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These photographs are of people I met on the streets of New York City. The sidewalks were like a river where I cast my line, fishing faces out of the crowd. I used a portable cloth backdrop to isolate my subjects from the hustle and bustle of the city.
September 1998My father was diagnosed with cancer near his seventieth birthday, in September, and passed away the following April. During his illness, I made four trips back home to Westville, Illinois, where both my parents were born and raised.
July 1998Three years after the end of World War II, thousands of people remained stranded in European displaced-persons camps. Some sought and gained asylum in the United States, where they hoped to start a new life. Having recently taken a beginners’ class in photography, Clemens Kalischer was drawn to the New York City waterfront to record the arrival of the displaced persons.
By Clemens KalischerFebruary 1998The photographs from this selection are available as a PDF only. Click here to download.
By Marvin W. SchwartzJanuary 1998The first [part of the series] documents a day in Lewis’s life in Salem, Missouri, when she was a carefree seventeen-year-old who often skipped school and tried on the wedding dress she kept packed away in her hope chest. The second part was made a year later, after Lewis was married and pregnant. The year was 1969.
By Gordon BaerDecember 1997DeGrane began taking photographs of people watching television in the mid-eighties. His first subjects were friends and family. Later, he sought out people who watched TV in unique or unusual ways, in their homes, apartments, dormitories, and prison cells. “I would always enter a person’s home with a certain reverence or respect, as a traveler might come upon a holy place,” he says.
By Lloyd DeGraneJuly 1996In the tobacco country of rural North Carolina, David M. Spear has photographed a family of plain-living people, and the beauty of his vision is startling. An old woman preparing to shampoo loosens her long, white hair; it floats, diaphanous, over a bowl of water. A man lying in bed gazes out a grimy window, his weathered, pensive face illuminated by sunlight.
By David M. SpearJune 1994I have had many dreams of being choked by a rapist, which of course I was. That was forty years ago when I was a child. I am still holding my breath.
By Jane OrlemanMay 1993The photographs from this selection are available as a PDF only.
It excites me to see how people’s perceptions change as they become familiar with those who have been labeled disabled. What initially seem to be huge barriers to communication start to fade.
By John BuntingJuly 1991Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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