Many of you have been in contact with me about a recent photo series I created.
I don’t speak often about what my images mean to me. Or, my intentions behind my images. I tend to share an image with a short caption and no context. And when people get upset about what they see in certain very personal images, I feel unheard —and my instinct is almost always to respond with a variation of “Fuck You” which, makes me feel better in the short term.
But a “Fuck You” does not give... any more context. And, it’s not really what I want to say. But it is easier than trying to put this into words.
For those of you who want the context, here is what some of my most personal images mean to me.
Since I discovered photography, it gave me a way to tell a story I don’t know how to put into words. And over my career I keep coming back to telling variations of the same story. A story of the 1970s. In New York City. Of my own childhood.
In my mind, and in my intent, the images are not depictions of 2018 or the decade at all. In the 70s, this is how I looked. This is how many of us looked. My intent was not to offend. I’ve not said that clearly in public. But my images — especially the ones I create on the streets of New York — come from my own story of my own childhood. One that I’ve only spoken of through photos.
We all see the world through our own eyes and life experiences. Because so many people found my images offensive which was never the goal, I am removing some of them. I do stand by what I create in it's intent. Perhaps I failed to give context and some people need more.
The photos in this post come from a Facebook group I treasure called Dirty New York. I LONG for those days. Maybe things would be different if it had been different, but they weren't. These are the images of my childhood. And these are the stories I have been coming to terms with sharing.