A photographer’s eye brilliantly captures an image that the naked eye cannot. Through the advent of digital photography and the evolution of the camera phone, everyone is now a photographer. And while many may lament the demise of the art of the professional photographer, I can’t complain about a world filled with striking images. And what I can do is celebrate the moments of beauty and light brilliantly portrayed in a photograph.
The ubiquity of street style photography is a phenomenon birthed by the instantaneous ability to take a picture at every moment. Inherent style to the average New Yorker, however, is nothing new. The sidewalk is our catwalk, documented as such as soon as the camera was invented.
Life is hard. There is no pass Go and collect 200 dollars or free pass through the Gumpdrop Forest. Life is a never-ending navigation of highs and lows. And for some, those lows dive to unimaginable depths. And for the lucky few, a bad day is when your phone dies or you miss the train. When those minor calamities bum you out, the collective genius of the Internet has a few tips for you or at least can help you laugh about it.
Despite being the slightly overweight kid that couldn’t finish the mile in gym class, I have found salvation in running. Pounding the pavement in my neon New Balances works out all the kinks. Running in New York, like much else in this city, is both a personal and communitive experience. And in New York, there are always ways to improve upon your experience.
This past week, the world lost two visionary artists who were beyond ground-breaking in their respective fields. As evidenced by newsfeeds filled with tributes to these artists, the loss of their passing was felt worldwide. And while I, nor most people, knew either David Bowie or Alan Rickman personally, to quote someone from the Twitterverse “Thinking about how we mourn artists we've never met. We don't cry because we knew them, we cry because they helped us know ourselves.”
In the early 80s, had no understanding of the legend of David Bowie. To me, he was the devilish, but incredibly stylish villain in Labyrinth. A character that was both intoxicating, yet inherently dangerous. Part-musical, part-twisted muppetry, Labyrinth spoke to my love of dark fantasies before I even knew what that was.