Flushing, Queens

As a resident of Jackson Heights, I am no more than a ten minute drive away from Flushing, Queens. Since childhood, Flushing has been my destination of choice for a variety of activities, including violin school and prep classes. As the years progressed, I found myself lodged in this community at least once every two days. However, like the people in my photographs, I usually rushed through the streets. This assignment allowed me a chance to stop and capture the Flushing that has slipped by in the past.

1: slam. two beeps. whoosh, hiss and a scrape from behind. rolling water between indistinct murmuring. shoes on a staircase and children running back and forth behind. bags of food litter tables and used tissues roll on the floor.

2: an 8pm sunrise. rubber on pavement, headlights darting. scurrying back and forth. bricks, metal, glass stand silently. the sunlight changes. red. green. blue. yellow. repeat.

3: “yi ge ji rou.” chicken sizzling, smell of red pepper in wafting smoke from red and gray coals. aluminum foil crackling. crowd gnawing in back. tree leaves hang, hot and dry in unrelenting smoke. illuminated by queens crossing.

4: zipper of cars. tires screech to halt. angry horns and a slow-changing light. pedestrians overflow from sidewalk. a push and shove from behind. hurried heels clack onto the pavement of the road. angry yells.

5: a siren. “back away! back away!.” a herd of people. worry. fear. anger. utter curiosity. footsteps rushing to the police car barricade. two cops in front of doorway. pairs of eyes stare. watch. BANG! a metal baseball bat strikes the windows. again. again. one man yelling, screaming and frustrated. more sirens, more cops to disperse the crowd. an outsider yells “shoot him.”