Three scenes along the way. (City on Film).

I went out to take pictures, this time with my Yashica Electro 35 G camera from around 1968, a wonderful machine whose capabilities are evident in these images. Although I generally always start with a preliminary idea, it’s the journey itself and the sights I encounter along the way that determine the direction I take. This time I explored three different settings, each with its own unique atmosphere, which I present in this post.

First scene: The nurses’ strike.

I passed by the Presbyterian Hospital complex. The nurses have been on strike for quite some time, demanding better wages and working conditions. A large group was gathered in front of one of the hospitals, chanting slogans, receiving support from passersby, and informing people about their demands as part of the negotiations between the union and the hospital corporations. Visitors from abroad should know that in the United States, the healthcare system is not public and is in the hands of various private corporations and entities.

I took this picture at the first stop, after expressing my solidarity with the strikers.

Second scene: Downtown in the mist.

I walked a long way to get to Riverside, on the banks of the Hudson River on the western edge of Manhattan. Since I was in the Upper West Side, the northern part of Manhattan, I could see Midtown and Downtown with their cluster of skyscrapers and financial towers. The day was cold, the sky was covered with gray clouds, and a ghostly mist hung in the air, creating a veil that obscured the bustling energy, the frenetic pace, and the extreme contrasts of the city.

Third scene: Art by the tracks.

I continued north and passed by the small red lighthouse and under the George Washington Bridge. I took some photos there, but I’ll save them for another post. I spotted a steep, old, and solitary path I had never taken before, with a small wooden bridge that crosses over the train tracks. From the bridge, I looked down at the tracks, whose edges were adorned with graffiti painted who knows when. A strange feeling, a mix of the solitude of the moment, the cold, the intention of an artist who wanted to leave their mark by the side of the tracks, the dormant rails, bearing witness to the eventual passage of life’s activity, and a fence to prevent suicides. This was the last shot that day.