Coney Island speaks for herself. I was surprised to experience difficulty capturing the spirit of this area – I thought it would be a piece of cake. The color, the people, the sheer beauty of individualism on the boardwalk. But the color was too bright shiny new, and didn’t resemble the Coney Island of my memories. The boardwalk was a little empty – though it was a beautiful spring day – and as for the wild, eclectic crowd? Come back on the weekend.
Some of the icons of the famous boardwalk still exist, albeit despite the overhauling of the neighborhood in recent years by certain “developers”. Watch the following documentary on how Coney Island has been dismantled and cobbled back together again, leaving residents and long-time workers out in the cold:
I walked the boardwalk, ventured a few blocks inland to the concessions, walked the pier, still I didn’t feel I could really capture or even put my finger on the essence of this place. Like many of the neighborhoods I’ve been shooting Coney Island is in transition. But something has stalled. It’s trying to hang on to its heritage after being gutted from the inside out. What remains leaves room for regrowth, but how? Astroland cannot be regenerated. Displaced residents can’t come back. But there is a strong undercurrent of Coney Island’s unique identity, perhaps just lying low a bit until the development wave washes over it.
LIC sits against the 59th Street Bridge, Newtown Creek and the rail lines. The little triangle consists of upscale residences, old tenement buildings, Silvercup Studios, myriad taxi garages and a vibrant warehouse area feeding a variety of business concerns. You can see Roosevelt Island and the FDR Memorial from its waterfront.
This area is in such a state of transition that it’s very difficult to define. I guess the theme is “change”. Recently a neighborhood of immigrants, LIC still hugs Astoria – a neighborhood so diverse that my school’s religion class takes an annual field trip there to be able to visit a Hindu temple, a mosque, a Greek Orthadox church, a Buddhist temple and a Jewish temple all in the course of a few hours, with time to spare for lunch at a Chinese buffet. But in its very recent history LIC has become the next stop for the Millenial spread from Brooklyn. And the addition of several towering condo buildings and the development of the waterfront signal the financial success of those just a few years advanced in the quest for the great American dream. The death of 5Pointz was a blow to the community and signaled a changing demographic. So while there still exists some of the character of a more typical middle class neighborhood in the boroughs, that seems to be diminishing quickly as prosperity spreads.
Let’s check back in in about ten years and see who can recognize the neighborhood.
I used to come here fairly frequently when we lived on 59th Street in Manhattan near the bridge. It’s changed a great deal in the last 30 years. There’s a beautiful church that used to stand in a field but is now tightly surrounded by high-rise apartment buildings. The Smallpox hospital at the south end of the island was once a prime destination for urban explorers. Now it stands, nearly demolished, embraced by a chain link fence. It’s future is uncertain. At the very far south end of the island is the new Franklin D. Roosevelt Four Freedoms Park, a truly stunning memorial/green space with spectacular views down the length and width of the East River.
Roosevelt Island sits in the East River between Manhattan and Astoria, Queens. You can get there by a bridge from Queens, or the subway. You can also get there by tram. Tram? This is a truly unique feature of this spot.
The island is within spitting distance of either shore, but it has a character all its own.
There’s a tame, suburban quality to the vibe of the place, lots of tourists. There was a film crew lunching between takes at the top of the island when we stopped by to look at the lighthouse. That’s a story in itself – it stands near the former “lunatic asylum” and a resident of said institution apparently built a sea wall to connect Roosevelt Island to a tiny island off its northernmost shore sometime in the 19th century. He claimed responsibility for the lighthouse as well.
The island is rich with history, as are many of the islands that form the archipelago that is our city. Well worth a visit.
This has been a rough winter, and we have not escaped it, despite our island status. The neighborhood is quiet during the winter, one of the charms of living here. But it can also become claustrophobic. The wind howls across the water, making it difficult to venture outside. Boats are brought up into dry-dock and block our views to the open water. Gates to the street beaches are locked; even if you could walk through them the beach is covered with washed-up icebergs this year. No quiet reflection at water’s edge for now. Walking the sidewalks can be treacherous with months of hardened ice and heaved-up concrete from the bitter cold and snow.
City Islanders celebrate the holidays with whimsy and good cheer. The Christmas decorations were a bright spot in this dreary winter, and brought smiles to my face as I tromped around in the sub-freezing weather looking for signs of life. Today is the first day of spring; it’s snowing mightily.
I came upon this surreal scene when I drove over to the beach to take a walk. The parking lot is huge. It’s a dumping ground for plowed snow from all over this part of the Bronx. I walked into the fog and photographed this other-worldly landscape just as the sky began to clear in the very late afternoon. The last two images were taken on the beach: they show High Island and City Island in the distance, through the mist.
High Island visible across the foggy bay
Long View of Orchard Beach with City Island in the background
Frederick Johnson had a good deal to do with the development of this neighborhood in the late nineteenth century. Before it’s transition to a suburban development Dyker Heights was designated as farm land; crops included grains, fruits and vegetables. What began as a largely Anglican enclave evolved into an Italian neighborhood as those immigrants began pouring in during the first half of the twentieth century. Many of the homes were converted to Mediterranean style with notable statuary and topiary adorning their well-manicured yards. Sometime in the 1980’s the residents began outdoing each other with fabulous displays of light and color during the Christmas season. Now Dyker Heights is known as the number one destination for fans of Christmas light displays. I visited at dusk and was enthralled by the transformation as the sun set and the lights clicked on.
I’m looking forward to revisiting the area in the spring. The architecture is intriguing and the location of the neighborhood in the shadow of the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge pulls at my curiosity to see what drives this neighborhood during the off-season
First, I was surprised to discover that this park is in Queens, not Brooklyn. Standing on the beach at Dead Horse Bay, you can look past the span of the Marine Parkway – Gil Hodges Memorial Bridge toward the Rockaways. On the other side of the buildings of the north shore of that spit of land lies the beach, its art deco bath house and numerous other buildings and landmarks – remnants of another Robert Moses project. This beach development was meant to attract lower income families early in the twentieth century. Moses chose this site because it was accessible by bus. Today, the beach looks deserted. Yes, it’s winter. But there’s a general atmosphere of disrepair along the boardwalk. There are no orange fences holding back the encroaching sand, which buries the steps from the beach to the boardwalk. Small buildings are in ruin; handball courts overgrown with weeds and beach grass. Still, there’s something alluring about this place. The buildings were designed to mean something. Attractions – tennis and basketball courts, mini golf – span the roadway running parallel to the boardwalk. It’s a good destination and I look forward to traveling there in season.
Fort Tilden lies just beyond Jacob Riis Park. It was an artillery base spanning the years between the start of our involvement in the first world war and the late 1970’s. At one time it was home to a nike missile base. At present time, the fort consists of a number of buildings that are in use by artist groups. There is a theater, an art gallery, a children’s art space and a community garden. Kind of nice to see this peaceful overhaul of a remnant of the cold war.
Close to the beach lie a number of abandoned buildings covered in graffiti. As a lover of street art, I see this as an extension of the more formal endeavors at the main site of the fort. I was able to photograph the interiors of most of the buildings before a park ranger shooed me away. Apparently the public is welcome to roam the area as long as we don’t enter the buildings – but this isn’t specified on any signage.
Mia and I returned to Dead Horse Bay. She got busy working on a mandala – gathering beach glass, shells, metal objects and sorting them by color. She then used an old piling to create
a compass, and drew a large circle, then a spiral, in the sand. The collected objects went into the piece and it was a pleasure to watch her creative process unfold. I constructed some small weavings in the woods near the site, but I was mostly captivated by the place that day. The tide was going out quickly and, with each passing few minutes, more discards were revealed at the tide line. I walked south to discover some metal structures and other ruins along the beach. I photographed everything, and still can’t get enough of the tarnished magic of this place.
Mia, Nelly and I traveled to Dead Horse Bay in Brooklyn on November 8th to create an installation reflecting our responses to the site. Dead Horse Bay is a former landfill located across Flatbush Avenue from Floyd Bennett Field. I documented our installation at this unique New York City site. This tree has been a long-time ongoing art project and we were surprised to find it empty – stripped of the bottles and artifacts we’d seen hanging from the tree in the past. After Sandy the installation was damaged, but still visible, and it had been restored since the hurricane. It was curious to see that something or someone had removed the pieces, leaving the branches bare. We decided this would be the perfect place to create our weaving pieces. We used materials brought to the site and some materials found at the site. We also brought home some artifacts, completing the cycle of engaging with the environment.