It wasn’t until after I captured this moment that I truly grasped its meaning. New York City remains unmatched—the most extraordinary city on Earth. Even if the entire financial district were erased, it wouldn’t diminish the heartbeat of this vibrant metropolis. I’m endlessly grateful to have called it home in my twenties during the early 2000s—a time that profoundly shaped me and my love for this city.

New year, new promises: more single-photo request posts ahead. No more Zuck.

This year I wanted to do something a little different for the Holidays! Over the summer Jalen and I spent some time playing basketball in London.  We had a blast and I took about a million photos.  These are just a few!  Each mini-book is unique and the sets are limited to 5!  Each box will be custom-packed with other goodies for the holidays!   Get your box here! 

1 Deck of playing cards

4 Coasters 

1 Lighter 

1 Mini book

Other goodies :) 

If you haven’t seen the Netflix Documentary, The Comeback, I highly recommend it. The TLDR is that the Boston Red Sox came back to beat the Yankees in the ALCS in 2004 after being down 3 games.   I digress.   Mid August 2001 I hatched a plan to travel to Europe, I even bought my tickets at the internet cafe in Times Square, and I paid for a one-hour session.  Germany seemed cool but there was a great deal to fly to Amsterdam on September 11, 2001, flying out of Toronto at 8 am.  My homie Mike was going to drive me to the airport.  Needless to say, that flight didn’t happen.  The next day I was able to fly to Germany and for the sake of keeping on topic, thats where I will leave my trip to Europe.   Flash forward to early March and I am back in NYC and need some work.  Somehow I came across Tennessee Mountain, an old BBQ rib restaurant in SoHo.  Old-school NYC people know the spot.  Amazing chili, ribs, cheap drinks, a thick layer of grease on everything, and the feeling that the place was about to collapse at any minute.  Since waiting tables wasn’t really my bag, I took the easiest morning shift possible so I could get my photo hustle on as soon as I could.  On my first day there, I met a slightly chubby dude wearing a Boston Red Sox hat named David working the bar.  A few days later I took a night shift that Dave was also on so we had a chance to close together.  That’s when we realized a mutual love of hip-hop.  Come to find out Dave is an aspiring rapper from Boston, and goes by One Dae. Turns out dude is pretty good.  Within weeks we got to be pretty close and collaborate on art, compare conspiracy theories over spliffs, play basketball, and talk about sports.  Despite living in NYC Dave being from Boston was still a Red Sox and Pat’s fan.  Enter Game 7 of the ALCS.  Since we are super smaart ( Boston accent ) we decided to watch the game at a well-known Boston bar in the Village, McSorleys Ale House. We had an absolute blast. Sox win an amazing game and we are soaked in beer, but now have to get out of the bar and get home.  Dave is wearing a Red Sox hat.  Thankfully the NYC police were there to escort the fans, including us in the bar away from the 6th Ave chaos.  It was hilarious.  My fav insult from a Yankees fan to me, who was just there to watch, I don’t root for either team, “bro, I will see you around town”  Like, really?  This is NYC, you prolly won’t see me again, homie, lol.  It was a great memory, one that I love to tell.  Time went on and Dave and I had a falling out.  It’s not important why.  That’s not what the post is about.  

It was this time last year I got the word that Dave had passed away in Oregon.  We were the same age, it was a real surprise.  At one point Dave was Golden Glove’s contender and trained at Gleason’s.  It had been a few months since we spoke, and when we did the common ground was hip-hop, sports, and conspiracy theories.  When I left NYC in 2003 to go back to school, Dave came up to visit.  He was my good homie, as an only child, I don’t say this lightly but for a few years, he was as close to a brother as I could imagine.

  As I get ready to mail these prints to Daves’s mom and look over all the photos I took of him and all my homies from the last 30 years, I am compelled to say.. reach out to your friends simply.  Now.  Today.  Not next week, don’t wait for them to call you, you make the call, call your friends and tell them you love them, share a memory, vent, crack a joke.  Don’t wait for them to post on Facebook or IG.  Call your homies, and text your bros.  I wish I had more stories to share. What better time than now to start making them.  Dave was a talented rapper and savvy businessman.  I am happy to have called David Tracy my friend.  Rest in Power.  

One Dae 

Music 

Exploring the Colorful Ruins of Turntable Junction: A Glimpse into Abandoned Americana

Nestled in the heart of Flemington, New Jersey, lies a hidden gem of nostalgia and decay—Turntable Junction. Once a bustling hub of activity, this abandoned site tells a story of small-town America, vibrant with life, that has now faded into a tapestry of colors and memories. As I wandered through this fascinating space, I couldn’t help but feel a deep connection to its past.

Turntable Junction was once a lively gathering place, characterized by its distinctive architecture, mom and pop shops, and lively atmosphere. It served as a crossroads for both locals and visitors, bringing together a community that thrived on connection and commerce. Over the years, however, as trends shifted and the economy changed, this once-thriving junction fell into neglect, leaving behind a haunting yet beautiful reminder of what it once was.

The Beauty of Decay

What struck me most about Turntable Junction was its vibrant colors juxtaposed against the decay. Nature has begun to reclaim the space, intertwining itself with the remnants of buildings and structures. Graffiti artists have added their own flair, turning the peeling paint and crumbling walls into a canvas of creativity. The bright hues of spray paint breathe life into the decay, creating a striking contrast that captures the imagination.

As I strolled through the overgrown paths and explored the empty spaces, I was met with a poignant blend of sadness and beauty. It’s a reminder of the impermanence of life and the ever-evolving nature of community spaces. Each corner I turned unveiled new sights—a rusty old sign, a faded mural, or the remnants of a once-bustling storefront—all whispering stories of days gone by.

A Reflection on Small-Town America

Turntable Junction stands as a testament to the ideals of small-town America. It represents the charm, character, and sense of community that once thrived in places like Flemington. In its heyday, it was a gathering spot where neighbors shared stories, kids played, and dreams were nurtured. Now, as I walked its silent streets, I reflected on the evolution of such spaces and the importance of preserving our local history.

While Turntable Junction may be in a state of decay, it still holds immense potential. As we witness the rise of urban exploration and the appreciation for forgotten places, I believe it’s crucial to find ways to honor and rejuvenate such sites. Whether through preservation efforts, artistic endeavors, or community initiatives, we can breathe new life into these spaces, ensuring that they continue to tell their stories for generations to come.

If you ever find yourself in Flemington, take a moment to visit Turntable Junction. Embrace the beauty of its decay and reflect on the vibrant community that once thrived there. Who knows what stories await you in its colorful ruins?

Hard to describe the feeling I get this time of year when the leaves start to change.  It’s a sense of urgency and attraction that is tough to quell.  It’s a must-have, the color is the it thing, that object that you just must posses.  But, you can not posses it.  There is nothing you can do with the beauty other than behold, take it in.  Admire the beauty in breakdown, the color of change.  

Always ready with the Minutemen

We had a chacne to jump the pond and play some basketball in London over the summer.  I’m hype to share more photos and some exclusive prints to match, stay tuned.

My real bad.  I have meant to blog.  I have so muh to share, lots happening, times they are a changing.  Speaking of which, see the black pants photo?  Those are just SOME of the pairs of black pants I burned through over the last few years.  In total, I would say that I have used 50 - 60 pairs of pants for weddings.  They don’t last long.

There are many universal truths. Here’s one: Hard work equals success.  Put the time in and you will see results.  These young men work hard. Daily. And it shows.  #alwaysready with The Lower Bucks Minutemen  A great program for anyone serious about success. 

I had the honor of photographing the women who organize and run the Stoutsburg Sourland

African American Museum.