When I was 18, an inheritance from my father changed my life. It allowed me to purchase a Pentax K1000 camera, even though I knew nothing about photography. A close friend had recently purchased a 35mm camera, and I was captivated by its feel in my hands.
Growing up in the heart of the South Bronx, surrounded by a vibrant Puerto Rican community, was formative. After my father’s passing when I was five, my mother and I moved to a small apartment there so she could be near family. Summer days were alive with the sounds of domino games, congas, and laughter. Every bodega pulsated with the rhythm of Spanish conversation – the language my parents had always spoken.
Around 1968 or 69, a shift occurred. Buildings began to stand vacant, victims of landlords who cut services, hoping to force out tenants. Arson became rampant; insurance payouts proved more lucrative than rent. By 1979, when I purchased my camera, the fires were beginning to subside. Yet, the Bronx bore the heavy mantle of poverty in America, though our community remained resilient.
My fingertips first grazed the camera’s shutter release to capture my friends — the young men I shared laughter, highs, and mischief with. Initially, they mocked me, playfully dubbing me “Jimmy Olsen,” a Superman sidekick forever chasing the ultimate photograph. But eventually, they grew accustomed to my lens, unknowingly becoming part of a visual narrative that evolved through their presence. Later, photographer Mel Rosenthal would teach me to frame them within the context of our environment. History was unfolding around us, and I was determined to capture our insider’s view.
My lens now focused on Carlos and Boogie on the 6 train. Carlos had been my first friend in the apartment building where my journey began. People often thought of us as brothers, bound by countless explorations and rooftop adventures. His infectious laughter mingled with the clatter of toy soldiers as we painted our childhood dreams.
However, by 1984, when this photo was taken, Carlos was battling a creeping melancholy. He had recently returned from the army, and something about the experience seemed to have broken him. While the specifics remained shrouded, the pain was palpable – a perpetual shadow reflected in his solemn expression. It marked the beginning of his descent into drug use. Heroin eventually claimed him in an overdose, a devastating outcome. As children, we both detested addicts and swore to steer clear of that world. Its grip terrified us. Carlos’s demise was a sharp, agonizing blow.
Meanwhile, Boogie remained Boogie, the ever-present comedian of the group. He, too, joined the army but emerged unchanged, still capable of summoning laughter with a twirl or a grin. This photograph captured him mid-twirl on the grimy, graffiti-laden walls of a subway car as we journeyed downtown for a double feature. My camera was always an extension of myself,
those subway trains were constantly adorned with vibrant expressions of urban art. They were canvases for defiance, constantly challenged by the Transit Authority’s futile attempts to erase them. Fresh coats of paint would inevitably be met with a resurgence of tags, each one a declaration of resilience. Graffiti artists readily recognize the names documented in my photos. One prominent tag belongs to Zephyr, whose artistry has since taken him to galleries worldwide. You can spot his distinctive signature right above Boogie.
Many of my earliest photographs, including valuable color images, have been lost to time and circumstance. Yet, a collection endured. Compiling these lost moments into a book became a cherished act of remembrance. Some of my friends reacted with overwhelming emotion upon revisiting these visual echoes of their past. I sent Boogie a copy, and he discovered it on his porch after a grueling night shift. The sight of familiar faces sparked such joy that he woke his wife to share the discovery.
My journey as a photographer began in the heart of the Bronx, transcending the lens to capture the spirit of a community facing adversity and resilience. These photographs are more than just images; they are fragments of memory, testaments to the enduring bonds of friendship, and portals to a bygone era. They remind us of the power of photography to document history, preserve stories, and connect generations.
Industrial subway train, his vibrant energy cutting through the surrounding gloom. He embodied the spirit of resilience that defined our community. With his dapper clothing and infectious smile, Boogie represented hope, a stark contrast to the encroaching shadows that loomed over us.
As I snapped the shutter, I felt a sense of urgency to document the camaraderie and struggles we faced. With each click, I wasn’t just capturing moments; I was preserving the essence of our lives—joy intertwined with pain, laughter mixed with heartache. These images served as both a tribute to my friends and a stark reminder of the challenges posed by our environment.
The Bronx during that time was a crucible of creativity and despair, where art flourished amidst adversity. I found solace behind the camera, using it as a tool to explore and express the nuances of our daily existence. Photography became my language, a means to articulate narratives that often went unheard. In capturing Carlos and Boogie, I was weaving a tapestry of memories—a visual history anchored in our shared experiences.
Yet, in the backdrop of our joyous moments lingered the reality of loss. Carlos’s struggles were not isolated incidents; many of our peers wrestled with the demons of addiction, aiming for escapism in a world that felt increasingly alien. Each laugh we shared with Boogie served as a fleeting respite from the weight of grief that accompanied Carlos’s fate.
As I continued to photograph the world around me, I understood that these images would not merely represent snapshots of time; they would tell stories. Years later, as I reflect on that picture of Boogie mid-twirl, I’m reminded of the fragility of happiness and the urgent need to hold onto these moments. The laughter, the camaraderie, and the tragic undertones all coexist beautifully in the photographs I took, urging me to bear witness to the life around me—a life filled with resilience, love, pain, and hope. Each photograph stands as a testament to our shared humanity, echoing the vibrant, complex world we navigated in the South Bronx.