Having a title of a celebrity figure, it was hard to to capture Amenda Lepore’s undivided attention, nevertheless I was able capture her during the most significant moments of the night and have a short chat with her after the event. Her birthday party was one of the most staggering events that I have attended. Mr. Black, one of New Yorks most discreet transgender night clubs was packed wall to wall with Amanda Lepore’s closest friends, photographers and herself sitting in the VIP section, behind the velvet ropes.
Usually transgenders are found amongst gay crowds in gay clubs. This even was different, or at least the crowd was. It was a very diverse and mixed crowd, which consisted of girls, gay and straight guys and transsexuals. Amongst the crowd were some of her closest friends, her photographers and people who belong to her community.
Even though she does not consider herself to be a transsexual, but rather just a female, she nevertheless is a figure everyone in that community looks up to. Because of her out of this world, extraordinary appearance she has attracted the worlds most renown photographers such as David LaChapelle. Jeremy Cost, a photographer whom I was fortunate enough to speak with told me that he has captured Amanda Lepores ever changing appearance as she underwent and still undergoes plastic surgeries on monthly bases. He claims that she is “ever changing and everlasting” because as her appearance incessantly changes over the years, she does not age.
A very close friend of hers, Anjela Muzzo, who is also a transvestite told me that Amanda Lepore was not just trying to become a female, but she was striving to look like no other human alive and she has accomplished just that. Her protoge was “Another version of Marilyn Monroe,” and according to her friend, she considers herself accomplished, both in terms of looks and importance. Marilyn Monroe will be always remembered as the beauty of the early nineteen twenties, perhaps Amanda Lepore will occupy the same position in the transgender community.
These vintage black-and-white photographs were taken by Dr. Kenneth Tydings, a podiatrist in Long Beach, NY whose avocation was photography. Dr. Tydings authored approximately 75 instructional and photography books and filled those books with photographs of his family and his city. These images capture life in Long Beach, a boardwalk town, from the late 1940’s through the 1970’s.
My fictional collection of linked stories, Boardwalk Stories, covers the same decades. Each one of the fourteen stories–Digging to China, Eavesdropping, Watching for the Enemy, Skeeball, Playworld, The Prize, Dog Tags, Miss Lydia’s Dance Studio, The Wrong Side of Town, Jolly Trixie Keeps from Getting Blue, Orphan’s Day, The Answer Girl, Working the Switchboard, and Splinters–evokes life on and by the boardwalk–often in the shadow of the Cold War. Each story is paired with one of Dr. Tyding’s boardwalk photographs. Watching for the Enemy is paired with his photo of a World War II lookout tower for German submarines. TheAnswer Girl is paired with a fortune teller game. Skeeball is paired with a photo inside an arcade.
The final result is Boardwalk Stories, a collection that captures a boardwalk community in words and images.
A family takes a stroll while all businesses bearing Jewish names are closed.
An older boy confidently walks forward while the girl tries to attract his attention with something she’s saying.
One of the many families spending the time together
Aren, 13, and Zaly, 14; cousins
“We eat and sleep”
Three young boys take a stroll on a Saturday afternoon, unsupervised.
THe only bright spot I saw the whole day
Saturday.
Few white clouds grace the blue sky and bright yellow sun caresses the cheeks. But the air no longer has the careless warmth of summer. Winter begins to fight for what righteously will be hers in acouple of months and my fingertips can already feel the icy touch.
I get off the subway in the middle of a new untouchable world. My camera is ready, I see a great subject and bring the viewer to my eye. All I see is darkness. I start laughing inside thinking that I forgot to remove the lens cap, again. I bring my camera down and I see a big round hat floating in front of me and blocking the view. The man says something I don’t understand, but his face and tone don’t need translation. I quickly turn and head in a different direction.
That was refreshing. I definitely need to change my tactic. I no longer point my camera where it doesn’t belong. I am using the maximum zoom. I make no eye contact with my subject right before or after I take a photograph. I find myself extremely interested in architecture of the neighborhood, pretending that I am taking photographs of the streets and building, rather than people.
As I proceed I see parents cover their children’s faces, I see families cross the streets, I notice the curious, yet unsure look on the faces of children playing alone: they are curious about a newcomer with a camera, but they don’t know if they are allowed to approach or if they should go away.
As I walk the streets I see a couple of teenagers having a discussion in the middle of the street. I gather myself and point my camera at them. I see one of them notice me, I am almost ready to put the camera down when I see a smile appear on his face and a hand rise in a wave instead of a block. They approach, they pose for me, they are curious. I am afraid to invade their world too much, but it is them that won’t let me go. My friendly informers, I call them. Aren, 13, with blonde hair and blue eyes, and Zaly, 14, brunette with hazel eyes, tell me they are cousins. They both grew-up here and like it very much except for the garbage. “It is not so clean” Aren tells me. They both go to school and are fond of sports. Aren is on his school’s baseball team and Zaly is on the basketball team.
They tell me that Saturday is bad day for me to come shoot their neighborhood – the streets are empty. (As I look around I can only imagine what this neighborhood looks like when streets are not empty.) They tell me that on Saturday they are not allowed to make phone calls, to drive, to smoke, to light a fire, though they are allowed to take from an already existing fire, and are not allowed to turn on the lights. Well, Aren tells me that progress took care of the last part – they just put timers on the night before and lights turn on automatically.
They point out a Sukkah to me. It is a sort of a summer house, a construction outside of one’s home (or on the balcony as I noticed later) that they put up during the holiday of Sukkot. What do you do inside, I ask. We eat and sleep, tells me Aren. He also tells me where I can find some of the best, wealthiest and most decorated sukkah’s in the neighborhood. I later realize that he meant the inside, a place where I am definitely not welcome.
A woman appears at the door across the street and says something to my new friends. Aren quickly explains that his mom made dessert and he has to go, but her face and tone do not spell dessert to me. Both boys quickly go back to their houses without saying good bye.
And I am back to being an unwelcome outsider. I hear happy voices, laughter and joyous singing coming from inside the houses and sukkah’s, but I don’t see any of that in the faces I meet along the way.
As my little invasion into this world comes to an end, I leave with a sense of awe and respect, and a little fear.
Laura Gadson poses with her quilt bearing Sept. 11, 2001 motif.
Laura Gadson – The Faces of Black Beauty
Ruth Miller poses with one of her embroidered tapestries.
Eli Kince – Man Loves Jazz
The traditional community I attempted to capture was Harlem. Walking down 125th St., I saw such vibrancy, such color. I saw black people showing off their culture in a community that they knew embraced them, accepted them, respected them, and even protected them. I knew I must capture this community, and share it.
After cruising the streets, surreptitiously snapping photos, feeling like an outsider and experiencing paranoia, I almost gave up on capturing Harlem. And then, this weekend past, I had a breakthrough. Harlem artists opened their doors for the Harlem Open Artist Studio Tour and the related Strivers Art Circuit Tour. I was welcomed into the homes and galleries of some of Harlem’s finest artists, for food, for wine, for conversation, and for photos.
This photo collection is a sample of the images I captured.
Jackson Heights is a part of Queens that in the 30’s and 40’s was a predominantly Jewish, European neighborhood. It is now a community mainly consisting of people of Hispanic origin with an additional increase of an Asian and Eastern European population.
1. People selling books and other small items in the streets in “Little India” is not an uncommon thing.
2-3. A homeless woman named Milly takes a nap in front of a watch store while people pass her by.
4-5. “Centro Cristiano Adonai”, an Hispanic pentecostal church passes pamphlets out while playing and dancing to Christian music.
6. Roosevelt Avenue under the 7-line’s train tracks
Union Square in the middle of a weekday is such an interesting sight… all around the square are shops and nice restaurants filled with business people taking a quick break, but inside the park are dozens of homeless people who all seem to know each other. They sleep, they sit, they eat on the benches and on the paths, and seem comfortable with their surroundings.
I have to say that going there with my camera, I at times felt scared and had to walk away pretty quickly at times. The smells were sometimes questionable, to say the least, and I oftentimes had to pretend that I was taking pictures of something behind my subjects. I felt like I stood out like a sore thumb, and was glad to have brought someone with me.
Additional Field Notes –
Photo 1 – This picture took me a few minutes to execute, because I felt as though I was really invading the subjects’ privacy. Standing in front of them with my fairly large camera, I felt that they knew what I was up to, and so I tried to act as natural as one can do so in this context. I really liked the suitcases because I feel that they capture the nomadic nature of the subjects, as well as their ability to settle anywhere at any given moment.
Photo 2 – The two boys, who were that day out for one of the Jewish holidays, were obviously from a completely different world than the two other men, yet they were all talking animatedly together. I really felt that the scene captured the essence of New York City, where people from all different backgrounds and of various occupations can mingle with relative ease.
Photo 3 – There was something about this lone smoke that made me want to take his picture, perhaps because I felt that he illustrated the so many other smokers of the area. After taking the picture, I really liked how it turned out and chose to include it.
Photo 4 – In the midst of the bustling city, inside this small park, this scene felt oddly personal to me. I don’t know who the subjects are nor what the topic of their discussion was, but they looked to me as two old friends would after not seeing each other for a while. I left the picture in color because it felt so alive to me that putting it in Black and White would have taken away from it.
Photo 5 – I first saw this lady from the street, from behind, and her installment looks all the more intriguing from that point of view. The pictures I saw when I came around were of various places in the city, though none were particularly striking. What I tried to capture in the picture was the fact that no one stopped to look at her work; everyone passed her by, stuck in a moment.
The streets of Main Street, Flushing on an unseasonably warm Fall day, these are the faces of a neighborhood.
The morning paper handed to you as you rush through the crowds on your way down the escalators into the iron rooster that is the number 7 train.
Andy, the realtor – Has been in Flushing since coming from China in 1989. “First it was the Koreans, then came the Chinese and now we have the Indians and Pakistani, I have seen all the changes that have come to settle on Main Street”
Tang, the seeker – Sits down waiting for the “Luck Doctor” to prescribe what year will be lucky for her daughter to marry her boyfriend. “You give him the month and year of your birth and the rest is up to the “doctor” and his pencil to tell you what year will be lucky for you – to love, to marry and get money.”
He swirls amid the crowds pushing into your hands a flyer for a cell phone company right down in the heart of Main Street. He utters not a sound and his determined and calm gaze is all that lingers.
The shy Muslim girl outside of Kabul Kabab Restaurant did not want her picture taken but in an instant click click and it was done.
Yang, the vendor – Came to New York from China six years ago. Sells newspapers, caps, phone cards and lotto tickets from his small vending square. He speaks little English but was more than eager to have his picture taken. He smiled at me as I asked permission and then retreated into his space.
Haries, the student – I saw him walking down Main Street and Maple dressed in a kurta and knew I had to take his picture; he reminded me of my trip to India. It turned out he is from from Lahore, Pakistan and is a 32 year old Queens College student studying to be a lawyer. On the side he has a construction business in NJ in which he flips houses for a profit.
I arrived New York following a one year backpacking trip through South and Central America. During my first months in the Big Apple I used to visit Spanish Harlem often, re-experiencing the tastes that I missed. When this assignment was given and I was thinking about this neighborhood that I loved, I realized how quickly the New York pace has taken over me. Its been over 4 years since I’ve made my way uptown, and I found the scenery somewhat different but the soul is still the same.
Field Notes:
Sunday Mass Aftermath: Just arriving the neighborhood I noticed a group of people stepping up from the basement. Peeking inside I found this simple church with few people still there chatting. I had a chance to take a couple of photos before I was asked, not very kindly, to leave. After this unpleasant experienceI decided to take a different tactic and to make sure people are comfortable with me and my camera.
Pasando el Dia: This group of men didn’t seem to have any particular reason in lining along the sidewalk. That is how I found them, and even as we were chatting andI asked to take the picture no one bothered to change his position. I was wondering whether man sitting was a matter of hierarchy but was afraid that such a question would not go down well with my broken Spanish.
Day Game at Shea: As a Mets fan I found it easy to approach Etol. He was standing outside a residential building, with a much elderly friend sitting on the stairs next to him. He was listening to the baseball game that took place not to far in Queens. The Mets had the lead, so that explains his joy (of course they ended up loosing the game though).
Holding Court: I found a group of men hanging out on the street, just outside a small neighborhood park. No one was in the park itself. The man photographed was the only one sitting. I asked if I could take a picture of his watch that had the Puerto Rican flag embodied in it, and that was the result.
Manuel was just about to enter the building when I stopped him and asked where did he get his hat from. He said he bought it in Puerto Rico and that I can probably find something similar around the neighborhood. I asked to take a picture of his cap. His expression in the photo surprised me, it seemed like the camera exposed something about him that I missed.
People like to dress up. How each person responds to her attire, however, is harder to generalize. The children in this essay all wear some kind of accessory that reminds one of the mainstream stereotypes of the Middle Ages. A paper crown, a sword, a vest. The Festival was in fact a long paved way with hundreds of stands at each side, one next to the other. At these tents things were sold: phosphorescent puppets, velvety dresses, real blades, turkey legs, canned pickles, palm readings. It was about selling; the Middle Ages were just the label under which all kinds of products were being pushed. The organizers’ imagination was limited to having the salespeople dress up like fairy tale characters, scattering a number of singers who chanted church-like tunes, and inviting a group of school children to dance to Celtic songs on an improvised court.
The main consumers, of course, were children. Unlike adults, every child at Tyron’s Park Medieval Festival carried something that signaled that they belonged in there. Snow-White was extremely popular, surpassed only by warriors who, if they lacked a shield or a helmet, held a plastic sword on their belts. But after wearing the costume, there comes a period of time in which people make decisions about how they will relate to the new weights they carry on their hips, or about the long dress that becomes entangled with the feet. This period, however, is uneven in length. Some kids behave as if carrying wings on their backs was just as carrying their backpack. To others, their attire is an invitation to play—to incarnate the soldier they wanted to look like. And yet other children, after exploring the new identity they assumed through their costume, take longer to return to their known behavior.
These pictures focus on children who exhibit these and other behaviors that are harder to figure out at once. Some titles are quotations from overheard conversations amongst the crowd.
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.”
Being a girl from the South Bronx, living just three stops away from Harlem on the Bronx bound two and/or five train, I never really got to see Harlem the way I did up until this project. I used to work in Harlem during my senior year in high school in a store called Rainbow, which was located just a block away from the Apollo. I knew everything there was to know about Apollo’s history and its importance but there was a part of Harlem I really never got to know; a very important aspect as in matter of fact: The People. Working in retail in Harlem meant that I clocked in at 9AM and closed down the store. Having a schedule like this did not give me time to to interact with the people in Harlem other then the customers that came in and out of the store. I went into Harlem to just photograph its important historical structures for this assignment. As I was capturing an image of a couple of the many brownstones in Harlem, two elder men said good afternoon and asked me what was it that I was doing. I started speaking and soon enough we all were having a conversation. This is when I realized that Harlem was a community that is very different from the South Bronx. As I was observing, in Harlem everyone seems to know each other, and they greet each other as they passed one another. This was so weird to me. Where I am from, many people just stick to themselves and just greet those they know. Now I see Harlem differently. It is not just a shopping district to me anymore; now I have met some people that made me see it in a completely different way: a community that welcomes you with open arms.
The Support. Brownstones are the architectures that Harlem are known for; they support what Harlem is all about. Much in the same way the people of Harlem are supporting a certain candidate in the upcoming presidential election. Just take a peek through the window in the image and you’ll know who I am talking about.
Long Time Friends. Left: Percival Burke, has lived in Harlem for 54 years. He came here from Trinidad. Right: Teddy Smith, has lived in Harlem for 40 years. They have been friends since for quite some time now.
The past, the present, and what’s to come. Thousands of famous artists have performed in the Apollo; even the not so famous. It is still standing today and I am sure it has many more years to go.
Power of the People. Left: Edgar J. Ridley, a business man in Harlem. Middle: Dr. Jack Felder, known for his scientific findings and is very well respected in Harlem. Right: Nova, Dr. Felder’s son. Talking to them, I found out that these three men stand up for what they believe in no matter what the obstacles may be. This is what made them succeed and be where they are today.
“Here, we all come together” St. Martin’s Church is one of the many churches in Harlem. When I met Percival and Teddy, Percival asked me, “Did you take a picture of the place where they all come together?” I knew he was talking about a place of worship and I said “Yes, I took a picture of one of them, St. Martin’s.” I thought his quote for what a church is was so impressive that I just had to use it for the caption.
