What a difference a day makes… shortly after my prev post, I lost access to my personal Twitter account. The past two days have been a bit chaotic and an inconvenience to say the least, to be locked out of the platform that has been the center of my community of artists, collectors, devs, supporters and importantly friends for the past two years. I won’t go down this rabbit hole as I’m committed to exploring more of the collection here, and while I battle Twitter to get my account back, it’s given me some space to think about diversifying and the dangers of relying on one platform, or one of anything. More about that in a future post!

We left off in the previous post with some images from the 80’s and 90’s. Here’s another important photograph from that time period that I took in Paris, in front of the Gare du Nord train station. Looking back on this image brought up some interesting thoughts about my role as a photographer.

Since the evolution of the handheld camera, photographers throughout history have pointed their cameras at the most vulnerable of our society. Blind Woman by Paul Strand comes to mind. What is the value of recording these images? Is it ethical? Is it exploitative? I would argue it is important to make images of all people in our society without judgment and with care. As this man was sleeping, it certainly made it an easier decision for me as I didn’t need to ask permission. But there are some beautiful bits of information in this photograph that have earned its place in my consciousness over the years.

First, the dog. It brings me hope. I imagine the dog doesn’t judge the man. He/she seems to be looking out for him while he sleeps. On the ledge above the man are five framed photographs, one of which depicts the dog in virtually the same position. I felt my image was confirming their importance by capturing this again. Two of the pictures are of the man in this place shot from about where I was standing. My picture somehow reflected the others. This seems to be his domicile and in spite of his apparent condition, marked by the wheelchair oddly positioned next to a typical French cafe chair, he has decorated his space with some measure of pride. I imagined he was the Mayor of this section of the rue. Viewing this I feel sadness too, compassion, gratitude and respect. It’s important to me that we make these pictures and share them. I do believe when one of us suffers we all suffer. To not look at pictures like this is then to shield us from the discomfort and allow us to pretend they are not there. Let’s not make these folks invisible. I was on my way back to London at the time (note the bags on my shoulders in the reflection), but would have liked to have given him a framed copy of this to put on his mantle.

My wife and I attended conferences for a few summers on Star Island, an outcropping of rocks part of the Isle of Shoals 6 miles off the coast of New Hampshire. This small group of islands played host to the honeymoon of legendary pirate Blackbeard, and has a rich and dark history of murders and ghosts. The annual softball game is always a highlight of the week for the kids (and parents). In this image the triangulation between the small cemetery in left field, the American flag on the right, and the batter- whose bat strikes the ball at the precise moment I pressed the shutter- frames a scene of surreal Americana. For historical reference, this photograph sits in the pantheon of images of the American pastime like “Lunch Hour” by John Gutmann in San Francisco 1934 and “Sandlot Batter” by American photographer Helen Levitt in 1940.

Lastly for this chapter, we’ll look at a recent image from Bring it Home, “9th Ave NYC.” My reference for this image is 100% Garry Winogrand. One of the preeminent street photographers of the 20th century, my favorite Winogrand image asks questions hidden in the surreal play between light and shadow and the juxtaposition of elements. This photo developed a block away when I saw this plume of steam coming from the laundry room exhaust of the Fulton Senior Center on 9th Ave. One by one people walking north passed through the white plume unaware of the magic images they were creating. I peered through the viewfinder inching my way into a place that would capture this surreal scene and waited. One by one people passed as the plume did its best not to comply with my wishes. I took 3-4 frames just to warm up knowing these were not the shots and then it happened. Two men approached, faces obscured by the cloud, feet in lock step, shadows perfectly aligned. One frame. Got it.

I hope you’re enjoying these stories from the collection. Until next time!

X,

Barry

Bring it Home is live on Foundation Jan 18.

What a difference a day makes… shortly after my prev post, I lost access to my personal Twitter account. The past two days have been a bit chaotic and an inconvenience to say the least, to be locked out of the platform that has been the center of my community of artists, collectors, devs, supporters and importantly friends for the past two years. I won’t go down this rabbit hole as I’m committed to exploring more of the collection here, and while I battle Twitter to get my account back, it’s given me some space to think about diversifying and the dangers of relying on one platform, or one of anything. More about that in a future post!

We left off in the previous post with some images from the 80’s and 90’s. Here’s another important photograph from that time period that I took in Paris, in front of the Gare du Nord train station. Looking back on this image brought up some interesting thoughts about my role as a photographer.

Since the evolution of the handheld camera, photographers throughout history have pointed their cameras at the most vulnerable of our society. Blind Woman by Paul Strand comes to mind. What is the value of recording these images? Is it ethical? Is it exploitative? I would argue it is important to make images of all people in our society without judgment and with care. As this man was sleeping, it certainly made it an easier decision for me as I didn’t need to ask permission. But there are some beautiful bits of information in this photograph that have earned its place in my consciousness over the years.

First, the dog. It brings me hope. I imagine the dog doesn’t judge the man. He/she seems to be looking out for him while he sleeps. On the ledge above the man are five framed photographs, one of which depicts the dog in virtually the same position. I felt my image was confirming their importance by capturing this again. Two of the pictures are of the man in this place shot from about where I was standing. My picture somehow reflected the others. This seems to be his domicile and in spite of his apparent condition, marked by the wheelchair oddly positioned next to a typical French cafe chair, he has decorated his space with some measure of pride. I imagined he was the Mayor of this section of the rue. Viewing this I feel sadness too, compassion, gratitude and respect. It’s important to me that we make these pictures and share them. I do believe when one of us suffers we all suffer. To not look at pictures like this is then to shield us from the discomfort and allow us to pretend they are not there. Let’s not make these folks invisible. I was on my way back to London at the time (note the bags on my shoulders in the reflection), but would have liked to have given him a framed copy of this to put on his mantle.

My wife and I attended conferences for a few summers on Star Island, an outcropping of rocks part of the Isle of Shoals 6 miles off the coast of New Hampshire. This small group of islands played host to the honeymoon of legendary pirate Blackbeard, and has a rich and dark history of murders and ghosts. The annual softball game is always a highlight of the week for the kids (and parents). In this image the triangulation between the small cemetery in left field, the American flag on the right, and the batter- whose bat strikes the ball at the precise moment I pressed the shutter- frames a scene of surreal Americana. For historical reference, this photograph sits in the pantheon of images of the American pastime like “Lunch Hour” by John Gutmann in San Francisco 1934 and “Sandlot Batter” by American photographer Helen Levitt in 1940.

Lastly for this chapter, we’ll look at a recent image from Bring it Home, “9th Ave NYC.” My reference for this image is 100% Garry Winogrand. One of the preeminent street photographers of the 20th century, my favorite Winogrand image asks questions hidden in the surreal play between light and shadow and the juxtaposition of elements. This photo developed a block away when I saw this plume of steam coming from the laundry room exhaust of the Fulton Senior Center on 9th Ave. One by one people walking north passed through the white plume unaware of the magic images they were creating. I peered through the viewfinder inching my way into a place that would capture this surreal scene and waited. One by one people passed as the plume did its best not to comply with my wishes. I took 3-4 frames just to warm up knowing these were not the shots and then it happened. Two men approached, faces obscured by the cloud, feet in lock step, shadows perfectly aligned. One frame. Got it.

I hope you’re enjoying these stories from the collection. Until next time!

X,

Barry

Bring it Home is live on Foundation Jan 18.