. “In January 1971, I flew into Los Angeles from New York, where we were having a particularly nasty winter. I stepped off the plane to an incredibly clear sky with a piercing sun – and just started photographing. I was like a starving man at a banquet. It was the first time I'd been and I was struck by the light, the variety of the landscapes, and the urban centres. It's the place I keep coming back to, the closest thing I have to a concept.”
Here’s to you Henry Wessel. One of the greats. RIP
There are many things I’ll never forget about this day— One of them being that my grandfather, Joseph Hronec, who lived in New York City all 87 years of his life, passed away the night before— how later we’d be grateful he didn’t live to see what would happen to his city the following morning. Mostly I remember walking the streets of lower Manhattan in the days and weeks that followed, how it felt making eye contact with strangers & the rare feeling of connectedness in the air. But I’ll never forget the surreal moment when my best friend @seanoconnell23 and I came across the picture of Chris Kirby taped to the tiled walls of Penn Station, among hundreds of other like images of the missing. He was our neighbor & had just started a temporary job as a carpenter on the 98th floor of 2 World Trade Center. That Tuesday was his second day on the job. He was a kid from the neighborhood like the rest of us, taking classes to become a firefighter, just like his father and so many other guys in the Bronx and Inwood. Thinking of his family and many others today, especially all #FDNY people.