Old Mastic House


April 13 marks the birth of Thomas Jefferson (1743-1826). He was a Founding Father, one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and the owner of Monticello, a southern plantation worked by slaves. There are, of course, many other aspects of his life that have made him a complex historical figure.

Up north, there was William Floyd (1734-1821). Like Jefferson, Floyd was also a Founding Father and a Declaration signer. His plantation in Mastic, New York, was also worked by slaves. But, unlike Jefferson, much of Floyd’s life remains shrouded in mystery.

During the Revolutionary War, the British commandeered the plantation while Floyd and his family sought refuge in Connecticut. As a result, his personal effects were destroyed leaving only the barest traces of Floyd’s history.

What is known, however, is that Jefferson visited Floyd at his plantation’s Old Mastic House. One can visit the house today, go on a tour, and step through the same rooms that both of these influential leaders walked in. Floyd was a general in the Revolutionary War and served under George Washington. Jefferson would go on to become the third president of the United States. James Madison succeeded Jefferson as the fourth president and he, too, visited Floyd at Old Mastic House.

By 1810, Floyd had five slaves remaining. Within six years of his death, slavery was outlawed in the state of New York. By the time of Jefferson’s death in 1826, his estate still had well over one hundred slaves. His home state of Virginia would not come to abolish slavery until 1865.

This image has been widely exhibited. A few of the venues it has appeared in include the Fraunces Tavern Museum in New York City, the Long Island Museum in Stony Brook, and the U.S. Customs House in Philadelphia.

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Cathedral of St. John the Divine


For some, Easter is not complete without attending a church service. For the Episcopal church in Morningside Heights, commonly known as St. John’s, that sense of incompleteness has lingered for well over a century.

Construction of the church began in 1892 and the first service was held in 1899. And, yet, the structure remains unfinished. The delay in building the remaining one-third of the church has been caused by a combination of design changes, lack of funding, and other logistical challenges.

One example can be seen in the photograph above. The southern tower – designed to house a bell – is cut off from its intended height. Construction of the tower began in 1982 and was halted in the early 1990s due to a scarcity of both funding and skilled labor. Indeed, an English stonemason actually had to be brought to teach the ancient art of stone carving to young unskilled workers drawn from the community.

On the left is a sculpture of Michael the Archangel, which is part of the Peace Fountain that was constructed in 1985. And in the church’s grand tradition of incompletion, to date, there is still no water in the fountain. The sculpture is a mélange of giraffes, Satan’s decapitated head, a giant crab claw, a gazelle, the double helix of DNA, and smaller statues made by children. As if that is not odd enough, the grounds by the fountain are known to have live peacocks, including an all-white one, roaming around.

I processed this image not long after I created the initial photograph in 2019. But it is only now that it is being publicly seen and made available as a print.

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Street Photography: 200 West 14th Street

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It’s been a while since I have posted any street photography work.  It’s easy to get backed up especially as I was starting a new National Park Service commission that gave rise to some artistic and technical challenges.  Now that so much of the world is under some sort of quarantine, the commission is on hold and I’ve had time to catch up on previous work.

This was a photograph I made about a month ago.  I was walking along West 14th Street, which I had not been to in quite some time. Many years ago when I was working in the music industry, I actually had a small office space toward the end of this street.  It was in a loft where a client — the Record Pool Business Center (RPBC) — was based.  The record companies furnished RPBC with their latest dance music vinyl releases. RPBC, in turn, distributed these records to their DJ members.  The DJs played the music at their night clubs, radio programs, and events, and furnished RPBC with audience feedback that was then reported to the record companies for marketing purposes.  The cycle of this ecosystem served all the parties well in the days before recorded music started migrating online.

The neighborhood is different from what it was in those days.  But there are some spots, like the building above, that have remained largely the same for over a hundred years.  What has changed is me.  When I walked down West 14th Street back in my music business days, I was walking with a purpose. I had a meeting to get to, I was walking and talking with a client, or I was rushing back home after midnight.

Last month, though, it was broad daylight and I had time to observe my surroundings.  That’s when I passed by number 200.  I caught a glance of it within the periphery of my vision.  It’s easy to miss as it is tucked in between two garish retail stores.  Perhaps that’s why, in an effort to compete for attention, the entranceway to the building was painted bright red — a color I doubt was original to the building.  The conspicousness of the red is only matched by the twin statues framing the door.  It was such a peculiar sight that I started to think how it might make for an interesting photograph.  A few doorways down, I came to a dead stop and immediately — without bothering to turn myself around — sped-walked in reverse.

I got the photograph I wanted, but it’s only now that I finally had an opportunity to do a little checking to find out more about this unusual structure.  The five story brick residential building was constructed in 1889 in a style that was common in France at the time.  Indeed, the building is named The Jeanne d’Arc, in honor of the teenager who led the French army in battle against the English in the 15th century.  She was later captured, burned at the stake, and canonized as a Roman Catholic saint in 1920. I did not think to look toward the upper stories of the facade, as I often do, but a white statue of her is set between two windows on the third floor.

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One of my father’s caryatids.

The sculptures that I did notice were the ones gracing each side of the doorway although I chose to only depict one in the photograph.  I have come to learn that these are called caryatids.  Adopted from ancient Greek architecture, they serve as a more decorative version of the pillars and columns used to support the horizontal beam — or entablature — that rests on their heads. The typical caryatid, unlike what is seen on The Jeanne d’Arc, is a complete female body draped in a full length garment called a peplos.

That bit of information enhanced my appreciation of two wooden carved pieces measuring close to three feet in height that I have in my studio. They belonged to my father, who reproduced one-of-a-kind antique chairs for a variety of clients that included Chris Jussel (later cast as the original host of PBS’s Antiques Roadshow).  These pieces, which appear to be made of oak or ash, were handcarved by one of my father’s colleagues.  I think his name was Giuliano, a talented Italian immigrant who worked out of his basement shop in his Brooklyn home.

These were either sample pieces or leftovers from a job that my father could not bear to discard.  So they have lived with the family for at least 40 years.  In all that time, I did not know until now that they are caryatids.  It provokes a hazy memory of my father explaining that they were designed for use in supporting a table top.

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Big Ben’s Rainbow


I was in London to meet with the cultural attaché of the U.S. Embassy to the United Kingdom. He expressed interest in presenting a solo exhibition of my photography at a new building that was to be constructed at Nine Elms.

While there, I also visited the National Poetry Library to explore the possibility of exhibiting my photographs of the Longfellow House. And I finally got to meet Sapna Dhandh-Sharma, the Editor of the UK-based Aspect Ratio magazine, who published my photographs of the slave cemetery at the William Floyd estate along with my 5,000-word essay.

When I was not busy investigating opportunities to extend the reach of my art, I walked around London to do a bit of street photography. For me, walking around aimlessly and avoiding the touristy spots is an interesting way to explore the city and to learn about its people. It did not take long to realize that being in London is certainly a very different experience than New York City, although the two do share some common attributes.

As much as I made a deliberate attempt to avoid the icons of London, it seemed like they have a magnetism that pulled me in their direction nonetheless. I had no idea where I was in the city, but it was one of the more crowded areas I had been to that day. The rain was clearing up and I was busy creating esoteric images – photographs of tightly cropped street elements and reflections off of bus windshields that resulted in abstractions.

I was using a large DSLR camera rather than the smaller and stealthy one that I typically use when I am photographing on the streets of New York City. This time, however, the presence of a big conspicuous camera and lens was an advantage. Lost in what I was doing, an Irishman saw me, got my attention, and urged me to turn around.

And there it was. Not just Big Ben. But Big Ben with a big rainbow. The prismatic arc was one of the largest, brightest, and longest-lasting I had ever seen. The sunlight and inclement sky seemed to create a mash-up resulting in this very unusually colored background while the clock tower shone as if it was cast in solid gold.

The digital negative of this image has been lying dormant on my hard drive for years. So, this is the first time it is being seen and made available as a print.

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Quabbin Reservoir


April is a rainy month. And that got me thinking about my photographs of the New England National Scenic Trail, which is more commonly known as simply the New England Trail. The collection was commissioned by the U.S. National Park Service, the Appalachian Mountain Club, and the Connecticut Forest and Park Association.

I always chuckle to myself when I recall the day I arrived to photograph the trail by the Quabbin Reservoir in Massachusetts. I was carrying my camera, tripod, and a large backpack with lots of other gear. It was April 2 and, true to the month’s character, it was extremely overcast and storm clouds were threatening to launch an offense.

A reservoir employee spied my approach and, as I got closer, she ruefully commented, “Too bad the weather isn’t better for your photography.” Contrary to her concern, I was very glad for the bad conditions as it often creates some very dramatic moments that are ripe for my camera.

I was ready with a rain poncho, hood, and gloves with the fingertips cut off so that I can work my camera’s controls. The preparation paid off. This photograph was created not long after I received my lamentful greeting. The curve of the clouds mirrors the curve of the tree’s canopy. Together with the mists in the background, it makes for a very ethereal and sublime moment. This image has never been exhibited and has not been available as a print until now.

Indeed, I experienced the full range of nature’s temperament that day. It not only rained, but it later hailed aggressively. My patience was rewarded that afternoon when the sun burst through the clouds and painted a double rainbow.

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Longfellow’s Evangeline


April is National Poetry Month. So, what better way for poetry lovers to celebrate than with this photograph, which has never been printed or exhibited before.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-82) had a ritual of saving the pencil that he used to compose a poem, which he kept with a handwritten note to document the occasion.
When I was commissioned by the U.S. National Park Service to create an artistic photographic collection of Longfellow’s home in Cambridge, Massachusetts, I was given access to these pencils. They are stored in the archives and not typically out for public view. So, it was a rare opportunity to photograph them.

The pencil that remains is a short stub. And no wonder. Evangeline, composed in 1847, was well over 15,000 words. It was a hit in its time and is among Longfellow’s most famous works. Evangeline’s length did not deter readers in an age when there was no internet, television, or the myriad of other entertainment sources we have today.

The poem is a historical romance of an Acadian girl named Evangeline and her search for Gabriel, her lover. The Acadian people lived in the region of present-day Nova Scotia, New Brunswick, Prince Edward Island, and northern Maine. The Acadians were expelled from the land by the British during the French and Indian War (1755-64).

Evangeline is too long to quote here. But you can get a sense of Longfellow’s florid prose from the opening paragraph:

This is the forest primeval.
The murmuring pines and the hemlocks,
Bearded with moss, and in garments green,
indistinct in the twilight,
Stand like Druids of eld,
with voices sad and prophetic,
Stand like harpers hoar,
with beards that rest on their bosoms.
Loud from its rocky caverns,
the deep-voiced neighboring ocean
Speaks, and in accents disconsolate
answers the wail of the forest.

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The Suffragents: How Women Used Men to Get the Vote

unnamedMarch is Women’s History Month, and 2020 marks the 100th anniversary of the ratification of the 19th Amendment to the U.S. Constitution granting women the right to vote. The movement to win voting rights for women (commonly known as the women’s suffrage movement) had its roots in Seneca Falls, New York, at a convention held in 1848.  Although this was not the first time that politically active women rallied together to drive change, this was the catalyst that caused the movement for women’s suffrage to take off and become a force to be reckoned with.

So historically significant was this convention that on December 28, 1980, Congress established Women’s Rights National Historical Park in Seneca Falls to preserve the site and the history that was created there. So I was honored when the park invited me to present three annual solo exhibitions leading up to this year’s centennial.

My first exhibition was presented in 2018 and centered on Theodosia Ford (1741-1824), an unsung heroine of the American Revolutionary War. Ford opened up her home to serve as George Washington’s military headquarters for which she endured much hardship as a widow with several children.

I selected 12 photographs from a collection of almost 100 that I created under a commission from the National Park Service. Each print was accompanied by a compelling narrative I wrote. The events and dates were factual, but I presented Ford’s story as an imagined diary to dramatize what she might have felt during this very difficult time in history. The exhibition was covered by several media outlets and benefited from the park’s peak attendance during the summer months.

Exhibit Announcement

I then spent many additional months and expense researching, writing, printing, matting, and framing photographs and wall cards for the 2019 exhibition. This one was going to focus on the abolitionist aspects of the women’s rights movement.

Simultaneously, I initiated the research and preparation for the 2020 exhibition, which led me to The Suffragents:  How Women Used Men to Get the Vote by Brooke Kroeger. I was fascinated by the title and the unsung history it presented. Before I read The Suffragents, I knew very little about the history of women’s suffrage. All I knew was that it was a movement for social change that resulted in women earning the right to vote.

I was unaware of the major role that the New York captains of industry — all male — played as both leaders and supporters of the women who directed them. The men began their campaign secretly behind the scenes forming the Men’s League for Women’s Suffrage. They used their money, their power, and their voices. They worked tirelessly and were ridiculed for the part they played. In the end, their collaboration with the women successfully influenced politicians, the press, and the public.

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George Francis Train – one of the “suffragents.”

Brooke Kroeger’s writing style kept me engaged. Although the book was extremely detailed, it read like a story not like a history textbook. The reading experience turned out to be a pleasant surprise. It was a captivating story with a very happy ending. The book won the Gold Medal in US History in the 2018 Independent Publisher Book Awards and was a finalist for the 2018 Sally and Morris Lasky Prize of the Center for Political History. 

Brooke Kroeger is a professor of journalism at the New York University Arthur L. Carter Journalism Institute. In 2007, she founded NYU’s Global and Joint Program Studies and is the current director. She is an accomplished journalist and has written five books. Her latest achievement is a volume of essays she co-edited with Linda Steiner and Carolyn Kitch called Front Pages, Front Lines:  Media and the Fight for Women’s Suffrage.

Inspired by her book, my plan for 2020 was to gather high resolution digital scans of historical photographic portraits of the men she wrote about. Prior to going into photography, I had studied painting in college. So my thought was to combine the two disciplines by digitally painting over the portraits with splashes of color, patterns, symbols, and other expressionistic and abstract touches to bring these dour images to life. Excited by the new dimension this would add to my art, I purchased the necessary hardware and software and started gathering the digital portraits from various archival sources. Unfortunately, this project was not to be.

As I did for my first exhibition in 2018 about Theodosia Ford, I contacted the park to make sure all was set for my next exhibition in 2019. About a month before the installation, their superintendent sent me an email confirming that the exhibition was a go — this one was to be themed on abolition.  The drive from my studio to Seneca Falls is several hundred miles and takes about six hours.  So, when I arrived, I was stunned to be greeted by a confused staff who claimed they had no idea to expect my arrival to install the exhibition.

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W.C.B. Du Bois – another prominent “suffragent.”

To make a long story short, they claimed that the superintendent was on leave and under investigation. Under those circumstances, she had no authority to issue an email on behalf of the park to confirm my exhibit. When I pressed the issue, the acting superintendent corroborated what I heard from the staff. But everyone was mum on details and were not open to working out a solution.

As a lawyer, I know a lot about how investigations are conducted. All of the superintendent’s emails would have been read and my arrival would have been anticipated. Yet, no effort was made to alert me so as to avoid the time, fuel, tolls, meals, hotel, and production expenses that I incurred and that went unreimbursed. And there were several media outlets that had already publicly announced the event. This happened in 2019 and, to date, I have not heard anything further from Women’s Rights National Historical Park.

What is really disappointing, though, is for this to happen during the once-in-a-lifetime celebration of the centennial. This could have been an interpretative goldmine for the park and for the public. And it’s a shame that I was not able to incorporate the little-known history so wonderfully presented in Brooke Kroeger’s book, The Suffragents.

However, we can make the best of the situation — particularly given the extra time and boredom the pandemic has imposed upon many of us — by ordering a copy of this book. It is a fitting way to honor and celebrate the many people — women and men — that have contributed to the civil rights that were established a century ago.

Linda Ruder assisted with the preparation of this article.

Spectacle Island


One of the many things I enjoy doing with my photography is to reveal places that are not always very well known. When people think about the National Park Service (NPS), places out west like the Grand Canyon, Yellowstone, and Yosemite are often the first parks that come to mind.

But the NPS is far richer than that with many other beautiful sites in the northeast. One of those is Boston Harbor Islands National Recreation Area.

Many people are not aware that there are over 30 islands in the harbor. Each one has an interesting history and topography.

Spectacle Island was named for its original appearance as a pair of eyeglasses – two hills joined by a spit of land in between. The island has the highest point in the harbor, which can be explored through five miles of trails.

A pleasant ferry ride to this island is rewarded by breathtaking ocean views of the Boston skyline and other islands. Colorful plants and flowers are now part of the scenery.

Before reaching its present state, the island had a checkered past. A gambling site, a horse rendering plant, a trash incinerator, and a dump were among its prior incarnations.

…and if anyone can identify this delicately reddish grass for me, it would be greatly appreciated.

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Sunning Cormorant


Spring is in the air and my thoughts rested on this photograph I created during a month-long residency at Florida’s Big Cypress National Preserve.

I was there for the month of March, which is particularly mild in Florida. Yet, this cormorant seemed to be beckoning the sun and the transition to a warmer season.

Being somewhat of a city slicker, I don’t know much about such birds or other wildlife. So the photograph provoked me to find out more. After diving into the water to hunt for fish and other small aquatic creatures, cormorants characteristically hold out their wings to dry out in the sun.

These birds are pretty big having a wing span of between 18 to 39 inches (45 to 100 centimeters). Seeing this large bird perched upon the top of the seemingly slender-looking limbs got my attention.

This photograph has never been exhibited or published in the media. But it’s one of my favorites. I have a large print of it in my dining room.

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“Hi” from Royalston Falls


The 215-mile New England Trail (NET) goes through Connecticut and continues north through Royalston Falls in Massachusetts along the New Hampshire border.

Many are familiar with the Appalachian Trail, but the NET is a relatively new addition to the National Park Service (NPS). Now in its 11th year, the trail is yet to be discovered by hikers and casual walkers.

So I was pleased to be invited by the New England Camera Club Council to present a series of talks about the NET at their 75th annual conference at the University of Massachusetts Amherst.

The NPS, the Appalachian Mountain Club, and the Connecticut Forest and Park Association invited me to take on a year-long commission to photograph key areas of the trail.

Having photographed the NET’s southernmost end in Guilford, Connecticut, I worked my way up to the trail’s other end in Royalston Falls, Massachusetts.

I try to avoid the habit of only creating landscapes. There is more to see than just what’s ahead. So I make an effort to stay aware of what is above and what is under my feet.

While hiking through the woods, I happened to look down and spotted this anthropomorphic birch tree limb. This friendly cyclops was just lying there with his arm upraised to greet me during my first visit to Royalston Falls.

Or so I like to think. Perhaps I was disturbing his rest and he was actually waving me away to “get lost.”

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