what am I documenting?

update: this post has been updated.

My son borrowed my camera the other day.

“What are you documenting?” he asked when he saw the pictures I’d taken.

Good question. I’m not quite sure, except to say that for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction—in this case, the bold and fast-paced transformation of a (formerly sleepy seedy, then sleepy) neighborhood via striking (and sometimes strikingly incongruous) architectural statements (some of which are artful and most of which are gut-wrenchingly bad) have propelled me out into the streets of Lower Manhattan with my camera.

When the inevitability of change gets in your face every time you walk out your door, it seems like a natural reaction to want to document those changes freeze the present, at least temporarily. I didn’t set out to hold off the future but rather to preserve my memories of the present (because we always think we will remember how things were, but we never do).

There is nothing conservative about me. I come from a long line of rebels. I am not afraid of change—as long as the rush to change isn’t so great that we are tempted to throw out all of the old to make way for all of the new. The old and the new can not only coexist peacefully; they can live together in harmony.

So: I have taken to documenting the changes in my photographing my backyard. I thought I was documenting the change, but that makes it sound too much like I’m trying to hold off the future. Which I’m not. I have always been intensely curious about the future.

This intermittent photo diary is an accompaniment to the hints of change that I’ve been picking up in the culture but cannot possibly document because of the dizzying pace and odd trajectory of that change. Are we taking two steps backwards at the same time that we claim we’re making progress?

the Gwathmey building at Astor Place, viewed from Cooper Square

NoHo, corner of Bond and Lafayette, looking north

April 2007