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I was laying on my back in the grass, an opportunity you don’t pass on in NYC. Rain was falling is sparse dustings. The drops felt like spring fighting the troughs of winter lashings. How many competing gusts brought the drops to terminus on my face?
Bryant Park is my favorite park in the city.
It is… cozy, somehow.
I was waiting for my train and contemplating missing its tenuous appointment for the intangible opportunity of an unexpected, untamed night. There are always whispers of adventure that float through the drafty streets of this city. Its a chemical blend of the exhaust, the exhaled breaths of a thousand thousand people, the concrete dust, and a score of active aromas that curl and combust into sentience: the drifting life force of New York.
I was nearly asleep when this ghost snapped me from my musings.
The sky a violet, churning purple. My favorite sky; a sleepy royal vibration.
I stood, brushing amused grass from my hair and looked straight down West 41st like you are now. It was a rousing sight.
Eyes watery from yawning, colors blotched and shapes converged like a rushing crowd of family and sailors eager to tell each other about their adventures. I blinked and the lines were straight again, the buildings quietly minding their own. The sun trumpeted its departure. I rushed to capture the final moment’s of its announcement.
A frozen photo of New York is an untrue vestige of the living, anomalous city.
To feel the heart of New York you need to see its colors run.
A petulant cab driver raced for the next red light and the city passed indifferently while I stole light and mused about grass.
New York, NY. 2014
About the prints: I print on premium lumachrome paper that is unparalleled in depth and luminosity. All pieces come face mounted to acrylic and ready to hang using french cleats. I also offer Tabacchino and other handmade framing options. All my pieces are editions of 50. For inquiries regarding prints contact me at firstname.lastname@example.org.