I continue this story (It's been a HELL of a winter so far, non?)
Day 3 in Brooklyn. I stay 'close to home.' I walk around, do some errands and take a few
photos late at night and visit an around-the-corner bar.
The great thing about the apartment's window is that I looked right out at a Laundromat.
There is a lot of life that happens around a neighborhood's laundromat, especially in NYC area.
I wished, desperately, that I smoked so I could hang out the window and photograph people silently while I smoked and watched...and brooded of sorts.
I wished in the cold night air, that I lived in the Jazz Loft place that Gene Smith did. And could take pictures such as he did on 6th Avenue of all the strange poses and conglomerations of people and places that naturally took place. I imbibed his persona as I waited, photographed and observed. I felt engaged even though I never spoke to anyone this night. I felt needed in some vague way that no one could every explicitly state, but that was necessary and yet secretly known all at the same time.
Here is one of my favorites from hanging out the window that night.. I love the grain and the mysteriousness. I love the voyer-istic element. I love hanging out of windows at night in Brooklyn and silently catching stills.
Once in awhile, well, BAM!