Sometimes you have to get up early and sneak out of the house to capture the beauty of the sun.
The tapped with the skills of Savion Glover. They tapped for the tourist and wanderers in the French Quarter hoping they would show their appreciation…hoping they would toss a dollar or two or even some loose change in the box. I wish I could say they danced their hearts out for the love and passion of the body in motion, but…this is New Orleans…and these are young black kids. And this a a city where opportunity always seems to overlook a certain segment of the population. Hustling in the quarter is just one of the realities that kids face here. Even after the storm and billions of dollars in investments, opportunity remains limited. And the hustle remains a way of life. I hope one of these days things will change and this kids will be hustling codes or starting their own businesses outside the service sector.
Day 14 (January 14, 2014) – New Orleans, Louisiana
As I make my way back to the New York I had the chance to take one final look at the Superdome. It’s a beautiful structure – part spaceship, part “Who Dat?!” super container. Home of the Saints and once upon a time home to few thousand “refugees” seeking shelter from a storm named Katrina. Goodbye New Orleans – until I see you again.
Day 13 (January 13, 2014) – New Orleans, Louisiana
A late night walk through the streets of the French Quarter is always an interesting experience as each block offers something unique. The music is a given, but it rangers from rock and bad karaoke covers of pop hits to the hypnotic horns and pounding drums of brass bands or the lonely street musician playing solemn tune on a violin. The people that roam the streets are a mix of intoxicated tourist, locals heading to work or to the regular watering hole and voyeurs like me just watching the night unfold. And then, there are people that are often unseen or overlooked that call these streets home. Perhaps they are down on their luck after a lifetime of disappointment or maybe they lost a fight with bottle and lost everything with each swallow. Their stories are often unknown. And to the passerby they are nothing more than a shadow. It’s about 1:00 AM. I lift my camera and shoot – still thinking about this person’s story. Questioning the America we live in where homelessness is common and economic disparities growing despite the wealth that exist all around us.
Day 12 (January 12, 2014) – New Orleans, Louisiana
There is nothing quite like a Sunday afternoon in New Orleans – especially when a second line parade passes through the neighborhood. I’m back in a city I love. A place that I called home for almost 4 years doing my part to help rebuild after Hurricane Katrina. I will always hold a special place in my heart for the Big Easy – for the good and the bad, this is just a special place. The culture of New Orleans is what hypnotized me. From the first time I saw the bright colors of men and women parading through the streets with a brass band belting out tunes at higher than humanely possible octaves. They danced. We danced. Everyone celebrated this day as if it were their last day on earth. Even as I tried to capture my image, I found me feet moving to the drums and horns once again hypnotized by the culture of New Orleans. In between dance steps, I shot not wanting to miss a moment but also not wanting to miss being in the moment.