“I succumbed to the city’s gravitational pull,” says photographer Steven Siegel about the inexplicable attraction New York City had on him. A former long term resident of the city but an even longer term photographer of the Big Apple, his images of the city over the last four decades are like a time capsules. He tells us why the city has transformed so much in these years and what the biggest draw is for him to continue photographing it so often.
When I think back on my fondness for all things 70s and 80s, I realize a lot of it comes from the movies I saw in my childhood. A number of these films were shot in or featured the city of New York from the same eras. The inimitable buzz of the city, its architecture, and the lives of its residents all won my heart with every new film I saw back then. I still wish I could have lived there for a few years of my youth. While a trip to the city eight years ago quenched a bit of my thirst for it, I still long to go back. The analog images Steven Siegel took over so many years show that the city has dramatically changed since then.
The Essential Photo Gear Used By Steven Siegel
Steven told us:
To this day, I continue to use film. (Of course, I use digital as well). There is no particularly rational reason to continue to use film these days. It’s expensive and time-consuming. But I consider it a badge of honor. I refuse to give it up! There are people who argue that the “look” of film – the graininess, the contrast – is why they continue to use film. But in any particular image, the look of film is either pronounced or virtually invisible — depending on such factors as lighting, contrast, exposure levels, degree of magnification of the image, etc. Furthermore, the film look can even be simulated on a purely digital image. So the look of film is not really a wholly rational reason to continue to work in film.
The Phoblographer: Hi Steven. Please tell us about yourself and how you got into photography.
Steven Siegel: Photography for me, is much more than the act of “taking pictures.” I use photography as a way of literally opening my eyes to the surrounding world… and that particular perspective carries over even when I’m not photographing. So often, we either live in the future or live in the past. That is to say, we’re either worrying about what comes next, or we’re reliving trivial moments out of the past. Consequently, we’re blind to what’s happening around us.
The act of photographing forces you to live in the present and concentrate on “the here and now,” a very good thing in and of itself. Others achieve this through meditation and religion. Photography is a way of achieving this state of mind and being creative at the same time – a great “two-fer.”
The Phoblographer: What was the primary draw (photographically) from the 80s up until today. What subjects did find yourself training your camera on most?
Steven Siegel: I’ve been photographing New York City my entire life. I never get tired of it. I am drawn to photographing New York for its unparalleled street photography and for its distinctive landmarks. Here are a few thoughts about both of these considerations:
a. Street Photography
I am, first and foremost, a street photographer. And the opportunities for street photography in New York are limitless. The New York street is a bubbling cauldron of potential images for anyone with a camera. The New York street is a meeting place; it is a theatrical stage; it is a forum for political protest; it is a marketplace; it is a social laboratory; it is an emergency room; it is home. I think that it is no exaggeration to say that New York street is the epicenter of random interpersonal human contact among diverse population groups in the United States … and maybe even the world.
A compelling New York street photograph often contains a seemingly spontaneous yet rigorous combination of static and kinetic elements that, of course, will never again precisely recur. At its best, New York street photography is an odd mélange of the familiar and the bizarre, of sunshine and shadow, of the prosaic and the painterly. And because of New York’s unique heterogeneity, New York street photography is a particularly rich source of social commentary.
The New York street’s cauldron of potential images enables the photographer to choose among the street “metaphors” of human diversity and tolerance (on the one hand) or fear, alienation, and despair (on the other hand). For the photographer, the choice of metaphor is often a matter of waiting a few extra seconds. Or the metaphors may be presented side-by-side, a composition for which the New York street is particularly well-suited. I have no single approach to taking a “street” photograph. If any form of picture-making defies rigid rules, it is this one. But most often, I will begin by selecting a static detail as a basic visual building block — a wall, a sign, a discarded object — and wait for interesting dynamic elements to appear. In this context, more than any other, the photographer’s art derives almost entirely from the selection of the moment in which to trip the shutter. But that’s no small thing; on New York streets, this margin of discretion is enormous.
Another form of street photography is the street portrait. The street portrait lies at the intersection of the two great genres of photography: the fine art image and the documentary image. As for the former: there is the art and craft of the photographer engaging the subject. As for the latter: there is the wider world of the street and the city that threatens to undermine, at any moment, the delicate interaction between photographer and subject. It is the tension between these two forces that defines the street portrait. The best street portraits thrive on this tension.
A great street portrait often combines disparate foreground and background elements. The foreground is usually the human subject. The background is the subject’s world. The background often enriches our understanding of the subject or, in the alternative, stands as a stark reminder of the alienation of the subject from her or his world.
Street portrait photography usually entails some engagement between the photographer and the subject. The proof of the engagement is often the subject’s eye contact with the photographer (and, ultimately, the viewer). As a general rule (but with some exceptions), I would classify the image as a conventional street photograph rather than as a street portrait if there is no tell-tale eye contact.
b. New York landmarks and neighborhoods
New York landmarks and neighborhoods are among the most recognized and photographed places on earth. So why photograph them? How can one produce a striking and original photograph of these locations? Here are my thoughts.
1. The Statue of Liberty
No one in the United States is against what the Statue of Liberty stands for. But what does it stand for? The poem inscribed on the Statue — Emma Lazarus’ “The New Colossus” — suggests that the Statue stands for America as a beacon for those who are fleeing persecution, poverty, and misery. Although that conception of America has now been rejected by a substantial portion of the American population, the image of the Statue nevertheless retains that potent meaning. It is a meaning and a conception that may make large numbers of Americans uncomfortable. That is the secret of the potency of the Statute as a visual metaphor.
The image of the Statue will never be a cliché — no matter how familiar and ubiquitous it is in our culture. In fact, the image of the Statue, if anything, has grown more radical and subversive over time. For a photographer, the potency of the Statue’s image is also a beacon of sorts. How does a photographer tap into that potency? The simplest way is just to photograph people – including people from the Middle East, Asia, and Africa — who are visiting Liberty Island, who are very glad to be there, and whose happiness is seemingly made possible by the looming Statue in the background.
Another way for a photographer to invoke the potency of the Statue’s image is to photograph the Statue from different vantage points around New York harbor that are unfamiliar to most people. These vantage points include the Brooklyn waterfront, the New Jersey Meadowlands, and working-class communities in Bayonne and Jersey City. For example, the Statute viewed against a decaying factory imparts meaning and irony to a subject that otherwise would be merely depressing. Or the Statue viewed against a working-class residential neighborhood may carry the suggestion that the American Dream is — after all — alive and well.
The photographer is confronted with an abundance of potential visual metaphors fueled by the power of the image of the Statue. Most other visual metaphors are lost through overuse. I suspect that this one never will be lost.
2. Times Square
Thirty years ago, Times Square was “the deuce” – a maelstrom of sleaze, honky tonk, and the profoundly weird. In the mid-1990s, a massive redevelopment project changed everything. A key player was the Walt Disney Company. Disney is generally credited with making the initial investment that made Times Square “safe” for other corporate sponsors to commit to the redevelopment project. It is still difficult to fully grasp the irony that Mickey Mouse and Snow White deserve much of the credit for “cleaning up” the dark underside of Times Square. It’s as if Mary Poppins triumphed over Travis Bickle — as depicted in a fantasy action movie playing on West 42nd Street.
Today Times Square is unquestionably a safer and more pleasant place than it was a generation ago. But many say that contemporary Times Square has all of the character and authenticity of a suburban shopping mall. There is some truth to this.
But Times Square is so much more than the overpriced retail chain stores that compete for tourist dollars. For one thing, Times Square is the heart of the Broadway theater district — a creative enterprise the likes of which definitely cannot be found in the Mall of America. For another, the sidewalks of Times Square are among the busiest in the city. And it is the people congregating on those sidewalks that give Times Square the right to its lofty claim to being the “crossroads of the world.”
This fact has particular significance for street photographers. After all, the art of street photography is based on chance interactions among people. The density and heterogeneity of the masses of people in Time Square maximize those chance interactions. They provide street photographers a canvas and a set of subjects that are unrivaled.
Then too, Times Square’s electronic signage offers a variety of ever-changing photographic backdrops. Of course, a photographer could photoshop in these backdrops. But the backdrops afforded by the Times Square electronic signs derive their meaning and power precisely because they are “real.”
And finally, there is the ubiquity of photography itself in Times Square. To the extent that a street photographer under ordinary circumstances must exercise care in photographing a person without their consent in a public place, that particular ethical and practical consideration is at a low ebb in Times Square. There is no reasonable expectation of privacy in Times Square because everyone is photographing everyone and everything. It is a giant fish bowl turned inside out. Perhaps as much as any other factor, that is why Times Square is an extraordinary location for street photographers.
3. Coney Island
In popular culture in the US and around the world, the name “Coney Island” is almost as well-known as a New York icon as “Broadway” or “Times Square.” However, to a considerable extent, the renown of Coney Island may stem from its glory days in the early twentieth century. At that time, Coney Island was synonymous with an escape from the ordinary and a place to forget one’s troubles. One hundred years ago, the worldwide fame of Coney Island as an amusement resort could be roughly compared to the worldwide fame of Disney World today.
But Coney Island never was and never will be a corporate theme park. Instead, it was and is primarily an amusement park for New York’s poor and the working class. It is the only beach resort reachable by subway – in New York and in North America.
The subway pervades Coney Island in more ways than one. It is not only the primary means of transportation for most of Coney Island’s visitors. The sight and sound of the elevated subway just across the street from the various amusement parks almost suggest that the subway itself is just another amusement park ride.
Like Times Square, Coney Island has had a long and checkered history. And like Times Square, Coney Island may have reached rock bottom in the 1980s. Today, Coney Island’s partial revival tracks against the cultural ascendency of its home borough, Brooklyn.
The influence of Brooklyn’s new breed of hipsters can be seen in the annual Mermaid Parade on Surf Avenue. This event encapsulates Coney Island at its best – multicultural, exuberant, and flamboyant. Hopefully, that unique combination represents Coney Island’s future – as well as embodies the evolving meaning of the name “Coney Island” in the language and in popular culture.
4. New York’s subways
By its very nature, the New York subway will never be a fear-free zone. For many people, the inherent claustrophobia of a subway car packed with people establishes a baseline of fear. And the inability to control whom you travel with each time the subway car doors open is enough to alienate some people from ever stepping foot in the subway. Keep in mind that 95 percent of Americans who live outside of New York travel exclusively by private car. That means they are able to control their own personal space while traveling. Virtually the only time these Americans are forced to share their personal space in a contained environment is when they ride an elevator. That is how most Americans live.
In any event, for the same reason that the New York subway will never be a fear-free zone, the New York subway is the source of what makes New York distinctive and vital, and great. The intense and arbitrary mixing of people is the very essence of what a city is … and how a city differs so drastically from other less populated places. And the New York subway is probably the most intense mixer of heterogeneous groups of people — by race, ethnicity, and income — in North America … and quite possibly the world. How one responds to this reality — as a matter of general political outlook and also on a visceral and emotional level — will determine one’s comfort level with the subway.
5. The World Trade Center (1974-2001)
The shock of 9/11 has long since receded. But photos of the pre-9/11 World Trade Center still tap into that visceral sense of shock. Underneath that raw emotion lies many others – including a sense of nostalgia, a sense of vulnerability, and a sense that nothing – no matter how solid and imposing – is actually permanent.
But what of the visual power of the Twin Towers – considered apart from its tragic fate? At the time that I was photographing these structures in the 1980s and 90s, my sense was that their visual power derived in part from their utter simplicity of form, their sheer size, and the mirror-image quality of the two towers. I also sensed that the visual power of the Twin Towers was contextual. Manhattan’s downtown skyline is surrounded by broad expanses of water on three sides. The World Trade Center was necessarily the biggest palm tree in the desert mirage, the most beguiling structure in the Emerald City, and a lighthouse towering above its watery surroundings.
In my photography throughout the 1980s and 90s, I tried to tap into this “contextual” power. Most of my photos of the World Trade Center include, as foreground subjects, waterways, roads, bridges, highways, factories, train lines, office buildings, apartments, modest homes, mansions, and so on. It is the World Trade Center, in context, that never ceased to interest me and to enthrall me as a photographer.
If all this were not enough, the World Trade Center possessed one other visual feature that was especially noteworthy: the buildings’ ability to reflect the light of the setting sun on an unparalleled scale. Over the years, I tracked down a few choice locations of the New Jersey Meadowlands in which it was possible, at sunset, to view the Twin Towers bathed in intense amber light. This extraordinary sight persisted for only a few minutes and, on particular days, was not present at all because of clouds or smog. Getting to the right location at the proper time under optimal atmospheric conditions was not unlike tracking the narrow path of a solar eclipse. The act of photography was a moment of exhilaration, and the resulting photograph is a record of it.
The tragedy of 9/11 hit me hard, but — fortunately — not in a direct or personal way involving family or friends. Like everyone else, I experienced a general sense of loss. In addition, I also — as a photographer — experienced a peculiar sense of loss that derived from the loss of a favorite photographic subject. Of course, this was a minor loss in the general scheme of things, but it was — nevertheless — quite tangible. I am hopeful that these photos convey a sense of that peculiar loss.
The Phoblographer: What are your reflections on your photos of New York from the 1980s?
Steven Siegel: When young people today look at my shots from the 1980s, they are aghast. To them, New York of the 1980s is almost unrecognizable. And they are right.
Among those who lived in New York in the late twentieth century, the reactions to my photos vary widely. Some people remain nostalgic for New York’s “good old days.” For example, they remember the Times Square of the 1980s and what they remember is not so much the danger but the grittiness and the authenticity. Yes, there was sleaze, but there were also video arcades, cheap movies, restaurants, and weird places. These same people resent the “Disney-ification” of Times Square and the gentrification of virtually all of Manhattan and many areas of the boroughs, and the loss of cheap housing and local stores everywhere.
Others’ reactions to these same photos could not be more different. They remember the high crime, the twin crises of AIDS and crack, the racial tension, and the lurid tabloid headlines about the latest street crime. They say: It was a nightmare, and thank God that the worst of these conditions appear to have receded. Of course, both views are right.
The Phoblographer: There’s an inexplicable attraction for me, as a photographer, to return to NY and photograph it. as someone who’s lived there for so many years, what keeps you going?
Steven Siegel: I do not currently live in New York. I live in suburban New Jersey. I also grew up in suburban New Jersey. However, I lived in New York for over twenty years, beginning with my college years.
My background and upbringing give me a kind of split perspective of both a native and an outsider. In my teenage years, the city was a beacon and a magnet. I succumbed to the city’s gravitational pull and moved to the city, and became a part of it. Then after two decades, I moved away – all the while continuing to explore it with my camera.
After college, I earned a graduate degree in urban planning. For a number of years, I was involved in city planning and urban policy issues. In turn, my academic and professional background deepened my interest and fascination with the city. Although understanding the social, economic, and political factors that underlay life in New York is certainly necessary to better understand it, there can be no substitute for just getting out on the street – and seeing first-hand the extraordinary complexity and density of New York’s patterns of urban living. For me, this has been a lifelong process – and photography has been intrinsic to the process.
The Phoblographer: What are some of the craziest sights you’ve photographed there? Scenes that you probably wouldn’t have seen anywhere else in the world.
Steven Siegel: One of my favorite annual events in New York is the phenomenon of Halloween in the subway. What exactly is “Halloween in the subway”? It is just that. For a few fleeting hours on the night of October 31, New York’s subways are overrun with people in Halloween costumes.
The effect is of a waking dreamland. And not just any waking dreamland. On Halloween night, the subways are transformed into some passengers’ fevered dreams of their own subway fears.
For many people, fear and the subways are inextricably linked. After all, the anxieties of close urban living take their most tangible form in the subway. There is no other place where one is required to so completely surrender control over one’s personal space. We all fear the loss of control. We all sometimes fear the company of strangers. We all sometimes fear being trapped in a confined space. These are fears that go to the very core of our being. For many, the subway environment represents a highly efficient way to deliver a powerful dose of these elemental phobias on a daily basis.
Meanwhile, in recent years Halloween has become an enormous social, cultural, and commercial phenomenon devoted to the celebration of fear. In New York and other large cities, Halloween night has become a time to celebrate the anxieties of urban living. And what better place to celebrate these anxieties than in the subway?
And so Halloween in the subway seems almost inevitable. It is the convergence of many social and cultural trends — as applied to a place that, for many, is the wellspring of phobias far more compelling and immediate than a Stephen King novel.
And yet: How did Halloween in the subway actually come about? The apparent answer is – spontaneously and organically. No one person or organization planned this. Certainly, the Village Halloween Parade contributes greatly to the phenomenon. But it would also appear that many costumed people in the subway are traveling to private parties. In truth, Halloween in the subway has come about because most New Yorkers travel in the subway, and on October 31, many New Yorkers happen to be in costume. That is what I mean when I say the phenomenon is “organic.”
Because Halloween in the Subway is an organic phenomenon, any attempt to classify it or limit it will fail. It is not strictly a public performance. It is not strictly a parade. It is not strictly a party on wheels. Or maybe it is all of these things … but only if you want it to be. The interior of each subway car is a public theater of vivid spectacle … for those who choose to see it. But many people turn away and turn inward — as subway riders are disposed to do. It is the subway, after all. In the end, Halloween in the Subway remains true to the subway itself.
Step into a subway car on October 31, and you will see superheroes and flesh-eating zombies, princesses, both traditional and transgendered, people dressed as insects and exotic plants, and people who appear as entities known only to them. And you will see people who may or may not be homeless but who are dressed as if they were homeless — sitting next to homeless people (or is it the other way around?). And you will see many people who are in — but not of — the moment.
This is New York. And it is the city at its best — spontaneous, ephemeral, impossibly heterogeneous yet remarkably tolerant — and with most everyone taking it more or less in stride.
All images by Steven Siegel, used with permission. Check out his website and his Flickr page to see more of these images of New York.
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