With the weather turning colder, the rides and the stuffed prizes have all gone into hibernation and most of the shops and food stalls have pulled down their security gates for the season - Egad!, even the Nathan’s boardwalk eatery is shuddered. It’s only mid-November, but already it’s down to a couple of tee shirt shops, a small boardwalk bar and one outdoor food joint still valiantly serving up pizza and sausage and pepper heroes. So, too, have most of the crowds retreated indoors. There are still some hearty fresh air lovers strolling up and down the boardwalk; but at this point, it’s rare to see anyone sitting on a bench killing off an afternoon. Why would they? In weather like this, now down into the 40’s and a stiff winter wind occasionally joining the fun, it’s smart to keep moving. When people do sit, it’s usually for a short pit stop, to tie a shoe or to momentarily scroll through their selfies. As for my own “Scenes from a bench” project, what I mostly see if and when the benches are occupied are single or double blobs of black winter coats, faces and all other flesh hidden behind pyramids of goose down and scarves. Its getting hard to even spot a bit of color, as everyone’s wardrobe has moved on to New York’s winter palette of dark and drab. And this is still just November! I’ve got probably five more months of what looks like declining creative opportunity. So the challenge is on. And while the opportunities for a great image will be presenting itself in ever-decreasing numbers, I have a funny feeling the chance for a rare gem out there will be even greater. No remotely cliche “boardwalk moments” till spring, I suspect. In its place, who knows. But I do like the sound of that. So, I’ll just keep walking, looking, and trying to keep warm. If anything epic presents itself, you’ll be the first to know.

You walk past a structure, and it’s just a structure. In this case, a place to duck into, to get out of the sun. Nothing all that exciting. Grey. Cement. Picnic tables underneath. You walk by again the next day. Same thing. Next day, same. A dozen more days, there it is. Yawn. Seen it. Then you walk by, same structure, same picnic tables inside, same random silhouettes of people in the shadows, only this time, there’s a birthday party in progress, and the descending sun is lighting up the balloons like they’re electrified, and the same image is no longer the same image. That’s why I go back again and again, even though I’ve seen it all a million times. 

Not everyone loves to see a roaming photographer heading their way, but some people actually do. In fact, I’ve had a few people make the effort to call me over to take their picture. One was an older Eastern European couple, and another was a young family (actually the father) from somewhere I couldn’t quite determine, who wanted me to take a few pictures of his two young kids, whom he encouraged to get up off the bench and perform for me. In both those cases, I politely accepted their invitation, and they were incredibly grateful, thanking me over and over. I wondered, what do these nice people think I’m going to do with their images? Why would they want a complete stranger to have photographs of them or their kids? – and then be so grateful when it happens!  It’s not as if I’m going to send them a print or file, or that I told them to look for the picture in tomorrow’s newspaper. Then, there was the woman who waved me down, even though I had noise cancelling headphones on and was trying not to make eye contact. I was pretty sure she was going to give me an earful about taking pictures of people without their permission or even knowledge, but instead she was eager to ask about my photography interests and to share her own. She was from Jamaica and told me her uncle photographed Bob Marley for one of his album covers; she felt she had the makings of a serious photographer in her blood. She shared this idea she had of documenting various everyday people - street workers, cops, store owners - on their lunch break, which I thought was a pretty cool idea. I hope she does it.

The subway ride out to the boardwalk takes between 35-45 minutes, depending. This is when I jot down notes (like this), and think about what I might look for, how I might approach the day differently than the 50 other days I was there. 

From the start, I gave myself just a few rules, but they get pretty restrictive very fast. Don’t shoot anything specifically created to draw attention to itself - by that I mean the rides, the games, the food spots, the signage. There are a thousand people every day covering that stuff; they don’t need me. Second rule: stick to the boardwalk. So, every shot must be taken from the vantage point of the main stretch of the Coney Island boardwalk, roughly a mile long before you start getting into Brighton Beach. So me, standing on the boardwalk, pointing the camera somewhere. My primary focus, at least up to now, has been the old-fashioned benches that line the boardwalk facing the sea, of which there are roughly 120 from one end to the other. A lot of great portraits can present themselves on an 8-foot bench occupied by any number of random strangers, but even so, and even with all those benches, after 50 or so interesting compositions, it does get a little harder to be surprised. So I’m also constantly looking around, for anything that strikes me as interesting. 
I only ventured off the boardwalk and onto the beach once, when it was a shitty mid-week day - cloudy, chilly, few people - and actually, the change of vantage point was a breath of fresh air. While the boardwalk is a very public space, the beach, at least on this day, was a much more private affair.

 

I just wanted to find a funny moment with a dog on a bench. For some stupid reason, I’ve been slightly obsessed with finding that particular shot. When I think to myself, “Hmm, what’s one bench image I don’t have yet?, I think ‘funny shot of dog on a bench.’” And I’ve seen more than a few - dogs on benches, I mean; but not a funny dog on a bench. They’re always kind of boring. There’s never a story behind the shot. Like this one. I want to like it, but it just falls short. I stood in front of these people for a minute or two, pretending to look around at other things, waiting for something magical to happen, but it just never did. And then I started to feel overly intrusive, so I had to move along. The images that always seem to suggest the most interesting stories are the ones I don’t imagine at all, but rather, just stumble upon. I guess there’s a lesson there. But I’m going to keep looking for that dog shot, anyway. Gotta get it out of my system. And a person with a giant stuffed animal prize. That’s another one. Just so obvious, but still…