director, choreographer, stage manager, assistant stage manager, and the pianist are inside. Someone brought snacks and refreshments. Actors are late. Queen is late.
Giggles, voices, whispers, humming fill the theater/classroom. AC, NL and a few others form a small circle on the side. They hum, resonate, and gradually raise and lower their hands to guide their voices. Continue reading “The lives in “The Life””
After being allowed in by Frankie, the bouncer, fans can pay $20 for unlimited drinks and chicken wings, valid until an hour after the game’s end. In a way, this is their ticket in.
Beer cups with the Buffalo Bills logo is just one of the many things that reflect the spirit of the fans. We got this for [the fans], they love them, said Pete.
Barry Waldrop and Ben Irvin, center and right, have been Buffalo Bills fans for years and just recently introduced Earnest Wallace, left, to the team. He is now a self-proclaimed converted fan.
With the drink special, these cups are a constant sight throughout the game. Accodring to Pete, some people come in just to get cups as souvenirs of McFadden’s.
Being part of this Bills Backers community entails many discussions, heated and calm, as well as lots of explaining and debating on the team’s strategies and plays. The eyes, however, remain riveted to the screen at all times.
When a game approaches its last minutes and the Bills are not in the lead, beers quickly change to group shots, with some people quickly gulping down two. Then, things grow quiet rather quickly.
As the Bills find themselves in tricky or unfavorable situations, the fans feel the pressure and the tension in the bar is palpable. The voices are kept to a minimum, and all stare at the television screens without a word. As soon as the play is over, though, voices erupt once again, whether happy cheers or angry shouts.
All fans become absorbed in the game, often cheering on, yelling at or giving the finger to the multiple large television screens around the bar.
The mirror behind the bar was lined with a variety of liquors, although those remain untouched while the Bills fans celebrate their team with draft beers.
Team jerseys are a common sight in the bar, as are upset gestures directed at the television. The gestures and emotions that cause them seemed to intensify as the game progressed, and things got especially tense in the second half of the fourth quarter.
Towards the end of a game, when Buffalo is lagging behind, any small victory makes the fans celebrate and renews their hope for a miracle.
An interception, a fumble or a pass can all cause an uproar amongst the fans who line the bar, especially when those occur in the Bills’ favor.
While upset gestures are usually directed at the television, celebratory cheers are shared with friends and other fans who happen to be standing nearby. High-fives and hugs are given to fellow Bills fans, who otherwise would be complete strangers.
Jill Kerschensteiner, a devout fan who comes to McFadden’s every week, jumps up and down when the Bills score. On other occasions, she might dance around or throw stacks of white napkins in the air.
The seats situated in the middle of the bar are where the loudest fans congregate to attentively watch the Bills’ every move, and yell at the bartender when they are unhappy.
Fists shooting up in the air and smiling faces are all one needs to see to understand the Bills just made a good play. The excitement is combined with the hope that this game could end in a victory.
Although everyone else seems hopeful, the woman in red is panicking – she was the only person that week to be rooting for the Bills’ adversaries. Her presence and support of the other team earned her many angry glances, especially when the Bills lost the game.
On a day where the morale was particularly low and the Bills’ score was even worse, a few points was all it took for everyone to go wild and enjoy the moment, however short it was.
Looking in through the windows behind the bar, one can see and hear the Bills fans. This was certainly true for Kenny Tenzer when he went out for a cigarette, jersey on.
A few weeks before Christmas, McFadden’s was decorated with paint in the windows, and lights, garlands, red bows and nutcrackers inside. Defying the cold for a cigarette, Kenny Tenzer leans on the window in order not to miss a single play by his favorite team.
The actor sits on the windowsill by the door, eating bright chicken wings and occasionally breaking into a dance by himself. The doggy day care manager stands near the bar, eyes fixed on the large screen that hangs above his head. The young recruiter walks behind the bar, and the sales representative eats in the dining area. They all know each other, but not in those terms. Here, they are simply Adam, Ben, Matt and Kenny, and they are Buffalo Bills fans.
Though they see each other every week for at least 16 weeks a year, the young men don’t know much about one another except that, like the other regulars at McFadden’s Saloon, they come week after week to cheer on and support their football team – no matter how badly they might be doing or how dreadful the weather is.
“You want sports fans?” asked Jill Kerschensteiner, one of the women who make up the Bills Backers community at McFadden’s. “Well you got us. We’re here.” Continue reading “A Little Home in the Big City”
1. Working 24/7 rain or shine–this is not her weekend job
2. Guinea pigs share people’s kitchen floors in Canar and Azuay, south of Ecuador, before they’re roasted
3. Ana Maria sells mexican fried bread–her son-in-law introduced her into this bussiness
4. Baloon sellers are as popular as sugar candy in every Ecuadorian fair
5. At twenty, she doesn’t know what ’email’ is
6. His smile is a row of golden stars
7. These Ecuadorian empanadas are served white sugar on top. The only thing they lack is cheese
8. She doesn’t actually “buy your gold.” She’ll give you a phone number
9. Coming from Imababura, a province populated mostly by indigenous communities, she now advertises English classes in Queens
10. GUayaquileno is the gentilice for those born in Ecuador’s largest city, Guayaquil, a port in the coast of Ecuador.
11. Lucia attends “EL Guayaquileno,” a truck specializing in fish and seafood dishes
12. Came with her mother
13. Coupple listens to Christinne Quin’s speech
14. Bilingual posters were written on site, others were provided by Latino and GLBT associations
15. The victims of recent hate crimes
16. An injury to all
17. Bushwick neighbors joined ecuadorians in their march toward the site where jose Sucuzhanay lsot his life
18. Fliers, newspapers and political pamphlets found their way through the crowd’s hands
19. Daysies were distributed among those headed to the vigil in honor to Sucuzhanay
20. Public marchs like this are typical in Ecuador–a country with an average of 1 president every year since the 1990’s. This crowd is headed to Kossuth Place in Bushwick, Brooklyn
What do people in NYC picture when they hear about “Ecuadorians”? Whose images would I capture if I began to approach people that resembled my idea of Ecuadorians? Because of an economic crisis in the late 1990s, more than 600,000 Ecuadorians emigrated to the U.S. and Europe from 2000 to 2001 (5). Including undocumented migrants, it is unofficially estimated that there are approximately one million Ecuadorians currently residing in the U.S. (5). But even in Ecuador, a country whose officers adamantly call “multicultural,” citizens are not supposed to be easily categorized, and discussions about the right image to represent its population are endless.
Besides mestizos, in Ecuador there still remain over 1000 (1) indigenous cultures that have managed to preserve their own language, followed by smaller percentages of Afro-Ecuadorians and European descendent criollos. And after one has acknowledged the language and ethnic differences, one must consider the importance of yet another layer: Class.
Being an immigrant in Ecuador, although almost 15% (2) of the population has moved to the US and to European countries, is an open declaration that one is poor. Further than that, amongst the middle class that has not left the country, immigrants are stigmatized as uneducated, lower class citizens. A fact that statistics somewhat justify. More than half of the Ecuadorian immigrant community in the US and Spain have only finished grade school (3).
Among the people in power, immigration has been addressed trough a double discourse. On the one hand, immigration is referred to as a problem, and its decrease often has been one of the visible “goals” of the government. On the other hand, 6.9% (4) of Ecuador’s annual budget depends on the money that immigrants pump into the economy each year. This is, astonishingly, more or less half of the revenue that Ecuador obtains through oil drilling.
Although Ecuadorians were heavily concentrated in the mountainous central highland region a few decades ago, migration toward larger cities in all regions—coast, andes, amazon and Galapagos—has increased the urban population to over 60% (5). From migrating to big Ecuadorian cities to taking a further step and migrate to the US or Spain, there is a small distance. Continue reading “Ecuadorians in the Streets of New York City”
A Bit of Historyon Skateboarders, BMX and Scooter Freestyle Riders
In the year 1958, “Bill Richards, the owner of a surf shop in North Hollywood, California, saw some boys riding surfboards to which they’d attached wheels. He ordered some wheels from a roller skate company, attached them to boards, and began selling “sidewalk surfboards.” Later that year, Jan and Dean recorded a hit song, “Sidewalk Surfing,” which gave the new sport nationwide exposure. It got a new name in 1959, when the Roller Derby Skateboard was introduced”. [1] This bit of history becomes apparent to you when you watch skateboarders do their tricks. Waves have been substituted by ramps, surfer shorts have been substituted by jeans, hoodies, and sneakers, but the language between the two is still kind of the same; you would hear some skateboarders call each other “Dude” and if someone does a nice trick some of them would say “That was SICK!!!”
Freestyle BMX had become pretty well established in the year 1983; a few years after BMX motocross racing became popular[2]. Back than people used to practice their tricks in abandoned skateboarding parks. Today you would find BMX riders and skateboarders together in these parks. In the past decade or so, when the foldable scooters came out, scooter riders have also joined them, doing some of their best stunts on these scooters that I once thought were a child’s toy. Continue reading “Under the Brooklyn Bridge, Gliding on Top of the World”
These images didn’t make it into the final 20. But, if you like some of them and think they’re great, i’d like to hear about it.
balloon sellers are a must in every popular market in Ecuador
potential customers walk away from woman after photographer (ME) approaches
view through a window pane of an oven roasted pig, or “hornado,” an ecuadorian tradition recognized in all regions
“humitas,” special corn pastries, cousins of mexican tamales
a deformation of the traditional Jesus figure at a “curanderia”
the reception of “El Indio Amazonico,” a “curanderia” and divination bussiness
“Yes we can” or “Si se puede” was used in Ecuador first, when the national soccer team made it into the world championship for the first time 9 years ago
Exotic amazon butterflies (according to merchant) are only 20$
a coupple listens to the testimony of the mother of another victim of racial violence
“We want justice,” ecuadorians and other citizens sang during walk
Violence prepetrated by authorities and individuals alike was denounced in Myrtle Ave.
ecuadorian listens to City Council Speaker Christine Quinn’s speech
march towards Kossuth Place in Bushwick, Brooklyn, where last Sunday Jose Sucuzhanay lost his life to hate
“I’ve always been fascinated by Goths but I have no connectionto the commmunity. I have a project that I am
working on for my Capturing Communities Journalism class at Baruch College that I am focusing on the Goth
community of New York City. Can I interest you in speaking to me about what it is to be goth,describing what you know about the New York Scene, and just giving me a portrait of who you are as a person in addition to being goth? I want to do something special with this project.”
“Any reply will be appreciated. Thanks!”
Yaphet MurphySenior, Baruch College, New York City
I’m wasn’t sure if I can use these photos because I chose to cover 5 Pointz in Queens. This is from an art gallery in the Bronx. I figured this can bring a close to my project because many graffiti artists would love to have there work be shown publicly in a formal setting like an art gallery. Many of the artists’ whose work is displayed used to tag on trains back in the 80’s when it was really dangerous to. Many of the artists were there for the opening too. Revolt was one of the artists I met briefly. I also got to meet Martha Cooper, who is a photographer famous for documenting New York graffiti in the 80’s. One of the artists named Mare139 talked about how lucky he was to do what he loves and makes a living from it. He said that he always reminds himself, “Never mistake the business of art with the reason of art.”
