Art Deco Toronto 2

170 Strathearn Road, Toronto, Dec. 2020

THE PANDEMIC HAS KEPT US LOCKED DOWN FOR LONGER THAN EXPECTED. Canada – and Ontario in particular – has set a worldwide trend for length and severity of lockdown (an achievement of dubious distinction.) The end is in sight, however, which will hopefully mean more new work to talk about. In the meantime, here’s more of one of my lockdown projects, the first installment of which I posted late last year.

Once again I have to acknowledge the work Tim Morawetz has done documenting Art Deco architecture both in my hometown and across the country. (Please pick up his book Art Deco Architecture Across Canada or look for Art Deco Architecture in Toronto: A guide to the buildings from the Roaring Twenties and the Depression in your library.) I had a lot to choose from when putting this post together. Toronto is not the most spectacular city for Deco or Streamline Moderne buildings in the world; it was/is a very conservative town, perhaps less so socially and politically, but still very much culturally and aesthetically. There are far more office towers and public buildings in the style than residences, but there are enough for a single post devoted to Deco dwellings.

There are no districts full of Deco homes and apartment buildings in Toronto, just pockets – a few streets where developers decided it was a style that might appeal to prospective residents, who would respond to its futuristic message of efficiency and modernity. To find them you need to wander through Midtown and areas that were being developed/redeveloped between the wars. You’ll know you’re warm when you come across buildings with names that evoke luxury, high society, or more glamourous climates.

The Fleetwood, 64 St. Clair Ave. W., June 2020
Maplewood Apartments, 172 Vaughan Rd. Toronto, Dec. 2020
The Crofton, 717 Eglinton Ave. W., Toronto, June 2020
The Everglades, 110 Tyndall Ave., Toronto, June 2021

Toronto is a city of Victorian red brick, but yellow brick became the material of choice for Deco and early Midcentury Modern apartments. In Toronto Deco announces itself with bands of brickwork underneath or running parallel with windows that are often set into the corners of buildings.

Roycroft Apartments, 707 Eglinton Ave. W., June 2020
Apartment detail, Bathurst St., Toronto, June 2020
790 Eglinton Ave. West, Toronto June 2020
Apartment detail, Bathurst St., Toronto, June 2020

As ever, look out for curves – in balconies and awnings and deep turrets. The curve was Deco’s shape of choice – evocative of machines and streamlined ships and railway engines, but a testament to the skills of bricklayers who will charge a premium for a curved wall today, if they’ll even be able to rise to the challenge.

The Crofton, 717 Eglinton Ave. W., Toronto, June 2020
790 Eglinton Ave. West, Toronto June 2020
Apartment entrances, Avenue Road, Toronto June 2020
2559 Bloor St. West, Toronto, July 2020

Finally there’s the octagonal window – usually set into a bathroom or a hallway in the efficiency apartments that are usually contained within most Deco apartment buildings in this city. The octagon is rational and symmetrical while breaking up the right angles of a building – and another shape that challenges the unskilled craftsman.

Du Maurier Apartments, Du Maurier Blvd., Toronto, June 2020
Apartment detail, Eglinton Ave. W., Dec. 2020

Deco in Toronto features many variations, from sedate facades full of classical devices from the early ’20s to courtyards with porthole windows in places like The Dorchester, a Moderne luxury building from 1940. The nearby Mayfair apartment complex is full of sinuous stone details that call back to Art Nouveau, while a pair of apartment buildings in Parkdale present themselves like twin engine houses with porthole windows.

779 Eglinton Ave. West, June 2020
The Dorchester, 150 Farnham Ave., Dec. 2020
Mayfair apartments, 394-398 Avenue Road, Dec. 2020
115 Eglinton Ave. West, Toronto, Dec. 2020
Apartment buildings, Spencer Avenue, Parkdale, Toronto, June 2021

The most perfect Art Deco apartments in the city, however, are in the Garden Court complex on Bayview, with their landscaped courtyards and corner windows and flats that become more modest the further you get from the entrance to the grounds. During the worst summer months of the pandemic the residents were especially vigilant about outsiders in their courtyards, even if they were just appreciative photographers.

Garden Court Apartments, 1477 Bayview Ave., Toronto, June 2020

There are not a lot of private homes in the Deco, Streamline or Moderne style in Toronto. I can count the ones I know on one hand, though there might be a dozen hiding on side streets all over the city. Some are restrained and unassuming, with just a flat roof, a curved wall and an octagonal window; my wife calls this “Methodist Deco.” Others just feature a Deco detail or two, in custom stonework over a door or around a chimney. Rarest of all is a house like 170 Strathearn, with portholes and octagons, a flat roof, curved balconies and decorative stainless steel railings, finished in gleaming white stucco that looks more suitable to Miami or Melbourne than Midtown Toronto.

1707 Bathurst Street, Toronto June 2020
24 College View Ave., Toronto, June 2020
170 Strathearn Road, Toronto, Dec. 2020
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Art Deco Toronto

Concourse Building, Toronto, July 2020

THE PANDEMIC HAS MADE ME THINK MORE ABOUT MY HOMETOWN THAN I HAVE IN YEARS. Toronto is not a pretty town; I’ve said before that growing up here has made me really look for worthwhile subjects, and probably nudged (deformed?) my particular aesthetic toward the pursuit of “ugly beauty.” One thing I can say with certainty, however, is that the closest this city got to lovely was probably in the waning years of the 1940s, before the tidal wave of postwar demolition and subsequent skyscraper construction began, and just after the high tide of Art Deco and Streamline Moderne architecture had receded, leaving choice deposits on the streetscape.

The story of Art Deco Toronto has pretty much been captured by writer and Deco enthusiast Tim Morawetz, and his lavisly illustrated books Art Deco Architecture Across Canada and especially Art Deco Architecture in Toronto: A guide to the buildings from the Roaring Twenties and the Depression (sadly out of print, but available though the Toronto Public Library) have been priceless guides in my own hunt for the remains of the Deco/Moderne city that has caught my eye since I was a boy. I’ve wanted to try to document this place – the Toronto of my fantasies – for years, but travel bans and forced idleness were ultimately the inspiration I needed. This is just the first in a series of posts I’ll be putting up as I take more photos and organize the results into (somewhat) coherent essays on the architecture, the city where it was built, and the fleeting vision it provides – for me, at least – of a much more elegant place to live.

Horse Palace, CNE, July 2020
Roycroft Apartments, 707 Eglinton Ave. W., June 2020
2487 Bloor St. W., July 2020
2780 Yonge St., Sept. 2020
Church of the Blessed Sacrament, Sept. 2020

I’m not an architectural photographer, so pristine, perspective-corrected documents of whole buildings aren’t really in my wheelhouse. What I wanted to capture, however, were the street-level flashes of Deco style that inevitably catch my eye wherever I wander, either here or in towns and cities with their own (sometimes far superior) examples of Deco and Streamline architecture. Because Art Deco left vivid traces wherever it found favour, from the bands of bricks wrapping around the corners of apartment buildings to the pyramidical massing on skyscrapers and public buildings, to the ziggurat shapes – upright and inverted – that show up on shopfronts and unlikely places, like the copper lamps by the entrance to a Roman Catholic church in uptown Toronto.

Fleetwood Apartments, 64 St. Clair Ave. W., June 2020
Park Lane Apartments, 110 St. Clair Ave. W., June 2020
Anne Johnston Health Station (formerly Police Station #12), 2398 Yonge St., Sept. 2020
Roycroft Apartments, 707 Eglinton Ave. W., June 2020

The greatest motif of Streamline Moderne is the curve – a shape that was understood at the time to be the sign of modernity, evocative of aerodynamic design and ever-increasing speed, borrowed from ocean liners and automobiles and used to shape balconies, eaves and overhangs on much more static apartment buildings and police stations. The sight of one curved balcony alerts me to the likely presence of an Art Deco district – a neighbourhood of developments from the mid-20s to the late-30s, likely to share the same vernacular style up and down a few adjacent streets.

Toronto isn’t a city of Deco masterpieces – that title probably goes to Montreal here in Canada, and places like New York, Shanghai, Paris, Mumbai, Melbourne and Miami. We do (or too often, did) have some little gems, like the old Stock Exchange building on Bay Street south of King. It became the home of the Design Exchange a few years ago, is currently reconsidering its direction after closing its design museum, and was shrouded in scaffolding this summer. So I was only able to get close to its doors with my camera, with their sequence of stainless steel medallions depicting industry and trade in high-Deco stylization, all heroic workers, technicians and capitalists thrusting forward into a better future.

These motifs are a recurring theme on Deco and Streamline office towers and public buildings. In Canada they often depict workers in the resource sector – miners and lumberjacks, surveyors, floatplane pilots and fishermen. A set of carved stone panels can be found at Queen Street subway station – they were installed when the People’s Optical Building was demolished to make way for the Maritime Life Tower, and these panels were installed in a new stairwell. I’m not sure if they’re from the People’s Optical building – of which no photographic trace exists, apparently – or a Maritime Life building, but they’re a pretty great example of Deco/Moderne decorative style, Canadian division. (UPDATE – they are, in fact, from the exterior of the People’s Optical Building, and there are photos.)

Another fine example of Canadian Deco style are the stylized totem poles at the entrance to the Runnymede Public Library building. Doorways are actually great indicators of a Deco district, though sometimes they’re the only obviously Deco/Moderne element on a more basic, humble building. I make a point of trying to capture them wherever I am, from the Hollywood glamorous entrance to an apartment building by the Humber River to a utilitarian service entrance on the side of the Horse Palace at the CNE – an undersung Art Deco Toronto gem that I’ll be returning to in future posts.

Runnymede Public Library, July 2020
2559 Bloor St. West, Toronto, July 2020
Horse Palace, CNE, July 2020
2010 Bloor St. West, Toronto, July 2020
315 Albany Ave., August 2020
1592 Bathurst St., June 2020
Anne Johnston Health Station (formerly Police Station #12), 2398 Yonge St., Sept. 2020
1205-1211 Bathurst St. August 2020
Pall Mall Apartments, 3110-3112 Yonge. St. August 2020
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Pinhole Toronto

Don River, Oct. 2020

TWO WEEKS TO FLATTEN THE CURVE HAS TURNED INTO NINE MONTHS AND COUNTING. When I realized that we’d be drifting in and out of various phases of lockdown and that travel was off the table at least until the end of the year, I decided I had to do something – anything – to salvage a year that was probably an economic write-off, and prevent it from being a creative one. The spring and a touch of cabin fever had inspired a frenzy of activity, shooting in the kitchen, around the house and on the street, but my travel photography blog had been dormant since the end of last year, and that needed to change.

Since I couldn’t go anywhere, the obvious thing was to treat my hometown as a destination – to find a way to answer a question I was often asked when I was on a travel junket somewhere: “So what’s worth seeing in Toronto?” A question for which I’ve never had an answer. So I made a list of places I could visit in Toronto, places that I thought would be worth a few photos, some places I’d never been before, and most importantly places I could go that were actually open under our constantly changing guidelines for social distancing.

Guild Park, Scarborough, Sept. 2020
Scarborough Bluffs, Sept. 2020
Old Mill Bridge, Humber River, Sept. 2020
St. James Cemetery, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Etobicoke Creek, Toronto, Sept. 2020

Each outing was an excursion: I packed a tripod, water, snacks and a backpack full of gear, including the pinhole “lens” I’d bought on Kickstarter last year and received just as lockdown began. I’d spent the spring playing around with some park photos and a bunch of still lifes, but this was my opportunity to really test out just what was possible with this very basic, challenging piece of rudimentary, yet very engineered optics that had puzzled, frustrated and even angered other photographers who’d tested it out.

Even in bright sunlight I had to shoot with a cable release, locked off on a tripod, if I wanted to use the lowest possible ISO speed and mine as much detail as I could from the RAW files. Since focus wasn’t an issue – at a fixed aperture of around f165, everything is in focus from the horizon to the surface of the camera’s sensor – I had to worry about light and composition most of all. What I quickly learned was that most of the real work would end up happening later, during editing, in Photoshop.

Prince Edward Viaduct, Don Valley, Oct. 2020
Sherman Falls, Ancaster, Nov. 2020
Old Mill Bridge, Humber River, Sept. 2020
St. James Cemetery, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Taylor-Massey Creek, Toronto, Oct. 2020

I can see why other photographers would hate pinholes in general, and the Thingyfy Pinhole Pro X in particular: while technically in focus, sharpness is impossible, lens flare a constant threat, and true colour rendition absolutely out of the question. Every image file taken straight off of a memory card is raw material, but the pinhole images I worked with after each hike down some river or creek were daunting uphill battles, even after I’d spent twenty or thirty minutes retouching the spots and rings left behind by dust on my camera sensor.

Middle Road Bridge, Etobicoke Creek, Oct. 2020
Rouge Park, Scarborough, Nov. 2020
Mount Hope Cemetery, Toronto, Oct. 2020
Guild Park, Scarborough, Sept. 2020
Trail, Don River, Oct. 2020
Scarborough Bluffs, Toronto, Sept. 2020

Making any image work revolved around identifying the feature or shape or texture that would attract the eye, then going about a series of actions in Photoshop that isolated those features, sharpening their edges and shadows digitally, then subtly burying that sharpening in the soft, gauzy layers of the image. There was actual detail hidden each image; it just had to be carved out, then blended with the rest of the composition to maintain the dreamy feel of a pinhole image. It was a formula it took me weeks to refine, and I’m not sure I’ve gone nearly as far as I can with it yet.

The Oculus, Etobicoke, Sept. 2020
Rouge Park, Scarborough, Nov. 2020
Wilket Creek, Toronto, Oct. 2020
Mount Pleasant Cemetery, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Taylor-Massey Creek, Toronto, Oct. 2020
Etobicoke Creek, Toronto, Sept. 2020

Each image required at least an hour or two of work. I usually chose frames that had stark silhouettes or bright, highlighted areas against deep shadow. Even before the sharpening and blending, the best candidates had obvious graphic appeal that quickly made me realize that I was working toward a finished shot that had as much – if not more – in common with illustration or painting than photography.

Etobicoke Creek, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Mount Pleasant Cemetery, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Mount Hope Cemetery, Toronto, Oct. 2020
Scarborough Bluffs, Sept. 2020
Tiffany Falls, Ancaster, Nov. 2020
Toronto Necropolis, Sept. 2020

There was a painterly quality to all of the pinholes, but the best images- to my eyes, at least – were ones that looked like they were engravings or rotogravures taken from an old storybook or magazine. I’ve made no secret about ending up in photography only after failing as an art student; I was a merely OK draftsman, but a very poor painter. And I’ve complained for years that modern lenses are often simply too sharp for my uses. So this ongoing pinhole experiment has been wildly satisfying, as it’s allowed me to become both the early 20th century illustrator and pictorialist photographer I have always longed to be.

Scarborough Bluffs, Sept. 2020
Rouge Park, Scarborough, Nov. 2020
Etobicoke Creek, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Scarborough Bluffs, Sept. 2020
Humber River, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Mount Pleasant Cemetery, Toronto, Sept. 2020

Like most of my experiments, I’m still not sure where this one is leading me. The process has been a learning curve – always a gratifying experience – and while the results have been very different from what I was expecting when I pledged the price of this lens on Kickstarter over a year ago, they’ve been more than merely interesting, and at their best rewarding. There are some potential new directions for future work, and that’s never bad news.

Trail, Humber River, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Mount Pleasant Cemetery, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Etobicoke Creek, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Prospect Cemetery, Toronto, Oct. 2020
Don River, Oct. 2020

Winter’s in sight, and more lockdown with it, apparently. I doubt if I’ll be out in the wilderness with my cameras for a few months, and I don’t want to stop experimenting with the pinhole. The burning question that I’ve been asking since I got it – “Will it portrait?” – has already been answered, with one quick but encouraging session during a recent shoot. Which is great news, especially during a year like this one. But more on that later.

Scarborough Bluffs, Sept. 2020
Wilket Creek, Toronto, Oct. 2020
Bruce Trail, Ancaster, Nov. 2020
Wilket Creek, Toronto, Oct. 2020
St. James Cemetery, Toronto, Sept. 2020
Etobicoke Creek, Toronto, Sept. 2020
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Summer snapshots

Toronto Islands, August 2020

SUMMER ISN’T OFFICIALLY OVER YET, BUT WHO ARE WE KIDDING? Temperatures are dropping and the kids are going back to school and we’re bracing for another corona spike before the leaves start turning. We’re still not back to normal – whatever that might be any more – and the time for parks and patios is running out. God but I hate 2020.

After the self-quarantining of the spring, I’ve tried to spend the summer outside, working on projects like my moribund travel blog. It doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere for a while, so I’ve taken up the challenge of finding what’s worth seeing and talking about in my hometown – a place I tend to take for granted, and hardly one of the world’s more picturesque cities.

Eastern Beaches, Toronto, Aug. 2020
Lake Ontario, Toronto, Aug. 2020
Boardwalk, Toronto Islands, Aug. 2020
York Mills, Toronto, Sept. 2020

In addition to an as-yet-unnamed project, I’ve made my way out to the Toronto Islands and the Leslie Street Spit with my new camera backpack, a tripod and a bag full of lenses. I’ll keep exploring destinations reachable by public transit until the weather finally forces me and everyone else back inside. Until now, though, the biggest challenge has been shooting under relentless blue skies.

Leslie Street Spit, Toronto, Aug. 2020
Toronto Islands, Aug. 2020
Toronto Islands, Aug. 2020
Toronto Islands, Aug. 2020
Snake Island, Toronto, Aug. 2020
Centre Island, Toronto, Aug. 2020
Leslie Street Spit, Toronto, Aug. 2020

As I’ve said many times, since Toronto isn’t the prettiest town, I’ve had to find my joy here finding “ugly beauty” – accidental grandeur and intriguing juxtapositions. And, of course, lurking behind my fellow citizens looking for a good shot – an old activity that’s been made immensely easier thanks to the politely antisocial protocols of “social distancing.”

Eastern Beaches, Toronto, Aug. 2020
Snake Island, Toronto, Aug. 2020
Centre Island, Toronto, Aug. 2020

You could argue that it’s not really a snapshot if you need a camera bag and a tripod, but I’m not going to bother addressing that. It’s my blog and I’ll call it what I want to call it. And as any professional photographer will tell you, any time off where you still have a camera in your hand is really just a busman’s holiday.

My excursions have given me another chance to play with my new pinhole “lens”, outside in the sorts of conditions in which I think it’s meant to be used. I am, frame by frame, slowly getting the hang of this thing. With just another couple of months left to use it outside under sun and sky, I think I might break through to something that’s still forming in my imagination. Let’s see where we are in another three months.

Leslie Street Spit, Toronto, Aug. 2020 pinhole
Leslie Street Spit, Toronto, Aug. 2020 pinhole
Boardwalk, Toronto Islands, Aug. 2020 pinhole
Centre Island, Toronto, Aug. 2020 pinhole
Toronto from the Islands, Aug. 2020 pinhole
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Behind the scenes of 24 Hours in NYC

WHEN I WAS INVITED TO DO THE B&H PODCAST LAST NOVEMBER, I always knew that I wanted to do it in person and not by phone or Skype. It was too great an opportunity to take part in long distance, which meant a trip to New York City – hardly a hardship as far as I was concerned.

Planning ahead for the trip, it seemed like a great opportunity to do something I’d been thinking about for a couple of years – trying to duplicate a few of the great photos that have been taken in NYC, photos that have contributed to the city’s iconography. This meant staying overnight, and a bit of homework. I’ve already posted the results on my travel photography blog, but I thought I’d like to go into detail with the planning I had to do for the trip, and also post some of the leftover shots that I took during that busy, productive day.

My room at Leo House, W. 23rd St.

I booked a room at Leo House, which has been my lodging of choice in Manhattan for the last couple of years. A modest Catholic-run hostel on 23rd Street, just a block west from the (legendary but still under renovation) Chelsea Hotel, it’s clean and old-fashioned and (relatively) cheap, and I splurged on a room with a bath.

I’d flown into Newark early on Porter that morning, but I didn’t want to waste a minute so I dropped off my bag and headed out to do a location scout on one of my main photo targets. Leo House was extra convenient in that it’s just a few blocks away from the Flatiron Building, which was made famous not long after it was built in photos taken by Edward Steichen.

I took a quick Instagram shot of the building, which looked striking even in the midday light. I knew that the weather and light had to line up perfectly if I hoped to get anything close to Steichen’s shot, which needed to be taken in dim morning light, and preferably when the pavement was wet. The Instagram pic looked good enough that I began worrying whether that would end up being my best Flatiron shot of the trip.

Just recently I returned to making notes for important shots – something I used to do all the time in the 1990s, when I was still doing a lot of studio shooting. There were a lot of logistics in play if I hoped to pull off everything I had planned for this trip, so I began planning weeks before, making notes of subway stops and routes, sunset and sunrise, and the approximate guesses of where I needed to be with my cameras, picked out with Google Maps and Google Street View.

I’d also researched my locations as much as possible, and I knew that Steichen wasn’t the only New York photographer captivated by the Flatiron Building when it was still new. His friend and mentor Alfred Stieglitz had taken a photo that likely spurred on the competitive Steichen to produce his own take, and their peer, the pictorialist Alvin Langdon Coburn, took his own famous shot of the building a few years later.

Flatiron at midday, NYC, Nov. 2018

I had all of these images in my head as I walked around the edge of Madison Square Park with my camera. I knew that getting my homage to the Steichen photo was the focus of my efforts, but while I was there I couldn’t resist making a few tentative efforts at something in the spirit of Stieglitz and Coburn’s shots.

34th St. Station, NYC, 2018

I don’t know why I love the New York subway but I do. It’s grimy and confusing but I never feel like I’m in the city until I take a ride on the subway. Every station looks unique, and the amateur historian in me is always looking out for the traces of closed entrances and tunnels to adjacent lines. It’s also a fantastic place to take photos.

DUMBO, Brooklyn, Nov. 2018
Manhattan Bridge, Brooklyn, Nov. 2018

Even when I used to spend a lot of time in NYC back at the turn of the ’90s, I didn’t get out to the other boroughs very much, and I never crossed the Brooklyn Bridge. Back then the neighbourhood around the Brooklyn side of the bridge didn’t even have a name. The famous view down Washington Street toward the Manhattan Bridge is overrun with selfie-takers now, but I was fascinated by the adjacent streets where the massive piers of the bridge dominate the landscape.

Brooklyn Bridge, NYC, Nov. 2019

I’m sure there are a thousand ways to photograph the Brooklyn Bridge. I ended up making a few attempts at the view of the bridge arcing its way across the East River into Manhattan, but when I was on the pedestrian walkway I ended up shooting up most of the time. I’ve been told that you didn’t used to see that much foot traffic on the bridge; I imagine you’d have to get out there pretty early, or in some pretty harsh weather, to have the whole impressive sculptural spectacle of it to yourself. Perhaps that’s a project for another trip.

Empire, NYC, Nov. 2019

As I approached the Manhattan side of the bridge, I could see my next destination in the distance. The Empire State Building still dominates the midtown skyline, and hopefully it always will.

Flatiron, NYC, Nov. 2019

I didn’t want to waste any time with lineups going up to the 86th floor observation deck of the Empire State Building, so I had spent a bit extra and bought the VIP Express Pass online. I’d done my research – it was known that Berenice Abbott had shot her famous photo of Midtown Manhattan in 1934 from a window near the northwest corner of the building, but the first thing I saw as soon as I walked out onto the observation deck was my quarry for the following morning, cleaving through the thickets of buildings to the south.

Consulting my notes, Empire State Building, NYC, Nov. 2018

After getting my bearings, I headed right for the corner closest to where Abbott took her photo. Consulting my notebook, I saw that there had been very little change over the decades to the scene below, and that I would probably be able to shoot a pretty close approximation of her original photo. I only had to kill a bit of time while the sun began to set.

Midtown Manhattan, Nov. 2018

I wandered through the crowds on the observation deck, slipping into an empty spot by the railing whenever I saw one to shoot whatever looked interesting. It was, as they say, a target-rich environment – Manhattan at dusk looks magical, and I came away wondering why, with so many opportunities for a picture in front of her, Abbott had chosen that one, specific view?

New York Public Library, Nov. 2018

I had more time to kill before I had to meet a friend in the city for dinner, so I plotted out a route that would take me past the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue and Grand Central Station on my way to P.J. Clark’s. The library was closed so I had to focus on the famous stone lions out front and the skyscrapers behind them – a view I’m sure hasn’t changed in at least seventy or eighty years.

Village Vanguard, Nov. 2019

The day ended at the Village Vanguard, a world-famous jazz club that’s miraculously still in business. No photographs allowed during the show, so I had to settle for a shot of the neon sign outside.

Flatiron (after Stiechen), NYC, Nov. 2019

The rain started falling when I walked back to Leo House, and it was still falling the next morning when I got up before dawn to take the Steichen shot of the flatiron. I was wet and cold but at least I was lucky enough to match the circumstances in which Steichen took his photo. Once I was satisfied that I couldn’t shoot any more, I headed back to my room to dry off and get ready for the B&H interview.

I was hoping there’d be time after lunch with my friend Chris Buck to walk down the High Line with my cameras to 23rd before I had to get back to Newark, but the weather and an accident by the New Jersey Railroad line into Penn Station meant I had to recalculate my route out of the city via the PATH. Leaving at least one more iconic New York City location to shoot the next time I was back in the city.

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