Sunday morning, cold, rainy, cozy. Sitting in a coffee shop, Peace & Love, on Greenwich and N. Moore in Tribeca, 9:06 am. I went walking through Chinatown and over to the lower east side yesterday. I absolutely love the lower east side, there’s some adorable shops, good bars, restaurants. The shops are more like boutiques that carry the best and most expensive indie designers, it’s a bit like Silverlake in LA. The brownstones and buildings over there all need a good scrubbing, but the detail on each and everyone of them is brilliant and the silt that rests on them seems to accentuate the outstanding masonry. A little hipster, but not nausiatingly so, it’s got an artists flare, and although there’s tons and tons of graffiti on every building, it works, it wouldn’t work without it.
A really dear family friend had asked me to capture some sadness in New York, not just happiness. So i have been opening my eyes, removing my rose colored lenses, and trying to get into the melancholy of the city. It’s hard for me, I usually see the beauty in the sadness.
Although, the picture below, illustrates to me, sadness totally void of beauty. I mean, talk about landing on some fucking hard times, face on concrete, legs twisted, 2pm on a Saturday. At least he still had his hat.
On the opposite side of the happy/sad spectrum, I also captured this butcher in Chinatown who was just smiling and exuding good energy, and he cuts up dead animals for a living. It’s just who you are, you’re either searching for the good and happy, or you’re focusing on the shit and then you end up face down on some random steps in the lower east side.
The other images just make me happy.

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