stoically standing in opposition to change, combinations of metal, wood and concrete remain a vigilant reminder of this swiftly changing organism. this place by the name of New York.
the desert. the dry heat. horizon after horizon collapsing upon the last. the freedom that that is only matched by the expansive desert sky. the romantic musings of manifest destiny. a place that allows the mind to wander, the senses to readjust, to recalibrate to the world.
with every step upon the uneven cobbles, a new discovery revealed around each corner. tracing footsteps of kings and emperors becomes commonplace. the wonderment and fascination set against the vicious and intolerant. here, across this land, history and tales rest in sedimentary layers mimicking the very ground they are built upon.
I found myself in a place precariously balanced between the daily struggles of life and the ability to live each day as if it were a gift. Radiating smiles and bright eyes hide under clothes hand-sewn and handed down. Feet in tattered sandals play soccer as if before thousands of cheering countrymen. Homes awash in vibrant, living color stand in mourning of their own slow passing and decay, the resilient paint embattled with crumbling foundations. Glances of hope lay hidden, held back only by fear of the unknown.
An energy that emanates outwards from beyond its history of struggle, vast inequity, and civil war can be found around every corner, in every smile, in every new brick laid.
It is this dance, between warmth and solitude that this series seeks to convey.