24 and 7th

Today we celebrate 24 years of married bliss, and Roger Federer's Wimbledon win; his  seventh. Our wedding took place in our loft on Lafayette Street in NYC, but no pictures were taken so we dressed up again a few days after the wedding and set the delayed action. On my right is my son Alexander and on my left my daughter Cathy.

We spent today gardening; weeding to encourage nature's finest ground cover, Vinca Minor to spread, and spraying things with Dawn to keep the bugs off. Tonight we will open a bottle of Auxey-Duresse given to us by Nick Groombridge when he came round to show us his McLaren the other day.

The glory that is surrounding Murray's loss at Wimbledon is perplexing. You might have thought he had won. I can't remember a runner-up so praised. Caroline took another line: "The Queen should put him in the Tower; even have his head off." I pointed out that his being Scottish, with their impending independence, that's now not so easy. Federer does not read press reports about himself or an other player, he tells us, so he does not care  about all this.



 

Damaris on Liberty Street in Newburgh, 102 °F

After we finished taking the photographs we sat outside The Wherehouse and Damaris and Shakuur flipped through the dummy of my book, Newburgh: Portrait of a City. They recognized many people. with cries of, "I know her... I know him."

Turning the pages, Shakuur said, "There's Trista — my first. That's Sheila — she's blind now, she lives in Albany."

"Was she a girlfriend too?" I asked.

"He wouldn't remember," Damaris said.

Shakuur took no notice. "She has two daughters, they are beautiful. They are beautiful."

As they continued to look to see who they knew in the book, Shakuur glanced at the passing cars. He waved and yelled greetings to the occupants of many that passed. "I have an eye for this — recognizing people."

"This baby ... he's grown up now. That's his mother's girlfriend holding him; she was bi-sexual. They were openly gay in high school and she helped raise the kid."

More pages were turned. Damaris said, "This woman ran a whorehouse. My grandmother and her sister were girls then. Being half Native American they had long hair and she chopped it off ... for wigs.

Part of the beauty of Damaris and others I photographed is from the mixture of blood: African and Native American. Damaris is also part white, she told us, Jewish.

Here is Damaris in the original picture I did of her with a friend 14 or 15 years ago. I never knew her name; she just told me they were on their way to work at the mall, but they could spare a minute. It was not until earlier this year when we started to look for some of my subjects that we encountered a cousin of hers who put us in touch. 

Damaris

I don't know that I ever did justice to the 15 year-old Damaris when I first took her picture with her friend Shamika. We used it as a card and we used it as the photograph on the main page of our Kickstarter fundraising campaign. It is an appealing photograph, but it's a soppy photograph. I wanted to do better and get something with more guts to it. Here is Damaris today, aged nearly 30 years-old, taken on Liberty Street in Newburgh last week.
Continued in next post.

Damaris and Yours Truly

Damaris arrived punctually as always, but my heart sank because she had brought a friend. When I was introduced, he said, "I'm her husband." My heart had sunk a little because friends, wives, husbands, lawyers, agents and well wishers of any description can stand in the subject's eyeline, talk, coo, and make suggestions as to how to do the picture. 

This husband, although he followed us down the street where I wanted to take the picture, went back to sit with Caroline and Louis outside The Wherehouse, as soon as I asked him. (Not before I had decided to do a photograph of them together, later.)

"We are married but separated," he told me as he stood beside his wife. She had already told me that they were living apart. "He has to get his act together, and then we'll see."  

Yours Truly is how Damaris' husband, Shakuur, refers to himself.
Continued in next post.

Lost saw

Earlier this week I bought a hand saw at the Home Depot. When I got home I could not find it in the car and thought that probably I had left it behind at the store. It took me an hour to be put through to the person who deals with this kind of absent-mindedness. After giving the person who finally came on the line the item number on my receipt she told me that they had found a saw, but just a minute... this one was a Stanley; mine was a Dewalt. Then she said, "I remember you, I recognize your accent. I'll put the details in the book. Just come in and show your receipt and pick up another." 

Speaking with an archaic English accent, and at least, not looking like a crook, surely helped. But encountering an angel was the luckiest part.

Caroline and Hansel

Sadly we may be seeing less of Hansel now that he has a live-in guardian at his house in Garrison. For the last month, whenever Caroline had a day working at home or at the weekend, she would collect Hansel and bring him to our house where he would either make himself comfortable on the sofa, or on our bed alongside our dog Louis. He quickly learnt not to go anywhere near Louis' bones, or near Nutmeg, one of our cats who dislikes all other animals and most humans. Others have been doing the same thing while Hansel was temporarily without a housemate.

Hana's idea

During the talk I gave at The Wherehouse benefit evening in Newburgh last week, Hana, above, asked, "May I suggest you give up the idea of renting a cherry picker for installing the photographs. They are very expensive, aren't they? Keep the money for taking more photographs and ask the Fire Department if they would donate the use of one of their engines with a long ladder and platform. They once helped us out on a job."

Hana is an AmeriCorps volunteer with Habitat for Humanity who build houses for those in need.

In spite of the large amount of time taken up with printing, mounting, installing and fundraising for my Newburgh Exhibition, there is time left for domestic bliss in the form of stewed red currents, as done by Mrs. Beaton, accompanied by a glass of Sauternes. The dog belongs to Sandy Saunders and is a friend of our dog Louis. He comes for visits at the week-ends. His name is Hansel.   

Father and daughter

Father and daughter shrimping in The Solent, England, early 1970s.

The camera still loves me.

Number 103 Renwick Street in Newburgh is a small three story house. On the right of it a car sits behind a high wooden fence with grass growing to the height of its wheel arches. On the other side of the house, more cars behind a chain linked fence, a tiny cottage beyond and three dogs barking, running up to the fence, bouncing off it and charging up to it again. All the blinds at Number 31 were drawn. Clothes were stuffed in the gaps where the air conditioner curtains would normally fill the space. An air conditioner fitted to a street level window had clothes in the gap but the clothes had been drawn aside a little, presumably to let in fresh air or to inspect activity in the street. 

Somewhere in this house we hoped we would find Toni, one of my subjects who was going into my book of Newburgh portraits. We needed her signature on a release in case we I wanted to use the picture of her, taken about 12 years ago, on the cover of the book. Through her sister, Caroline had found Toni on Facebook. She had agreed to sign and meet us at her house at 3.30 PM.  I knocked on the door several times and the only response I got was from a neighbor across the street, a Hispanic man in his sixties with a fragile command of English. He seemed to want to help but shook his head continuously saying that he did not have anything to do with the people who lived there and did not know if a young woman with three children lived there. Then I saw her name on the mailbox so I suggested to Caroline we sit in the car and wait.

We waited only a minute or two before a couple appeared followed shortly by a third person who said that indeed Toni did live there. "Go through the front door, down the corridor and her door is at the end on the left." It had not occurred to me that the front door might be open. On reaching the end of the corridor I knocked on the door on the left. There was a half minute pause perhaps and then a voice asked who it was. I said, "It's Dmitri, the photographer you were expecting." The door opened slowly and a female figure stood in the threshold surrounded by children. It was no lighter in the apartment than it was in the corridor that was lit only by the curtained glass front door. She said hello smiling a greeting that conveyed a warm welcome.

I said. "Do you remember what you said when I stopped you in the street and asked to take your picture?" Without hesitation she said, "I said yes." I replied that she did not only say yes but had added, "Of course you can, the camera loves me." She asked us to come in and the children crowded around Louis to pet him. 

The only light in the room was from the cracks in the window shades. But I could see clearly enough to catch the glow of the clear complexion of Toni's lovely smiling face. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"

"About 12 years, I think."

I explained about the need for her to sign a release. She moved across the room to a book case and switched on a small desk lamp on one of the shelves. Then I saw, propped against a division, slightly crumpled in places, an eight by ten print of the picture I had taken of her twelve years ago. Caroline and I were both very moved at the sight of it. I had with me, in an envelope, a larger version, recently printed on my digital printer. I pulled it out and gave it to her. While the smallest child turned up the volume of the stereo to maximum, Toni found a pen and without saying anything to the child turned the stereo off. "I think it's the sixth today, isn't it?" and signed the release.

I said I would love to take another picture of her but she said she would like to dress differently so could we do it another time. We moved towards the door and the children came with us on to the doorstep where they played with Louis for five minutes until their mother called them in to tidy up their room.

We returned today and I took this picture.        

Celebratory spirit

As promised, here is the celebratory spirit I said I would find. We reached our goal on Kickstarter and are going ahead with the proposed exhibition. But the smile we see here is also a very natural vivacity, unrelated to a specific event. Here is a greeting that Latoiya would give to those who greeted her, whatever the occasion. We met her today in the heat of the afternoon, taking her three year old nephew to basketball practice.

Don't mess with me! Hurry up—take it! It's  not actually what she said but it sure looks like it. I don't always find that peaceful, enigmatic look I search for. 

But, this weekend I shall look for a face that gives a more celebratory feel, to match our reaching the Kickstarter goal earlier this week. Watch this space! 

If you or a friend were considering a pledge, Kickstarter will gladly receive them until June 5th. One's project is allowed to be over subscribed. We have indeed reached our goal, but we still need funds to pay our interns and volunteers who will be helping with printing, mounting and installation. The expert help required with the printer, and the cherry picker operator for installing the work, must also be paid.

Giving a talk at the Newburgh Library, Thursday 24th May, at 7.00 PM.

Three Blades

 

I ran down Chambers Street in Newburgh to catch up with these young men. They agreed to my photographing them but immediately took off. They shouted and waved at me as they disappeared down the street, "We'll be back!" I waited five or ten minutes. Then, there they suddenly were, dressed much as they had been when they left me, but... they had all changed their shoes. In spite of the gleam and marvelous colors of their sneakers—jet black, shining like patent leather, to piercing lime green—I liked this shot the best. It showed their beauty, style and physique—what had caught my eye in the first place. 

Please visit Kickstarter to consider pledging support for the outdoor exhibition of mural size prints we plan to display on the wall of The Ritz Theater in downtown Newburgh.

Gardening and drumming in Newburgh NY

I was filming Agii and Decora sowing seeds in their garden on Chambers Street in Newburgh. I noticed how Decora showed Agii how to do everthing with her hands. Smooth the soil with the palm, make the 1/4 inch trench with your forefinger and fill the trench after you have sown the seeds with forefinger and thumb.

Along comes Kazi Oliver to volunteer his help. Decora said to me, "You must film him; he is a great drummer." Kazi fished out a drum from the back of his mini-van, tapped it a few times but was not happy with it and exchanged it for another. This is his battery.

To see him playing go to: https://vimeo.com/41953039

The Waitt

The Waitt are the poetry rap group from Newburgh, NY. We met them at an open mic night at The Wherehouse on Liberty Street in Newburgh. They kindly agreed to record this to help promote our Kickstarter project for the planned outdoor exhibition of mural size prints on the wall of The Ritz Theater in Newburgh. To find details of the exhibition and how to pledge, please go to kck.st/Izx5aH.

Friends

Michael is a photographer and his friend from California is still not used to the harsh winters and humid summers here in the East. But she has been here 12 years, mostly in and around Newburgh. What does that say?

He is a member of The Waitt, six young poets and singers who rap. We filmed them for an update on our Kickstarter project. The good life in Newburgh—forthcoming event.

Strength

Taken a couple of months ago, this is a picture of Bettina Utz, Caroline's Pilates teacher.

Diverse talent

Agii is a gardener and poetry rapper in Newburgh. We met her first at an open mic night at The Wherehouse. on Liberty Street, a place where they want everybody who passes through their doors to leave knowing they have been more than welcome, and given the best burger for their money. In the back, Dan, the proprietor, once a month gives over the space to people who want to perform. They are charged nothing and encouraged to bring their own food. The place is packed.

Her garden is precisely laid out into six 4ft x 8ft raised beds where she is going to grow raspberries and strawberries. All the wood that lines the raised beds is recycled from torn down neighboring houses. The land itself was donated by her friend Decora of ReadNex Poetry Squad.

Please go to Kickstarter for details of the re-launch of my appeal for funds for my outdoor exhibition of the people of Newburgh. During our many visits to the city during the last three weeks we have received wholehearted approval for this endeavor and a cry that this exhibition must take place. Please help if you can.

"Essence of Newburgh"

Purvis, who's store looks out directly on to the wall where I plan my exhibition, has some nice words to say about its prospects.

Thank you all for your generous support of the Kickstarter project. We still have 5 days to go so there is time to pledge if you are thinking about it.

Purvis, proprietor of the Newburgh store Hiphopheaven, says that the exhibition will be, "A benefit to Newburgh and for Newburgh."

Newburgh newlyweds

Susan had lived in Bedford-Stuyvesant and Cynthia on the Lower East Side for many years. "The urban architecture and the broader community is what I love most about Newburgh," said Cynthia.

They found a small abandon but solid building that made electrical parts. They converted it and made raised beds on the rough ground in front of it to grow raspberries and strawberries. 

"This is the face of Newburgh; this is why I like this city," they exclaimed when I showed them the mockup. 

It's all on Kickstarter and if you have a moment, please look. We still need pledges. If you already have, thank you.


Cynthia, a resident of Newburgh, describes the effect the outdoor exhibition of my portraits of the citizens of Newburgh might have on them and the world around us.