Gentrification

I spend a lot of time documenting a New York that doesn't really feel like my experience.  I promised co-workers that I would keep them updated, and send pictures.  I had also fixed on the story of me becoming a tour guide, because that felt less crazy to people than theatre.  So, to that end, I have an Instagram that I keep updated with... a version of my New York experience.

More and more it feels like someone else's experience of the city. The other day I found myself outside Bryant Park, staring at a building I'd seen back in March and thinking, "Oh, that's the Empire State Building."  Then I turned the corner and saw the Chrysler building.  I have walked down these streets.  I've been all around the park and the library multiple times; I *have* to have seen it without noticing it.  So this time, I took the photo and posted it, pretending that I hadn't seen it before.

Beyond that, though, the New York in my photos is shiny.  It looks bright, clean, coloured in purple, green, blue and yellow, and friendly.  It looks like a tourist would want New York to look.  There's one image of Prospect Park, in Brooklyn, that I find particularly funny because it looks beautiful, because you can't really see all the trash on the ground and you definitely can't smell the fact that the entire area smells like pee.

I think if I were to actually photograph the New York I see, it would mostly be concrete and chrome, railings and garbage bags.  The dirty once-white of the inside of subway stations and pavement so covered in gum it looks like a Dalmatian are more what my days look like.

I moved, and was worrying about explaining the new place, because it's in a neighbourhood that historically would have made my mother panic to even know existed.  I currently live a block from gentrification.  The food stamp centre and the job assistance place are juxtaposed with expensive cafes with brunch menus.  If I walk two blocks west, places try to identify themselves "not quite the thoroughly gentrified neighbourhood next door."  If I walk two blocks east, I can go to a Family Dollar that reminds you every 60 seconds that the premises are being monitored.

I'm not sure how I'd photograph that if I could, but I know I don't really want to share it, yet.  They can wait for the hopelessness of winter in the city to set in.