All Photos © Joe DiMaggio

I don’t remember who the writer was who said you can never go home again. Whoever wrote it was certainly right.  I was born and bred in the West Village on 63 Carmine street.  At the ripe old age of four, I went to NYU for the first time to see my father graduate.  This was of course, after he served 4 years in the U. S. Army Air Force as a waist gunner on b-17 flying fortress. With the combination of “the rent being too high” and 9/11, JoAnne and I made a decision to no longer keep our studio space full time in Manhattan.  I must say, we still consider ourselves NYC photographers as it was our original base.

We have a dear friend who is an entertainer by the name of Ronny Whyte who was playing at Pangea in New York this past Wednesday and we decided to go in to see him perform.  I took advantage of the time there to revisit my old neighborhood and take some of the rust off my street photography.  Twenty five years ago, I was quite good at street photography – not sure I am anymore!  If you don’t use it – you lose it!  Washington Square really did not change much since I was there last.  Great music, people playing sports, lovers and families, dogs and people of all ages just enjoying being outdoors.  On our way to the East Village we bumped into the NYU Stern business school’s pro Palestinian demonstration.  My blog is not about politics.  Did I say that?  I’m pro Israel and at the same time I’m not against Palestine and I’m certainly anti-Hamas!  For all the years I’ve been to Israel my brothers and sisters would say they are all cousins and I sometimes can’t tell them apart.  However, the terrorists are different!  Over many years of being a photojournalist, I’ve only been stopped maybe 3 or 4 times either by security, the military, or the police. I’ve never once been stopped by a 19 or 20 year old child who got in my face on a  New York City sidewalk which is known as a public conveyance.  If you’re on the sidewalk you may be photographed for better or worse. If I was to photograph someone and was invading their personal space I would stop.  However, it was funny because these people were demonstrating but yet did not want to be photographed?  To have some little shit challenge me was unacceptable by anyone’s standards.  We stared at each other for maybe 2 minutes and with his mask on, I could only see his eyes.  There was no doubt he was not Palestinian or an Israeli!  He probably was not an NYU student or for that matter not even American!  I decided not to cause a riot at my father’s former alma mater.  I believe in the first amendment of free speech and believe I also have a right to make photographs.   A half block away there were three police officers and a Sergeant.  I asked the Sergeant his thoughts about me making a photograph on the street and he said of course it was okay.  I casually mentioned the fact that I was blocked by their umbrellas several times.  The Sergeant offered to escort me back to make some photos.  At that point I said no.  We spoke for 5 minutes. The irony was the Sergeant happened to be a muslim Arab.  There is no doubt, my father is rolling over in his grave.  My dad had a doctorate degree.  If he was there and that piece of shit blocked him or got in his face, I’m pretty sure he would have bitch slapped him and God knows what would have happened after that.  I guess I did not inherit all my fathers nerve and we’re living in a different time.  I’m sharing some photos of my day.  It’s been a while since I posted a blog.  

Later in the evening we enjoyed listening to Ronny Whyte along with the two talented musician who accompanied him.  It was also good getting together at the club with friends Steve, Mary, Diane, Quinn, and Errol. Ronny is a great entertainer.   An added bonus all around Pangea was to seeing so many framed beautiful Alan Kaplan pastels adorning the walls.