]]> image-id:87 In March 2011 I was in NYC for the opening of my solo show at the Condé Nast bldg in Times Square. The New York Times wanted to document my work and my night shoots for a story and at the show I meet Corey Kilgannon, a veteran New York Times city reporter. He is intrigued by my work, and two days later we are off on a night shoot. Times photographer Robert Stolarik comes along to take photos of me at work. In the first 10 minutes, he shoots more pictures than I’ve taken in 10 years.

We head to a spot I’ve already staked out in Brooklyn by the East River, across from Manhattan. This is an incredible location, where remnants of a pier and mooring lie, along with old, fallen girders from a long gone structure, and in the background, the beautiful and ubiquitous Manhattan skyline. I set up, figure out my lighting and exposure, and shoot a test polaroid that requires a heavy dose of my own lighting. After 2 minutes of processing, I peel away the sealing strip on the instant film (which doesn’t seem so instant in the digital age) and the shot looks good! I’m always excited when I know I’m zeroing in on a great photograph, but I’m extra happy since I have two distinguished guests with me. I show them the polaroid, excited at the picture I’m constructing. I replace the polaroid-back with the film-back and I get ready to do the real shots. Just then a cop car rolls in.

Oh, did I forget to mention we had snuck through a break in the fence and were clearly trespassing? The officers are angry and yelling at us to return. Corey volunteers to speak to them and see if his credentials can get us a break before I take the camera off the tripod. He returns with bad news. The cops have threatened to cuff us and lock us up for the night unless we leave immediately. I am fucking pissed! After staking out dozens of locations, taking notes and digital pictures, this spot, through the fence by the East River had been a treasured find. I wasn’t mad at the cops - they're just doing their job and they don't know me from a brick in the wall. I was mad because it was a form of death. I wanted to give life to this image; instead, here it would lie, buried and unseen. Amusingly, Corey is happy and tells me that the story has just gotten much better.

We pack up and leave because neither of us wants to take a ride in a cop car, and we head to my number two spot, Alley 137 (below), a location I had found in Queens,.

This is a more subtle location, but it has great potential. The first thing I love about it is what looks like a battle between the ancient steel doors and the orange foam that is trying to burst through. And the setting for this tug of war is no slouch either! The shot requires a lot of my lighting, and Stolarik documents the whole shoot. The online NY Times story has a slideshow with excellent images of me at work at both locations.

Throughout the night I’m plotting my return to the East River ruins to get the missing photograph, but I’m worried that if I try, and the same cops catch me, I’ll be going for a ride to the precinct. When I leave NYC 3 days later, I don’t have the shot. Two months later I’m back in the city knowing there’s no way I’m leaving without the image. With the help of photographer friend Rachel Gardam, I go back through the fence and Alley 138 is mine.

Alleys & Ruins no. 137, Portal (2011, Brooklyn, NY, 12:15am)

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