BROOKLYN WATERFRONT IMAGES
By
I rediscovered photography in early spring of 2000. For absolutely no apparent reason, I picked up an old point and shoot and made my way over to the waterfront. Whether the chosen art form is dance, writing or the visual arts; the old adage is to work from a place that is familiar and personally important. For me that place is the waterfront. I am a Brooklyn native that grew up, and still leaves near the water. For a brief period of time, I lived and worked in the Mediterranean and again, found myself near the water.
With the thrill I felt in crawling around some traditionally taboo and less than savory places near the shoreline, I stumbled upon the Gowanus Canal. The Canal has for decades been one of those places that no human of good intent would ever find themselves. Aside from public perception of right and wrong, the stench that rose from the seemingly solid water was nothing short of unearthly and simply drove people away from it. Many of the pollutants have been removed from the canal, and there are several proposals on the table concerning the future of this historically rich tidal estuary. The original village of Brooklyn and the surrounding lands played a major part in the how the Revolutionary War was staged, and in how Brooklyn was formed and became the highly populated peninsula that it has grown to be. Sadly, the dawn of the trucking industry has done much to obscure the waterfront’s riches as an important portion of the peninsula has been discarded and built over.
Photographing the Gowanus lead me to an idea for a book, and writing the book encouraged the taking of more and more photographs. Without a doubt, sepia is a favorite way for me to present this body of work. These warm tones tend to lend timelessness to the images. The dawn of the trucking industry shifted attention from water to roadways. Until recently, much of this waterfront sat untouched, in ruins. In its stillness, I have discovered a beauty and strength in this silence.
Much the same is true of D.U.M.B.O. While growing up in Brooklyn Heights, The place now known, as D.U.M.B.O was the place I was told as a child NEVER to go down to. The place was dark, inhabited only by rats and until only fairly recently had that unmistakable sent of dampness and old rotting buildings. Empire Fulton Ferry State Park is the new name of the old property referred to as the Tobacco Warehouse. Needless to say, this early 19th centaury structure was in danger of loosing its life as sentinel on the banks of the East River. A stay of execution was implemented and God knows what it will be turned into.
Until the waterways are turned into whatever who wins sees fit, I will continue to record what remains as much as time permits.
ENJOY!