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.
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. Later I find out that Red Hook is the only part of New York City that, on land, has a full frontal view of the Statue.
My friend tells me stories of actually jumping into the river as kids, and hopping from the rickity posts jutting out of the water. But even this pier, the secret of the Red Hook children, has had dramatic improvements. There are no missing woods slats, as I am told there had been throughout my friend’s childhood. Like much of Red Hook, it has been given a major facelift, making way for a new generation of offspring.A giant Ikea store now straddles the water’s edge like a Colossus. A free water taxi and Ikea shuttle provide an express service, shooting the newcomers from pier to pier, or from train to pier, with no stops in between.
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. It is the only part of New York City that has a full frontal view of the Statue of Liberty from land. Like the statue, it has welcomed generations of immigrants throughout the history of this great city.
Recently, a new wave of travelers have been setting upon the land, but unlike the past settlers, they are not immigrants. Like many New York City urban neighborhoods, Red Hook is experiencing an onset of gentrification. Gentrification is a word that’s thrown around frequently in this time, but what does it mean? According to the dictionary, it is defined as the process of renewal and rebuilding accompanying the influx of middle-class or affluent people into deteriorating areas that often displaces poorer residents.
My project seeks to capture the metamorphosis of this community, in real time, as the old and the new meet head on. What does this actually mean to those who have spent their lives there, and those who now go there to build their lives? I hope to capture in images and words both the stark contrasts, and the inevitable blending that has always shaped the New Amsterdam landscape.
I got the idea for this community because I spend a great deal of time commuting. I’m also a fan of the performing and visual arts, so for years I found myself stopping to absorb and enjoy the virtually free entertainment provided by the various artists that descend the depths each day to make a living from their craft.
As I stand on-looking and finger-tapping, droves of my fellow straphangers buzz by indifferently, completely absorbed in their own minds. I wonder whether they can even hear my creative comrades — or if the sounds of the Spanish guitar, koto, pail drums, steel pans, or whatever other medium of sound — are muted out with the rest of the city din.
Recently, I noticed that many of these artists, who I had previously thought to be a heterogeneous group of traveling performers, are now donning a conformed banner, signifying an organization of some type, a community.
Thus, I went out to capture this underground community. Given the crowdedness of the NYC subways, it was difficult to snap these shots without a commuter ruining each one, so I went out on a quiet Sunday morning. These were my favorite shots…
Photo 1: Workspace
I came across this fellow strumming and plucking away at his Spanish guitar strings at the 59th street E train station. I was at first a bit nervous so I tried to snap a few quick shots without being noticed. Of course I inevitably was, but the guitarist smiled and nodded yes when I asked if I could take a few photos. I stood there for quite some time, waiting for a clear shot with no intruders. As I waited, another man approached our guitarist and spoke to him in Spanish. The man asked if he was from South America, and he said yes and that he was from Chile. They talked and laughed for a few minutes after that, then the man walked on.
I called this photo “Workspace” as sort of a play on words. For one, this was indeed the guitarist’s workspace, though one might not think of a subway platform as such. I also wanted to highlight the empty space this photo captures, mirroring the solitude this sort of profession affords.
Photo 2: Tools of the Trade
This gentleman was parked in the 42nd street underpass which connects the ACE trains to all the others. I called this one “Tools of the Trade” because I loved his improvised drums that create a beat all their own.
Photo 3: All in Day’s Work
I loved this photo. It captured the sweat on the breaker’s face and the money bucket. He truly works hard for the money. He also wanted to be photographed, so this was one of my easier to attain shots.
Photo 4: Direct Deposit
This was my favorite image. I had been trying to capture reflection photos for quite a while, only to be foiled by the glare of the flash. Here, I snapped a quick shot of the money bucket, and was not only able to capture the bright colors and signs of life in the otherwise dark and dreary subway, but was able to finally get a clear picture of reflection.
Photo 6: Brand Management
I spotted Professor Alvarez at the 42nd street station near the 123 trains. He was hunched over and smiling into his lap. His head nodded along with the dancing dolls before him. He had the familiar banner I had been seeing so much lately, and that inspired me to explore the underlying organization of the subway artist.