“One belongs to New York instantly, one belongs to it as much in five minutes as in five years”
While I am quickly becoming known for my long blog entries, I’m going to break with tradition and leave you with only a brief paragraph and this single image.
This untitled image is available as a limited edition print and was photographed in New York City. In my mind, it sums up the spirit of the Empire State. The city is a moving machine, dark and gritty and at the same time full of life and energy. The clouds hang low overhead, gray and ominous, scraping the eaves of the towers, arrogantly jutting into the winter sky. The detritus of the city takes to the air with the gusts of wind that reach down with long, snaking arms between the mirrored piles of steel and concrete, whipping hair into eyes and sending balls of crumpled paper rolling like tumbleweed in the Wild West. This is the Wild East though, and cowboys are supplanted by interns and artists and more interns. It’s a city that’s hard to love, but just as hard not to.
