My best friend is Veronica Davies (#shoutout @veronicahope03). She lives in Boston and as a Christmas tradition I visit her over the festive season. She mentioned that she had a surprise in store for me, however I wasn’t quite aware of to what extent of a surprise this would actually be. New York City. 48 hours in New York City. The city that I had always dreamed of as a boy, the place where I always wanted to live. I got to go.
Driving into the city I was directly amazed by the height and size of everything. I have spent my entire life in Europe. In Europe we don’t get ridiculously sized 100 storey buildings. Whereas in NYC one is surrounded by them, 100 storey buildings, 100 feet billboards, 100 million LEDs which light the city up like daylight and 100 inspirations shooting through my head.
It was street photography cocaine to me. Well I presume something like that, maybe more like Speed or MDMA (I’m not quite sure). I starting genuinely running around Times Square, chasing after interesting personalities, getting every possible chance to capture them. Poor Veronica was chasing after me, like I was chasing after them.
We spent a total of 4 hours at Times Square, going on lap after lap of one of the biggest tourist attractions worldwide. It had lost it’s initial impact, the exhilaration and amazement which I felt the first time when staring up at continuous walls of billboard. Yet, I couldn’t stop, people were taking selfies, smiling, laughing, shouting, getting annoyed in this hotspot of emotion, bewonderment and cultural clash; and I wanted to be there as long as possible to capture every moment of it.
Once I had come back down from street photography heaven we headed to our Airbnb. Located centrally in Chinatown, it boasted my exact aesthetic liking with minimalist black and white interior; a tree and small details. The location was great, truly interesting with 2 Starbucks within 1 mile fuelling my caffeine addiction beautifully.
Park Av by Columbus Circle, an elderly woman; clearly wealthy in a wheelchair was being pushed by another woman. They start heading to a food truck, and I see the owner’s eyes sparkle as he comes running out of the truck. They hug each other, smile and the woman frantically gets bombarded with questions. “When were you released? Are you OK? Why were you in there?” The elderly woman simply said, “You’ll still have me around for a while, don’t you worry.”
It was a scene of true, genuine affection for one another. A relationship probably built over years; surpassing prejudice, wealth or status and reduced to genuine liking of each other.
I am writing this at 23:30 sitting in the bus, driving back to Boston, editing photos, writing up a blog post in which I attempt to explain and understand my thoughts about this place; while simultaneously brainstorming places to intern or assist at to get my very own shot at New York City.