Victor works in transport. And he’s probably the first individual to request the photographs I took of him. I e-mailed him a bunch of them. Still no reply, perhaps he didn’t like them, who knows. I was walking to the Pulaski Bridge when Victor stopped to talked to me and ask for a photograph. Sometimes, I wonder if I should be calling my project; “old guys that talk to me”. In a way, the project came to me, I’ve done no real approaching during my time in New York, most of the individuals sort of crashed into taking a picture or crashed into me. I’m really not all that friendly actually, I have no actual skill in getting someone to take a photograph for me, they sort of… fall into my lens.

Victor works in Long Island. After taking the pictures, he said we should hang out. Probably not…

I find myself surrounded by friends, people constantly in this city. Yet somehow, it still just isn’t home. I totally understand what a friend of mine said by New York being a tiring, lonely city. Maybe I’m just not a native. Maybe I just haven’t quite settled in yet. But despite being in a crowd, at dinner with a group of friends, laughing frantically with my roommates, I still miss home. Somehow, it just isn’t the same. I am in love but not in love with New York. I looked at these pictures, and although they’re really not much about anything, they felt a little lonely to me.

I was in the midst of getting yelled at for photographing in Harlem when Willie called out saying, “Hey! You can take a picture of us!”. So I said I would, and I did. We talked about how some people in Harlem were so sensitive and mean. They were so nice and kind, photographing them was a pleasure.

I asked them how they met, they were husband and wife. Willie said he used to work at a store across the street from the park and India would walk past his shop everyday. He wondered how to work up the courage to talk to her. Then one day, India was crying outside the shop, someone had been mean to her. Willie used this chance to talk to her and comfort her. He said he was going to get whoever did this to her. And the rest is history.

India’s retired in her 60s now, she was really interesting to photograph. Her full denim outfit and red lining. Clanging keys hanging from her jeans, Marlboro’s and a fist full of jewelery.

I guess people surprise you sometimes by letting you access their worlds.

Grand Central Station is hands down, the most beautiful train station I have ever seen. Ironically, looking back at my series, I probably captured the “ugliest” parts.

Even back home, I’ve been doing portraiture for a while. I used to take pictures of everything, anything but at some point, I couldn’t connect with spaces or objects anymore. I’m not sure why. Last week, being sick, having a sore throat, I was in no mood to make conversation with a stranger, I was basically somewhat forced into pictures of isolation. And I guess this helped aid my personal response to the Architecture of Authority piece. I was drawn to the loneliness, not so much to skeptical view on authority.

And I suppose I tried to capture that loneliness in my photographs. I was intrigued by the fact I could take these pictures at a train station. If it was Singapore, I would have been questioned. It was like I was doing something I shouldn’t be doing, except… I could. I don’t know if that shows at all, but I sure felt it when I was pressing down on the shutter.

This is Roberto Ciaro. Probably one of the most interesting people I’ve met so far. A homeless guy who lives in Chinatown, originally from Mexico. He set up his table with flowers and a little buddha, the reason for which I’m still not quite sure. He obsessed about getting his Disney poster up in the backdrop. We talked for about half an hour, he tells me how he doesn’t think the US takes care of its own people and how television and technology have changed and hindered so many things.

He let me take pictures of him. In fact, he invited it, as if he wanted to make sure it was recorded that he existed. I saw him crop up in so many other of my classmates work, in full knowledge he was being photographed. Later on, he left me with his table with the little buddha to get a bicycle so I could photograph him with it. I felt a little bit like an insane person as people stared at me, thinking that his living area was mine. Then he came back and I snapped probably one of my favourite pictures to date. The one with him and the smoothie. He offered me his extra papaya smoothie after that, telling me it was fate that on that very day, he bought two smoothies. I declined, I hate papaya.

As I was about to leave, he asked whether I could write him a note and I did. He also didn’t want to let me leave without a gift. He gave me a pilot precision pen.

I’m not sure how I feel about the photographs. Looking back at them, it was as if another person had taken them. For some reason, in New York, I invite stangers to talk to me. Something I’m not the least interested in back home. Staring at all these strangers faces, I can’t help but wonder why I took pictures of them at all. Are they important? Will I remember them? Well, now, I have to.

This is John. I met him near the ocean at Williamsburg. He just started talking to me about how things used to be so different there. How when he was 12 years old, he used to jump into the water with his friends. You’re not allowed to do so anymore…

He said there used to be a railway there and that they’d jump off the pier into the water and swim to the side of the tracks to press all the buttons for the trains. Then the trains would start to hoot and move. I’m sure he’s exaggerating but that’s okay.

At the end of it all, I asked to take his picture. He eventually decided to go into some pose on the ground. With no prompting on my part. That was pretty amusing. Then he invited me to visit him at the bar around there anytime I wanted. Don’t think I will though.

I took these from the hip, without a thought or a look. When I saw the first picture, I was disappointed with the soft focus but after seeing the second, I thought it was an appropriate juxtaposition of the two. They kind of look like the angry chinese mob in these pictures.

I’m not sure how much I like relinquishing the control of looking through the lens. I do like some of the results, would probably have to do it again. With better exposure next time.

In busy Chinatown, I found a quiet resonance within these two pictures. I guess part of it is cause it doesn’t really look like New York in these pictures. And the colours reminded me of some Hong Kong movie I’ve watched.

It was the first day out and I was walking around hoping to chance upon someone who would honour me by allowing me to photograph them. That’s when I met chess guy. I regrettably didn’t get his name, but at least that reminded me to make an effort to do so next time whenever I photograph someone. Which will eventually lead me to posting pictures of John, Roberto, India, Willie and Conrad next time.

So as he gestured for me to come sit and play with him, I wondered what it must be like to sit there everyday, a very different life from my own. He showed me some moves, he was so fast, I didn’t get anything. And he let me photograph him. My first stranger in New York and I don’t even know his name.