Welcome to In the Flash, a reader-supported publication about intent and creativity in photography
It happened. I woke up this morning and I was 44. I was greeted by a blue rose, that my husband, Sasha, got me, knowing that nothing will make me happier than a Twin Peaks reference. (I wrote about my obsession with David Lynch’s Twin Peaks, the Return, in an earlier post)
Thank you to everyone who bought prints!! If you bought one, I would love if you could share a photo with me once they are framed, whether in email, Substack, or Instagram. It is always fun to see my photos in their new home.
I got so much positive feedback for the photo stories that I decided to do a part 2. Here are some more of the stories behind the photos.
I have been walking through empty New York City for months during the pandemic, photographing the project that became Dark City. The few people passing through the streets did so without interacting either with the city space or each other. In June, things began to slowly change as the restrictions were lifted and New Yorkers began to slowly take the city back. This photo is an intersection of those two realities—the remains of a ghostly metropolis repopulated by familiar gestures.
Crowd photos are hard because they dissolve humanity in favor of the collective, amorphous mass. This is possibly my luckiest photo, because every single person watching the runway at Paris Fashion Week is caught in a perfect state of reverie, becoming a vignette of their own without being consumed by the crowd. My favorite is the woman with red lipstick holding a camera. I get lost looking at her every time.
When I took this image, I was entranced by the light on the three women's faces and by the recurring motif of an odd person out. Yet, this image tapped into a visceral dislike of social media, creating a fierce debate about how hyperconnected society breeds loneliness. Though my intention was nothing of the sort, the discussion raised fascinating questions. Why do we find people glued to their smartphones so “sad,” when we ourselves are probably looking at them on our smartphones? Why are we more likely to put ourselves in the place of the untethered woman? And why does analog boredom seem to have nobility a notch above digital engrossment?
Charity luncheon in New York City. When photographing the 1%, I am not being a social justice warrior looking to condemn or ridicule. I try to channel the low-key anxiety resulting from a piquant mix of envy and bemusement into a voyeuristic glimpse of an insulated and unattainable subculture. My camera is often intrusive, but no matter how close, the oversized diamond rings and designer purses signal an unbridgeable rift between their world and ours.
Twenty years ago, I went to my first and last psychic. I was attending NYU, pursuing pre-med and psychology. The psychic gave me the usual swivel, adding to it that I will become an artist. That was the right thing to say to a young woman desperately seeking guidance, wearing goth-ish makeup and a Pink Floyd t-shirt. Since I picked up the camera, I have photographed the seductive glow of psychic stores as spaces of hustle, theater, and comfort.
The last show of a hectic day at New York Fashion Week got hijacked by a stray heel stuck in the escalator leading to the runway. The crowd was directed into a roundabout, creating traffic and grumbling. I saw the shoe stuck on top of the escalator and flew up the stairs to take one shot before a security guard shooed me away.
This photo was taken in the first week of the pandemic lockdown in NYC and became the catalyst for the Dark City series. It was the one moment of comfort I caught during those first desolate, dystopian weeks.
A Debutante ball is a lavish, anachronistic event in which young women from rich families wear white dresses to announce their entrance into society. The women are subjected to formalities and are on their feet all evening, parading themselves in front of discerning guests, friends, and family. I caught this yawn at the end of a long night, and juxtaposed with the decadent necklace and a bridal bouquet, it encapsulates all the contradictions of the tradition.
A few people asked me to add this to the print sale, and I am happy to do so. This scene took a lot of patience as I was building a photo around the three Amish girls eating ice cream. The girls were sitting in an empty space, aware of my camera but not paying attention to it, as I was waiting for the right characters to come along. First, a couple sat down on the right. People were going in and out of the ice cream shop, but none of them worked for the composition. Then a young Mennonite couple walked in, and as the young man stood still in the red glow of the window, I caught the young woman coming through the door. The photo was complete, and I took just one shot before it dissolved into disorder.
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I purchased Green Man, Dark City aka Peeing Dog, last year, and so excited for Ice Cream Shop as that's the image that brought me to you. Once that arrives, I will share pics of both in our home. And Happiest of Birthdays!
“why does analog boredom seem to have nobility a notch above digital engrossment?” Why indeed? I love the shoe in the escalator.