Coney Island, 1999
The first time I visited New York I was seventeen, had recently seen The Warriors, and visiting Coney Island was an almost-holy pilgrimage. So I took the F train all the way down there from mid-town by myself which felt pretty tough at the time. It was winter, and the amusement park area was all but abandoned. I wandered around the freezing boardwalk with my Canon TX, in awe of it's tattered splendor. It was unlike anywhere I had ever been - a true American wilderness of cultural detritus. The following fall I moved to Brooklyn for school, and would visit Coney Island every few months with my camera.
Like most great places, Coney Island's fate seems to always be hanging in the balance. Somehow, through fires, threats of development, falling out of fashion and general disintigration, it tenaciously holds on, clinging like a glittery barnacle to the bottom of Brooklyn. Long may it live.