Home For Now is half-decade long photography project exploring themes of identity, perception, and time that exists within the fleeting coming and going on the New York City Harbor.
In this place everyone has a beginning and an end; on the ferry they are caught in a liminal window of time. I see here a way to portray a sense of kindness for the subjects - a benvolence if you will. Often this city is hard; surfaces, judgments, and so on. And yet, there is a profound love for being a New Yorker. I wanted to capture the tireless and timeless essence of this place where millions have called it home, even if just for a brief time.
This space on the water provides enough of a window of ambivalance; an impatient nervousness for what’s ahead and a sense of peace from the world outside. 25 minutes one way is just enough for a quick nap or a way to tune out from the droning business.
Both ends are held in this journey across NY Harbor. It goes back and forth, 24 hours a day, holding a quiet space for all those who will experience a complete journey of waiting.
In this place everyone has a beginning and an end; on the ferry they are caught in a liminal window of time. I see here a way to portray a sense of kindness for the subjects - a benvolence if you will. Often this city is hard; surfaces, judgments, and so on. And yet, there is a profound love for being a New Yorker. I wanted to capture the tireless and timeless essence of this place where millions have called it home, even if just for a brief time.
This space on the water provides enough of a window of ambivalance; an impatient nervousness for what’s ahead and a sense of peace from the world outside. 25 minutes one way is just enough for a quick nap or a way to tune out from the droning business.
Both ends are held in this journey across NY Harbor. It goes back and forth, 24 hours a day, holding a quiet space for all those who will experience a complete journey of waiting.
“You can get so confused that you’ll start in a race
down long winding roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place.
For people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come,
or a plane to go or the mail to come,
or the rain to go or the phone to ring,
or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.“
down long winding roads at a break-necking pace
and grind on for miles across weirdish wild space
headed, I fear, toward a most useless place.
The Waiting Place.
For people just waiting.
Waiting for a train to go or a bus to come,
or a plane to go or the mail to come,
or the rain to go or the phone to ring,
or the snow to snow
or waiting around for a Yes or No
or waiting for their hair to grow.
Everyone is just waiting.“