From the Highline in Manhattan, streets become exhibits. From the mixture of strucutres built over the span of a hundred years, you can see what they were, what they are, and what they will become.
An obtrusive camera mars the the otherwise flat exterior of the National Constitution Center. It’s a freckle of irony, that such monitoring would be paired with the symbol of American rights.
The Jefferson Memorial, all alone except for one sole speck of a man. While in a way snubbed from the Mall of monuments, it lacks distractions and thus it’s presence becomes even grander.
A thousand patterns spring to life on the Brooklyn Bridge, fueled by the sun.
Train tracks cross the Shuylkill River in Philadelphia, supported by an old stone bridge.
In gentrified Manhattan, amongst some of the greatest architecture in the world, projects stand fresh as the day they were built, reminders of the uglier side of our society.
A rainy, hazy day in Manhattan is like stepping directly into the past, where modern colors and sharpness fade into the blurry greys and yellows caught on the first films.
An apartment stands in Philadelphia, uncertain of it’s future. Is it a modern renovation looking for a young couple, or a run-down mess on it’s last legs?
A mix of glass and brick buildings stand aside the High Line in Manhattan, symbolic area’s recent rejuvenation.
A young boy stares off the shore of Coney Island towards New Jersey. Only miles of open water and thick haze tether him to the shore.
An older man overlooks the beach at Coney Island. His days of exuberance under the summer sun are long past. Only stillness remains. No more swimming.
Ellis Island is never a trip to be taken lightly. Hours of travel and boredom break even the strongest spirit.