Exteriors and Interiors of a Pandemic began in late February 2020, as the Covid-19 pandemic was spreading rapidly and clearly heading toward New York City. Soon I was photographing its effects on the city’s landscape. It was truly shocking to ride my bike from my apartment in the Bronx to Times Square and then to Brooklyn, and to see the streets of New York completely deserted. After all, this is the city that never sleeps. Photographing under these conditions, it felt as if the decisive moment that Henri Cartier-Bresson spoke of had all but vanished. What remained was the empty landscape.
Given the psychological impact of the lockdowns and the resulting social isolation, it was inevitable that over the course of these two years, this series would become a reflection not only of the outside world but also of my own inner life — a record of thoughts and feelings. I welcomed this, as it became both a way of coping and a means of transforming anxiety into a creative body of work.
Soon after the peak of the health crisis, and in the shadow of immense death and loss, the uprising against racism erupted. As many as twenty-six million people across the U.S. demonstrated against the murder of George Floyd at the height of the pandemic. In this series, the pandemic and the anti-racist rebellion merge into one — and for good reason, as I believe we will look back on this period through that dual lens: as a time of profound crisis and powerful resistance.
Finally, these images are an homage to New York City. Across these one hundred frames, I revisit the subway stations, streets, and parks of my home for thirty-one years — searching for solace, and ultimately, rediscovery. The lockdown forced the city to a halt. The rat race was suspended, and for the first time in decades, there was space to pause — to look, and to truly see the city.
Sections
Exteriors and Interiors of a Pandemic began in late February 2020, as the Covid-19 pandemic was spreading rapidly and clearly heading toward New York City. Soon I was photographing its effects on the city’s landscape. It was truly shocking to ride my bike from my apartment in the Bronx to Times Square and then to Brooklyn, and to see the streets of New York completely deserted. After all, this is the city that never sleeps. Photographing under these conditions, it felt as if the decisive moment that Henri Cartier-Bresson spoke of had all but vanished. What remained was the empty landscape.
Given the psychological impact of the lockdowns and the resulting social isolation, it was inevitable that over the course of these two years, this series would become a reflection not only of the outside world but also of my own inner life — a record of thoughts and feelings. I welcomed this, as it became both a way of coping and a means of transforming anxiety into a creative body of work.
Soon after the peak of the health crisis, and in the shadow of immense death and loss, the uprising against racism erupted. As many as twenty-six million people across the U.S. demonstrated against the murder of George Floyd at the height of the pandemic. In this series, the pandemic and the anti-racist rebellion merge into one — and for good reason, as I believe we will look back on this period through that dual lens: as a time of profound crisis and powerful resistance.
Finally, these images are an homage to New York City. Across these one hundred frames, I revisit the subway stations, streets, and parks of my home for thirty-one years — searching for solace, and ultimately, rediscovery. The lockdown forced the city to a halt. The rat race was suspended, and for the first time in decades, there was space to pause — to look, and to truly see the city.
Sections