REVISITED - Mindfulness in Manhattan: A Walk to Change Perspective

With this resurgence of the Civil Rights Movement, our family has begun talking even more than before about disparities and the existence of racism within our own professions - teaching and photography. So, Dad suggested that I revisit this blog post, which was really the catalyst for what will be a lifetime of examining and taking down racism within my own mind and actions, and within my professional community.

I’ve read this piece a few times now and am struck by how pertinent each question I asked is to my process today, not just while photographing, but also while beginning to engage (for the first time) in political discourse and protest actions. Undoubtedly, this walk and my examination of it have helped me immensely in reframing my attitude towards privilege, bias, action and reform.

Mindfulness in Manhattan: A Walk to Change Perspective

“At what point do I then stop enjoying my life for its own sake and start doing things just for attention?”

Traveling, in particular, has time and again led me to that question. Did I order that steak tartare in France just for the ‘gram or do I actually want to eat it? (Tartare makes for terrible photos but is, in fact, delicious. Next question, please.) Did I rent a car and drive through Northern Spain for a good story? (Yes, but if the primary aim was to swap amusing stories with my well-traveled grandparents then no harm done.) Did I stay up till 3am sharing my blog posts to my Instagram story while in Ireland with my family rather than resting up to enjoy another full day? (Yes, and boy could I have used that sleep.)

When Dad and I went to Manhattan for a day in July, spending our afternoon walking the 160 blocks from Penn Station to the Cloisters, I was able to take that question one step further: even in a public sphere, when is it time to put the camera away not only to be more present myself, but to allow my prospective subjects to maintain their privacy?

Travel Albums: Manhattan, NY Vacation Photos

For a decade or so, every year for Christmas I gave my dad a scrapbook of that cross country season’s shenanigans. When he retired from coaching, I worried that I’d have to find a new Christmas project, but realized I could do almost the same thing, just with our travels instead! I had to wait until March this year to give him his present since we had to postpone our annual trip until February, but I’ve always been the master of spreading out holidays.

Spain Day 3: New Horizons

To me, the idea wasn’t complete without a little “danger” so my plan was to throw off my dress as I was running towards the water and sprint in just in my underwear. Mind you, the water was probably only 50 degrees and there were still people walking at either end of the beach as well as along the boardwalk. But it was dark, I didn’t know anyone else there, and I was ready to practice being bold. So, I took a deep breath, tossed my dress to Erin and dove under the waves. I came up breathless, shocked from the cold even though I knew it was coming. I ran back in, ready to get warm. But somehow, I still wasn’t satisfied. I hadn’t fully reveled in the feelings of discomfort and uncertainty. So, I ran back in and this time held my breath under water for a few seconds, coming up to stand in the waist deep waves while I gazed into the vast, dark expanse.

Spain Day 2: The Road to San Sebastian

Over the last year or so that I’ve dedicated my film practice to improving my street photography, I’ve had to work a lot on my shyness. Sometimes, I’ll see the perfect shot yet will be too nervous of what this stranger will think of me capturing the moment: will they be uncomfortable with the invasion of privacy, will they get mad, will they say something to me? No one has ever actually approached me so, as of yet, these fears are unfounded. In fact, one of my very favorite photographic moments from the day came about as we walked through the quiet, cobbled streets of Parte Vieja (Old Town.) At the other end of the alley we were walking through, I saw a group of men congregating, which always immediately sets me on my guard. However, when we got close and they saw my camera, they grinned and made a clicking motion while pointing to themselves. They must have heard us speaking English because they didn’t try to make conversation, yet “can you take our photo?” seems to be universally understood. Looking back, I wish I’d taken even more photos of them, perhaps a close-up portrait of each, but I’m still happy with the experience which will hopefully embolden me further.

Santander, Spain Day 1: Going with the Flow

We didn’t plan too much for this trip. We knew we wanted to have one day to just bum around Santander, one day to see the sunrise and enjoy a beach picnic, and one day trip to somewhere else close by. As it was pouring rain on our first morning there, we decided to take the cue from the weather and enjoy a quiet first day. In planning, Erin was in charge of the activities and I the restaurants, particularly as I spoke the better Spanish of the two of us. When I ordered our breakfast, I hadn’t quite plucked up the courage to engage in a full on Spanish conversation, so I was feeling a little embarrassed about my speaking skills as we waited for our food. But just at that moment, a small, scarf-clad and white haired woman walked by our table, said something to us conspiratorially, winked, and walked out the door. After that, I knew that the act of at least trying to speak the language might make up for my errors.

Vacation Photography: Dad's Ireland Photo Album

Since somewhere around 2005, I made my dad a scrapbook of that cross country season every year for Christmas. Every single year, my mom would collect all of the newspaper clippings (because that was a thing) and I’d collect photos from teammates so that by the end of each season, I could put everything together to highlight that year’s triumphs and shenanigans. As you can see, I’ve always been all about curating memories into storytelling albums.