My photos of the Morris Park Community Patrol ran in The New York Times December 28.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Muslim Girl Praying in Synagogue
My photos of Muslim Indonesian exchange student Dinar Puspita praying at a Bronx synagogue ran in The New York Times December 7. I was allowed to photograph all aspects of her ritual except the act of praying.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Monday, December 15, 2008
JB NY Times Neediest Case Crystal Perez
My photos of NY Times Neediest Case Fund recipient Crystal Ramirez ran in the newspaper on Friday, December 12 and as part of a multimedia piece.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
Street Recycler
I saw this guy collecting recycling outside apartment buildings on 238th Street while walking back to the subway after a New York Times assignment on Wednesday, December 3rd.
He was deaf and dumb, so I asked him if I could take his picture by typing a text message into my cell phone and showing him the screen. He let me know it was okay by pulling a Daily News out of his recycling and giving me a big smile.
Another nearby recycler speculated that this guy's take was worth more than $100, though he was at a loss for how the guy was going to transport his huge load.
Recycling is a full-time job and recyclers typically know the superintendents at the buildings where they collect cans and bottles. In this way, there are well-established informal territories for collection. A recycler typically makes between $200-$300 a week. This was an atypically good day as people consume more and create more recycling during the holidays.
He was deaf and dumb, so I asked him if I could take his picture by typing a text message into my cell phone and showing him the screen. He let me know it was okay by pulling a Daily News out of his recycling and giving me a big smile.
Another nearby recycler speculated that this guy's take was worth more than $100, though he was at a loss for how the guy was going to transport his huge load.
Recycling is a full-time job and recyclers typically know the superintendents at the buildings where they collect cans and bottles. In this way, there are well-established informal territories for collection. A recycler typically makes between $200-$300 a week. This was an atypically good day as people consume more and create more recycling during the holidays.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Chris Mann pt II
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Nytimes.com Lead Image
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Hope in the Streets of New York
NEWS: go to http://www.lastexitmag.com for a recently published photo essay from this blog post
My Bloomberg assignment was to shoot a Young Republicans party at 7pm, a Young Democrats party at 8:30 pm and file my pictures by 11. The Young Republicans party was predictably dour and square and the Young Democrats event was not surprisingly raucous and hip. I dashed to a Starbucks at 10:15 and left only as they were closing up shop.
I walked onto the streets of Times Square just as the clock struck midnight. Times Square itself was packed beyond my ability to even enter. So I turned east on 46th St, hoping to walk across to a less crowded avenue and catch a cab back to Gramercy. It had been a long day.
As I walked down the street, I saw small crowds gathering around cars that had pulled over to the side. The car owners had their windows and sun roofs open and were blasting Obama's acceptance speech. Barack's voice, projected from so many car stereos, echoed off the office buildings. I stopped alongside a silver BMW owned by a black couple who were smiling as they listened.
A homeless black man approached the front of the car, lay an American flag down on the street, knelt and began kissing it, tears streaming down his face. The man was visibly drunk, and just as the crowd was preparing to shoo him out of the street, a young Latino man put his arm around him and declared, "Respect this man! He has waited a long time for this!" The couple in the BMW waited patiently.
Most photographers would criticize me for this, but I didn't shoot any photos of that scene. For better or worse, I just decided to be fully present for myself and soak in the moment.
I continued east before hailing a cab on Sixth Avenue. I implored the cabbie to turn up the radio as soon as I got in. Obama's speech was ending. The cabbie and I traded "Amen!" and "That's Right!" from the back seat to the front as President Elect Barack addressed the nation.
When the speech ended, I asked the cabbie his name. "Mamadou". Mamadou was born in Guinea. He immediately informed that I would not be paying the fare. "I even just took a man to New Jersey and didn't let him pay either. This is the greatest country on earth that you could elect a black man president! You know, a president never make me cry before in my life. It is my honor to drive you Americans tonight."
The windows down, Mamadou and I rode on in quiet with satisfied grins as the radio reported a major celebration underway in Harlem.
My Bloomberg assignment was to shoot a Young Republicans party at 7pm, a Young Democrats party at 8:30 pm and file my pictures by 11. The Young Republicans party was predictably dour and square and the Young Democrats event was not surprisingly raucous and hip. I dashed to a Starbucks at 10:15 and left only as they were closing up shop.
I walked onto the streets of Times Square just as the clock struck midnight. Times Square itself was packed beyond my ability to even enter. So I turned east on 46th St, hoping to walk across to a less crowded avenue and catch a cab back to Gramercy. It had been a long day.
As I walked down the street, I saw small crowds gathering around cars that had pulled over to the side. The car owners had their windows and sun roofs open and were blasting Obama's acceptance speech. Barack's voice, projected from so many car stereos, echoed off the office buildings. I stopped alongside a silver BMW owned by a black couple who were smiling as they listened.
A homeless black man approached the front of the car, lay an American flag down on the street, knelt and began kissing it, tears streaming down his face. The man was visibly drunk, and just as the crowd was preparing to shoo him out of the street, a young Latino man put his arm around him and declared, "Respect this man! He has waited a long time for this!" The couple in the BMW waited patiently.
Most photographers would criticize me for this, but I didn't shoot any photos of that scene. For better or worse, I just decided to be fully present for myself and soak in the moment.
I continued east before hailing a cab on Sixth Avenue. I implored the cabbie to turn up the radio as soon as I got in. Obama's speech was ending. The cabbie and I traded "Amen!" and "That's Right!" from the back seat to the front as President Elect Barack addressed the nation.
When the speech ended, I asked the cabbie his name. "Mamadou". Mamadou was born in Guinea. He immediately informed that I would not be paying the fare. "I even just took a man to New Jersey and didn't let him pay either. This is the greatest country on earth that you could elect a black man president! You know, a president never make me cry before in my life. It is my honor to drive you Americans tonight."
The windows down, Mamadou and I rode on in quiet with satisfied grins as the radio reported a major celebration underway in Harlem.
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