Uptown Bound – 2006 show, press release (longer version)

The view from W.T.C Observation deck #1, 1994





Uptown bound

I began studying photography in 1993. From the beginning I was attracted to the lights and shadows created by subway architecture, especially the way the roofs of cars and tracks are bathed in light from the street. I always marveled at the effects so produced; they reminded me of Medieval religious paintings. Down in the station, I often felt as if I were inside of a huge fish tank, with blurry passengers and cars floating by in the depths. Illuminated by artificial light, everything looked quiet and detached from this reality. The lighting often created dreamlike shadows, sometimes creating ghostly effects. I was always fascinated with the surreal images created by this everyday environment.

I used a 35mm SLR camera for first couple of years. Then in fall 1999, I experimented with a rented Hasselblad with B & W film. Since that was a medium format camera and difficult to operate by hand, I set up a tripod on the platform with a cable release. Without a flashlight, instead I used a long exposure and a slow shutter speed in order to capture the transforming contours of shadows over time. I worked at the stations when they were relatively empty-- such as early mornings and on weekends, because I didn’t want to get unnecessary attention. Still, I was unaware of regulations prohibiting the use of tripods in stations.

In April 2000, I visited the station again with the same Hasselblad. I wanted to try color films this time. That was a sunny Sunday morning and I felt the lighting through the street level looked perfect. Just like I did before, I set up my tripod in the platform and started pressing the cable release. I continued to do so for about thirty minutes until a policeman interrupted me. That was the first time that I was ever interrupted in my shooting. I was disappointed, but the results of that half hour's work developed quite beautifully, and I felt quite blessed. The images I captured that morning were exhibited in a group show which opened at the SoHo Photo Gallery in Tribeca on Thursday, September 6th, 2001.

On the fifth day into the exhibition, Tuesday September 11th, I woke up late to see that the Twin Towers were already crushed by terrorists and had disappeared from the skyline. The world I lived in and loved for the past fourteen years had suddenly vanished. The gallery was located just a few blocks away from the WTC. The show had to be temporarily closed due to circumstances shutting off everything in Manhattan south of 14th street.

On Saturday the 15th, I visited the gallery to make sure that everything was okay. I got off the subway at 14th Street and started walking on 6th avenue, headed downtown. The skyline without the World Trade Center seemed shockingly vast and empty. The gallery itself was unaffected but the area around it was filled with dust and debris. The smell of the burning buildings was still so unbearably strong that my eyes were irritated and it was hard for me to breathe. Though the show reopened briefly by the last week of the September, the visitors were, as one would expect, few. Still I had hoped some people would stop by to enjoy the artworks for a moment, no matter how tragic the world had turned.

While the city was struggled to recover, subway cars started displaying American flags as a symbol of patriotism. Soon "The War against Terrorism" began, which was extended to war in Iraq. The world grew fearful of terrorist threats and train stations became a target--a station in Madrid was bombed in 2003, London had a bombing in its system in 2005. Homeland security in New York City grew more tightened than ever. The New York City Transit tried, unsuccessfully, to ban all photography in subways, citing "security concern."

To my friends' surprise, I did care less about the news since I no longer wanted to photograph subway stations. I stopped taking pictures in the subway not because I was afraid of breaking regulations, but because I just didn't feel like going back to the place that once so freely sparked my creative imagination. Nurtured by an artist-friendly atmosphere for years, the entire city let me be absorbed in my creative works. The city had lost its innocence in the aftermath of the attacks, and I was wondering if my faith in my home was dissolving as well. If I were a documentary photographer, I could have continued for journalistic purposes. But I was a fine art photographer. So, I decided to do something else rather than taking photos in the subways.

For the last four years, my subway photos were in my closet, hidden from the public. I had a strange feeling that it might have been inappropriate to show them. I felt as if it might be better to keep my subway photos unseen until the world was be peaceful and secure again. I had no idea when that would happen, though--probably not in my lifetime. Then, recently I took a second look at those archived photos. The neatly printed and framed pictures still looked quite fresh and beautiful. While looking at them, I remembered the chaotic time when those were last exhibited. I thought I should give them another chance to be seen.

So, here they are. I am finally able to show my subway photographs to the public again. These works remind me of the innocence of New York City before 9/11, the city I've loved so dearly since I moved here two decades ago.

Masayo Nishimura

Fall, 2006