Good-bye to all that, Brooklyn.
I remember a time just before kicking my life into Kerouac mode and hitting the road and leaving the city for good where I’d spend Friday nights people watching on the Brooklyn Bridge.
On those nights, I’d wish I could see the towers of the bridge and the skyline the same way many of the tourists there were able to see it, with fresh eyes.
I’d wish I were so lucky.
On those night, I’d look to the skyline and I’d be unable to see anything other than smoke and fire.
Anytime I would walk across the Brooklyn Bridge instead of the wonder of tourists walking the famous span I would feel, once again, the panic of escaping Lower Manhattan that day, so many years ago.
On those nights, I’d want nothing more than to forget and maybe take what was around me in those moments and try to find something beautiful, make something beautiful.
Jack Kerouac once wrote, “The beauty of things must be that they end.”
During that time, so much of what I’d known of my life was coming to an end and it was, at once, beautiful and sad.
My way of coping was to take pictures with my Canon DSLR until it was time to move on and find a spot in Brooklyn where I could dance until the end of the night.
The photos taken on those nights on the Brooklyn Bridge and the surrounding area now make up a series of prints called Brooklyn Nights.
Those prints will be available for purchase in the near future.
In looking back now, it all feels like a lifetime ago. Since then I was born again in Texas.
The city, it’s energy, it’s skyline, it’s no longer in my face, day in, day out, and because of that I no longer remember what the beautiful sadness feels like. It’s only when looking at these photos that I have a sense of it and that at the core of this sense I see the love I’ll always have for an area that is the foundation of what will always be known as home.
March 26, 2018