A forgotten roll of black film exposes 1970s New York and exhumes long-shelved photographic ambitions to become the next Weegee, sans stogie. David and I walked downtown to meet some friends for an art show housed in one of the decrepit piers along the West Side Highway.
He must have taken this very uncharacteristic shot of me.
We met Barnet (center) and several of his friends, including Sam (far left), an aspiring actor who had just been cast in the bus and truck production of A Chorus Line. Bill, far right, was an artist who specialized in celebrity caricatures. Barnet and Howie, bearded, had been theater majors at City College and both lived in Manhattan Plaza, subsidized housing for performing artists.
Welcome!
It was quite the scene, with lots of professional photographers. Too bad neither my memory nor Google could find any trace of it.
I must have found it hard to separate the art from the environment.
Maybe David Wojnarowicz exhibited some of his early work there.
Sam used to date George C. Wolfe, who went on to direct Angels in America and a lot of other acclaimed theatrical productions. This odd phrase broke though the fog of memory like lavender neon.
As per our usual dynamic, David flirted; I photographed.
How could I have forgotten such an unusual day? Or did rediscovery only enhance its significance, a mechanical rescue of lost time?
No comments:
Post a Comment