Work Space

I was really poor back then.

I lived out of my car for a few days to get my bearings. I had to go. I was young, and you only live once. Right? New York. Brooklyn. It gets under your skin. There is something about that city. And there is something about moving there with nothing and knowing that anything could come true. There is something about being on the train and seeing all of that humanity. All of that culture. And know they are all doing it. Making it happen one day at a time.

I lived in a warehouse in Williamsburg. I didn't have any heat and it was a cold winter. I rented a work space and I wasn't really allowed to live there so the whole thing was sort of sneaky and adventurous. The landlord would knock on my door at 2:00 AM because he saw the lights on and wondered if anyone was there. I would have to wake up and rush to the door and act like I was in the middle of some large project and was pulling an all nighter. He knew what was up. I was really poor back then.

There was no shower, and the toilet was down the hallway. I showered at the Metropolitan gym ten blocks away. So needless to say I didn't shower every day. As I said earlier it got cold that winter. In the teens. I had plastic wrap for window pains. My dad had given me an old military sleeping bag, and that was the only thing that kept me from freezing to death that winter. Literally. I had all of my kitchen supplies in a big blue plastic Rubbermaid box. It doubled as my only piece of furniture. I could sit on it, and use it as a table. I had a hot plate in it, and ate noodles and tuna almost every meal.

Sometimes I was so broke that I walked around the block looking for change in order to get something to eat. I had such faith in my purpose and reason for being that I felt that I would always be taken care of. And I was. When I looked for change I always found it. Always enough to get by. Always enough to make it through to the next day. I was really poor back then.

I was so alive back then.

My New York Photos