Midtown Manhattan

Midtown Manhattan

I have a fondness for old 70’s-80’s movies set in New York City. Escape From New York, The Warriors, Nighthawks, were all a staple of my childhood. Growing up around the NJ/NY metropolitan area from 1980-1989, I remember how New York City was considered a no-man’s land back then. Taking a trip to the city was the equivalent of wandering into Mordor. The sleaze, the shady characters, the noise, the smells, all of it terrifying yet wonderful. All serving as a banquet to feed my imagination.

Today’s New York is a sad shadow of it’s former wonder. A sterile, manufactured, mass-produced, prepackaged offering for tourists and families seeking big city thrills within their comfort zone. An urban Disneyland. Oh look it’s the Naked Cowboy, better cover little Sally’s eyes.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad that I can feel somewhat safer in the city, especially when carrying around camera equipment. But Giuliani’s crackdown not only put the hookers, dealers, and sex shops out of business, it also hurt the small record shops, bookstores, weirdo bars, and other elements which made New York a surreal wonderland. I still remember the day Coney Island High closed down for good, part of the Mayor’s sweep to close down bars for fire department violations. Who was playing that day? Lagwagon? I don’t remember, since I was going to a grindcore fest at CBGB’s a few blocks away. But it still bummed me out. If you want to find the former site of your old punk bar or indie record store or obscure bookstore, just go to the nearest Starbucks.

That is why I usually avoid Midtown Manhattan, unless I’m on the way home through Port Authority. But on this day I wanted to experiment with slow shutter speeds, and the area does serve as a good training ground for the technique. I’ll admit I didn’t know what the Hell I was doing, my knowledge limited to a few pages I quickly read in a photo guide book.

I shot this one during the summer of 2004, using my trusty ol’ Canon Elan 7 film camera. Although I don’t recall the day or month, I do remember carrying a cheap tripod all around Manhattan and leaving it sprawled upside-down in a trash can after the base mechanism broke. I don’t need no steenkin’ tripod!

Turns out I did need a steenkin’ tripod, since all the photos I took during that day came out as blurry messes that resembled Jackson Pollock paintings. Ironically, when I shot this one, I braced the camera against a vibrating street light pole for about 30 seconds. I guess it’s a lucky shot under the circumstances. Oh well, I think it would make a good postcard for tourists who braved the G-rated streets of New York City.

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