Y sin vicios. Ninguno? Ni siquiera una? That’s a tough one.
translation: “Room in apartment for super clean responsible person that works. Good hygiene habits, and no vices. Now available.”
from the series, “For Rent”
(jackson heights, queens, ny)
Taking pictures is like tiptoeing into the kitchen late at night and stealing Oreo cookies.
“
| — | Diane Arbus |
The beach. As interpreted by the borough of Queenz. Just because Walker Evans said I shouldn’t.
from the series, “Waterfront”
(long island city, queens, ny)
Photography is not cute cats, nor nudes, motherhood or arrangements of manufactured products. Under no circumstances it is anything ever anywhere near a beach.
“
| — | Walker Evans |
east coast of Gotham, as seen from the west coast of Queenz #3
both the cement, and the wooden, piers were equally crumbly and enticing.
from the series, “Waterfront”
(long island city, new york)
past her prime, she still has lovely bones.
I didn’t notice the child on the right until after the shot was taken. I think (s)he’s the reason I like this photograph so much.
(asbury park, new jersey)
like Rita Sweeney, this sign is also gone. look before you cross, on foot or in two tons of steel, glass, and rubber. (I admit I do not understand the Bob Fosse-like jazz hands. Suggestions are welcome)
the my suburban dream
countless cans of beer went in one end & out th’other,
Our way,
littered with crushed cans
& used condoms
& crumpled hard packs of Marlboro red.
from here t’there, fueled by testosterone, no-doz, white crosses & beer;
from there & back, stinking of sex, sangria, love’s baby soft & dippity do.
running
under the high tension
pushing past the red line
down the dirt road;
following
each other
trailing sparks
and sparkles
wherever we went.
(levittown, long island)
here lays a friend to all pigeons. trinity churchyard cemetery.
part of a series: “post mortem”
(wall street & broadway, nyc)
given a choice, I will almost always choose texture and risk, over smooth and safe. in my men, and in my weather.
(lost in the backroads of queens, ny)
Art is not to be found by touring to Egypt, China, or Peru; if you cannot find it at your own door, you will never find it.
“
| — | Ralph Waldo Emerson |
