|
|
|
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Photos from the West Bank, India, Ukraine and Egypt.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}This is the time for food lines. No, not the ones where people wait to buy artisanal cheeses, organic turkeys and handmade pies for Thanksgiving. It’s the time for food lines because the end of the month is near, which for many families means their food stamp allotment has run out and dollars are tight.
Most working New Yorkers don’t actually see these lines because they are too busy working. But scattered throughout the city, like latter-day versions of Depression photos, grandmothers and children, men and women wait hours for a bag of groceries at a food pantry. Many of the hungriest are children and the elderly. And many have jobs whose hours and salaries have been cut.
Mind you, they are the lucky ones.
“So many of the people using the food pantries are doing the right thing, and still it’s not enough,†said Joey O’Loughlin, a Brooklyn photographer who has been documenting hunger in the city. “They are the people around you, the workers in your building, the air-conditioning guy, the people in the stores where you shop, the housekeepers, nurses, municipal workers. But when I tell people, they are surprised and don’t believe it.â€
Joey O’Loughlin The line at the Action Center pantry, which was founded in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, in Far Rockaway. Aug. 10.This is not unexpected in a city where the gap between haves and have-nots is wide. But while the persistent image of the hungry in New York is that of the bedraggled, single homeless man, the real faces of need look much different, said Margarette Purvis, the president and chief executive of Food Bank For New York City. The food bank enlisted Ms. O’Loughlin to document its work, which includes not just feeding people but also offering help with an array of social and financial services.
Her group estimates that 2.6 million New Yorkers have problems buying food. While homeless men were their target population when the group began its efforts 30 years ago, children now account for 500,000 of their clients each year. Another fast-growing group, Ms. Purvis said, was elderly residents on fixed incomes. They, and working adults who cut back on food in order to meet rising rents, are the faces her group wanted to highlight to combat the myths about hunger.
“Myths can be comforting,†Ms. Purvis said. “Who wants to believe you can work your whole life and end up not being able to afford food? You want to believe those people had to have had something go wrong with them, in order for them to end up in that place. It’s scary to think you work two jobs and not be able to afford food.â€
Joey O’Loughlin At the Mid-Bronx Family Preservation Center pantry, Thanksgiving came in May.Ms. O’Loughlin came to the attention of the Food Bank For New York City after she photographed another project about a misunderstood and underfinanced institution, the public library. Much more than just a place to borrow books, libraries have also become job centers, literacy centers, citizenship preparation centers and more. Ms. O’Loughlin’s photos, which followed borrowers and their books to their homes, provided elusive insights.
Ms. O’Loughlin finds parallels between the projects.
“Seeing how they live showed how the libraries touched people,†she said. “The really smart people are the ones trying to better their lives and take advantage of what programs are there, whether it is the food bank or the library. It reminds me of the public school system where parents are on top of it.â€
From Brooklyn to the Bronx, in churches and community centers, she found a range of food pantries: from well-stocked, efficiently run operations to mom-and-pop outfits where good intentions exceeded capacity. What they had in common was need, with people waiting three hours or more for a bag of basic grocery items. Meat was a treat. In some places, baby formula and diapers were among the necessities handed out.
Ms. O’Loughlin said that while most of the places she visited limited people to a monthly allotment, more resourceful people trekked to different pantries around the city. Following them home, she saw scenes where people huddled in building lobbies to trade food items or went upstairs to share with homebound neighbors. She also found that some people were better at whipping up something tasty with even the most limited of ingredients.
But she also saw the ripple effects of the economic downturn, which sent people looking for food. Workers whose jobs depended on the spending of others found themselves hit hard.
“There was one couple, a guy who was a contractor who had been successful during the boom,†she said. “But his business fell apart. His wife had been a nanny who made a good salary, but she was not able to get another job after she had her own baby. The little things that used to be manageable have become more insurmountable.â€
That includes apathy on the part of fellow New Yorkers who would rather believe people are gaming the system than surviving in an otherwise-gilded city, Ms. O’Loughlin said.
“This is something that is easy to walk by,†she said. “There should be outrage. Is this who we really want to be?â€
Keep that in mind when you see a grandmother standing outside a church pantry with an empty shopping cart, not just this week, but every week. And keep in mind that for all her need, there is also gratitude for what she gets and what she gives: comfort food.
“For a grandmother, if you can still give the family a nice meal, you’re still nurturing,†Ms. O’Loughlin said. “You are fortifying people to deal with these circumstances. How are you supposed to deal with all this stuff if you don’t have any comfort?â€
Joey O’Loughlin Dinner made with pantry food simmered in Dina Garcia Torres’s apartment in the Bronx. Nov. 2.Follow @dgbxny and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. #flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Photos from the West Bank, India, Ukraine and Egypt.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Photos from Egypt, Afghanistan, the Philippines and Japan.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
Owen Humphreys/Press Association, via Associated PressStarlings over Gretna, in southern Scotland, on Monday. The birds visit the area twice a year, in February and November.
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. #flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Photos from Egypt, Afghanistan, the Philippines and Japan.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
Owen Humphreys/Press Association, via Associated PressStarlings over Gretna, in southern Scotland, on Monday. The birds visit the area twice a year, in February and November.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. #flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}This is the time for food lines. No, not the ones where people wait to buy artisanal cheeses, organic turkeys and handmade pies for Thanksgiving. It’s the time for food lines because the end of the month is near, which for many families means their food stamp allotment has run out and dollars are tight.
Most working New Yorkers don’t actually see these lines because they are too busy working. But scattered throughout the city, like latter-day versions of Depression photos, grandmothers and children, men and women wait hours for a bag of groceries at a food pantry. Many of the hungriest are children and the elderly. And many have jobs whose hours and salaries have been cut.
Mind you, they are the lucky ones.
“So many of the people using the food pantries are doing the right thing, and still it’s not enough,†said Joey O’Loughlin, a Brooklyn photographer who has been documenting hunger in the city. “They are the people around you, the workers in your building, the air-conditioning guy, the people in the stores where you shop, the housekeepers, nurses, municipal workers. But when I tell people, they are surprised and don’t believe it.â€
Joey O’Loughlin The line at the Action Center pantry, which was founded in the aftermath of Hurricane Sandy, in Far Rockaway. Aug. 10.This is not unexpected in a city where the gap between haves and have-nots is wide. But while the persistent image of the hungry in New York is that of the bedraggled, single homeless man, the real faces of need look much different, said Margarette Purvis, the president and chief executive of Food Bank For New York City. The food bank enlisted Ms. O’Loughlin to document its work, which includes not just feeding people but also offering help with an array of social and financial services.
Her group estimates that 2.6 million New Yorkers have problems buying food. While homeless men were their target population when the group began its efforts 30 years ago, children now account for 500,000 of their clients each year. Another fast-growing group, Ms. Purvis said, was elderly residents on fixed incomes. They, and working adults who cut back on food in order to meet rising rents, are the faces her group wanted to highlight to combat the myths about hunger.
“Myths can be comforting,†Ms. Purvis said. “Who wants to believe you can work your whole life and end up not being able to afford food? You want to believe those people had to have had something go wrong with them, in order for them to end up in that place. It’s scary to think you work two jobs and not be able to afford food.â€
Joey O’Loughlin At the Mid-Bronx Family Preservation Center pantry, Thanksgiving came in May.Ms. O’Loughlin came to the attention of the Food Bank For New York City after she photographed another project about a misunderstood and underfinanced institution, the public library. Much more than just a place to borrow books, libraries have also become job centers, literacy centers, citizenship preparation centers and more. Ms. O’Loughlin’s photos, which followed borrowers and their books to their homes, provided elusive insights.
Ms. O’Loughlin finds parallels between the projects.
“Seeing how they live showed how the libraries touched people,†she said. “The really smart people are the ones trying to better their lives and take advantage of what programs are there, whether it is the food bank or the library. It reminds me of the public school system where parents are on top of it.â€
From Brooklyn to the Bronx, in churches and community centers, she found a range of food pantries: from well-stocked, efficiently run operations to mom-and-pop outfits where good intentions exceeded capacity. What they had in common was need, with people waiting three hours or more for a bag of basic grocery items. Meat was a treat. In some places, baby formula and diapers were among the necessities handed out.
Ms. O’Loughlin said that while most of the places she visited limited people to a monthly allotment, more resourceful people trekked to different pantries around the city. Following them home, she saw scenes where people huddled in building lobbies to trade food items or went upstairs to share with homebound neighbors. She also found that some people were better at whipping up something tasty with even the most limited of ingredients.
But she also saw the ripple effects of the economic downturn, which sent people looking for food. Workers whose jobs depended on the spending of others found themselves hit hard.
“There was one couple, a guy who was a contractor who had been successful during the boom,†she said. “But his business fell apart. His wife had been a nanny who made a good salary, but she was not able to get another job after she had her own baby. The little things that used to be manageable have become more insurmountable.â€
That includes apathy on the part of fellow New Yorkers who would rather believe people are gaming the system than surviving in an otherwise-gilded city, Ms. O’Loughlin said.
“This is something that is easy to walk by,†she said. “There should be outrage. Is this who we really want to be?â€
Keep that in mind when you see a grandmother standing outside a church pantry with an empty shopping cart, not just this week, but every week. And keep in mind that for all her need, there is also gratitude for what she gets and what she gives: comfort food.
“For a grandmother, if you can still give the family a nice meal, you’re still nurturing,†Ms. O’Loughlin said. “You are fortifying people to deal with these circumstances. How are you supposed to deal with all this stuff if you don’t have any comfort?â€
Joey O’Loughlin Dinner made with pantry food simmered in Dina Garcia Torres’s apartment in the Bronx. Nov. 2.Follow @dgbxny and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Tony Cenicola thought he was leaving behind the world of being a photo assistant to start his own studio. He had been helping a photographer move into a lower Fifth Avenue studio duplex in 1985 when its owner was struck by something: Mr. Cenicola could pack delicate cameras and gear. Soon, Mr. Cenicola got a call from that photographer to be his assistant. He spent the next 10 years working with Saul Leiter, an important figure in the New York School. Mr. Leiter died late Tuesday night in New York City. Mr. Cenicola, who is now a staff photographer at The New York Times, recalled his time assisting â€" and learning from â€" Mr. Leiter. His conversation with David Gonzalez has been edited into a first-person narrative.
Saul had this studio at 156 Fifth Avenue, a stunning duplex that opened up to a rooftop with a view to the north and the Empire State Building. It was quite a vista, and it was at a time when the whole photo business was simpler and you could have a place like that. Saul was moving out, and I was helping this photographer move in.
The space was beautiful, but I had no idea who Saul was. I knew he was an older photographer, somewhat eccentric. But that’s how I met Saul and Soames, his lady friend; they were a pair for 44 years. They were impressed by the fact that I could pack things without breaking them. Not too long later, he called me and asked if I wanted to help him pack his studio and take stuff to his apartment on 10th Street.
In Saul’s career, this was the low point: he was down to one or two clients. There was a younger crowd of fashion photographers coming in and Saul was getting difficult to work with. He had his own way and didn’t like to follow layouts. He wanted to take his picture. It was occasional jobs that I would assist him on, I would set up lights, meter and bracket for him. I was in charge of fixing things, too, in his apartment. He was totally inept at anything other than art.
Tony Cenicola/The New York Times Saul Leiter in 2010.For the most part, I would go to his apartment and sit and have coffee and be in conversation with him and Soames. He was this character who would talk about art and things. He had a way about him that was, I guess, professorial. He was someone you knew you had to spend as much time with as possible. The two of them together, actually. They would go back and forth. They’d talk about art and artists and art movements and what makes different artists great.
Of course, going to his apartment was really eye-opening: it was filled with art books, his work and Soames’s work. You would sit and have coffee with them, and he’d have a portfolio on his lap of paintings he had done the night before because he couldn’t sleep. He’d ask, “What do you think of this?†He had a way of talking that was self-deprecating and humorous.
He liked working in his neighborhood. We were doing a fashion story for The New York Times Magazine, and he wanted to shoot on the Lower East Side using graffiti tags in the background. He did all these shots, but when the article came out in the magazine, all the graffiti had been retouched out of the pictures! That really infuriated him. He’d have some complaints, but he wasn’t surprised.
Another time he was asked by Comme des Garçons to do a catalog of dress shirts, and they gave him carte blanche to go anywhere in the world. He decided he wanted to work on the blocks around his house. That’s what he liked.
Tony Cenicola/The New York Times Mr. Leiter, circa 1987.We were on 9th Street working when, all of a sudden, this guy comes walking by. Saul picked up his camera and started chasing this guy in a funny way. He’s shooting pictures and chasing him across the street, having this cat-and-mouse thing. He comes back and says in my ear in a low, conspiratorial voice, “Do you know who that was?â€
I did not.
“That was Robert Frank.â€
I was a kid then. I’m 58 now. Life got in the way and I saw him less and less. You don’t go to visit Saul for five minutes. You have to go there for the evening. It got harder and harder to visit him, I had moved upstate, had kids and a full-time job. But I’d still make excuses to come down and see him, but not often enough.
I did see him this week.
Saul had a love of beauty. He didn’t like art that was harsh. He had a way of seeing beauty in everything. I’m always seeing like Saul. I look around and I can take a Saul picture. What I’ve come to realize when I take a picture like that, it’s a Saul picture. I can take a beautiful picture in the style of Saul. What I have to strive to do is take a picture as good as Saul that’s mine.
I’m still working on that.
Tony Cenicola/The New York Times In the style of Saul Leiter. New York. Nov. 26.A film by Tomas Leach, “In No Great Hurry: 13 Lessons in Life With Saul Leiter,†had its premiere in New York at the DOC NYC film festival in Chelsea on Nov. 16. Upcoming screenings include one at the Bath Film Festival in England, on Dec. 4, at the Brotfabrik Kino in Berlin, Dec. 5 through 11 and at the Miami Street Photography Festival on Dec. 6 and 7.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. #flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Tony Cenicola thought he was leaving behind the world of being a photo assistant to start his own studio. He had been helping a photographer move into a lower Fifth Avenue studio duplex in 1985 when its owner was struck by something: Mr. Cenicola could pack delicate cameras and gear. Soon, Mr. Cenicola got a call from that photographer to be his assistant. He spent the next 10 years working with Saul Leiter, an important figure in the New York School. Mr. Leiter died late Tuesday night in New York City. Mr. Cenicola, who is now a staff photographer at The New York Times, recalled his time assisting â€" and learning from â€" Mr. Leiter. His conversation with David Gonzalez has been edited into a first-person narrative.
Saul had this studio at 156 Fifth Avenue, a stunning duplex that opened up to a rooftop with a view to the north and the Empire State Building. It was quite a vista, and it was at a time when the whole photo business was simpler and you could have a place like that. Saul was moving out, and I was helping this photographer move in.
The space was beautiful, but I had no idea who Saul was. I knew he was an older photographer, somewhat eccentric. But that’s how I met Saul and Soames, his lady friend; they were a pair for 44 years. They were impressed by the fact that I could pack things without breaking them. Not too long later, he called me and asked if I wanted to help him pack his studio and take stuff to his apartment on 10th Street.
In Saul’s career, this was the low point: he was down to one or two clients. There was a younger crowd of fashion photographers coming in and Saul was getting difficult to work with. He had his own way and didn’t like to follow layouts. He wanted to take his picture. It was occasional jobs that I would assist him on, I would set up lights, meter and bracket for him. I was in charge of fixing things, too, in his apartment. He was totally inept at anything other than art.
Tony Cenicola/The New York Times Saul Leiter in 2010.For the most part, I would go to his apartment and sit and have coffee and be in conversation with him and Soames. He was this character who would talk about art and things. He had a way about him that was, I guess, professorial. He was someone you knew you had to spend as much time with as possible. The two of them together, actually. They would go back and forth. They’d talk about art and artists and art movements and what makes different artists great.
Of course, going to his apartment was really eye-opening: it was filled with art books, his work and Soames’s work. You would sit and have coffee with them, and he’d have a portfolio on his lap of paintings he had done the night before because he couldn’t sleep. He’d ask, “What do you think of this?†He had a way of talking that was self-deprecating and humorous.
He liked working in his neighborhood. We were doing a fashion story for The New York Times Magazine, and he wanted to shoot on the Lower East Side using graffiti tags in the background. He did all these shots, but when the article came out in the magazine, all the graffiti had been retouched out of the pictures! That really infuriated him. He’d have some complaints, but he wasn’t surprised.
Another time he was asked by Comme des Garçons to do a catalog of dress shirts, and they gave him carte blanche to go anywhere in the world. He decided he wanted to work on the blocks around his house. That’s what he liked.
Tony Cenicola/The New York Times Mr. Leiter, circa 1987.We were on 9th Street working when, all of a sudden, this guy comes walking by. Saul picked up his camera and started chasing this guy in a funny way. He’s shooting pictures and chasing him across the street, having this cat-and-mouse thing. He comes back and says in my ear in a low, conspiratorial voice, “Do you know who that was?â€
I did not.
“That was Robert Frank.â€
I was a kid then. I’m 58 now. Life got in the way and I saw him less and less. You don’t go to visit Saul for five minutes. You have to go there for the evening. It got harder and harder to visit him, I had moved upstate, had kids and a full-time job. But I’d still make excuses to come down and see him, but not often enough.
I did see him this week.
Saul had a love of beauty. He didn’t like art that was harsh. He had a way of seeing beauty in everything. I’m always seeing like Saul. I look around and I can take a Saul picture. What I’ve come to realize when I take a picture like that, it’s a Saul picture. I can take a beautiful picture in the style of Saul. What I have to strive to do is take a picture as good as Saul that’s mine.
I’m still working on that.
Tony Cenicola/The New York Times In the style of Saul Leiter. New York. Nov. 26.A film by Tomas Leach, “In No Great Hurry: 13 Lessons in Life With Saul Leiter,†had its premiere in New York at the DOC NYC film festival in Chelsea on Nov. 16. Upcoming screenings include one at the Bath Film Festival in England, on Dec. 4, at the Brotfabrik Kino in Berlin, Dec. 5 through 11 and at the Miami Street Photography Festival on Dec. 6 and 7.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}A young man painted in blue fixes his eyes on the photographer before him. But before the portrait is made, he peeks in the mirror, retouches his lipstick and brushes away a few strands of white and blue hair from his face. He spent weeks preparing his wig and outfit â€" a shimmering handmade gown of plastic shower curtains and yellow buttons â€" all in hopes of taking home the title, and maybe some money, as “Butch Queen Bizarre.â€
Gerard H. Gaskin took only four frames before he slipped out of the room, leaving the blue man, Tez, to prepare for his moment at the Evisu house ball in Manhattan.
“He was about to go on stage and I didn’t want to bother him too much,†Mr. Gaskin said. “These competitions are known to get really intense sometimes.â€
Gerard H. Gaskin Tez, Evisu Ball. Manhattan. 2010.And that has kept the Trinidadian photographer just as intensely busy. Mr. Gaskin has spent the last two decades documenting the sensual and energetic underground scene of house balls, late-night pageants where gay and transgender men and women compete in categories based on attitude, costume and dance moves. Each image takes you deeper into an often unseen world: a young man putting on his final touches of makeup before gracing the ballroom stage (Slide 5), a woman dressed in a suit, gently gripping her girlfriend at her side.
The participants, mostly black and Latino young men, have often been marginalized by society and their families. But at the house balls, they support one another as they explore their gender identity through extravagant dress and glamour.
A collection of Mr. Gaskin’s ballroom images earned him the 2012 First Book Prize in Photography, given by the Center for Documentary Studies and the Honickman Foundation. As part of the award, the photographs were collected in a new book out this month, “Legendary: Inside the House Ballroom Scene.â€
“For members of New York City’s underground house-ball community, being photographed by Gerard H. Gaskin is a rite of passage: All of the legendary children appear in front of his lens at some point or another,†Frank Roberts, a writer and gay rights activist, wrote in an essay published in “Legendary.†“Gaskin has become the Trinidadian Andy Warhol of this scene.â€
Mr. Gaskin’s interest in the scene dates to his childhood in Trinidad, where the streets were overrun by elaborately dressed revelers at carnival every year. But some of his original hesitations also were from his upbringing in a highly religious community. “I had to get comfortable in my own skin,†he said, “like getting used to men hitting on me and not being bothered.â€
Gerard H. Gaskin Gisele, Latex Ball. Manhattan. 2008.When Mr. Gaskin, 45, first started following the ball scene, being accepted by the participants was more difficult than he expected. He had a friend who worked as a costume designer at some of the events, but when he wasn’t around, Mr. Gaskin had no other friends or contacts to keep him informed. “I imagine, they thought, who is this heterosexual male in our space,†he said, “and what does he want here?â€
Without their acceptance, Mr. Gaskin had to rely on fliers he found at area nightclubs, promoting where the next ball would take place. But the information would constantly change, and he often found himself outside of locked venues because of a canceled or relocated show.
Over time, members of the scene took notice of him. He became more confident and universally known as “Cameraman.†He eventually started getting personal invitations to secret balls in New York, Philadelphia, Richmond, Va., and Washington, D.C.
Glancing through his archives, Mr. Gaskin said that not much has changed with the format of the ballroom competitions over the last two decades. But with the Internet and social media, it has become a lot easier to track budding ballroom communities across the country.
When his publisher announced that he wanted to use the image of the blue man for the cover of his book, Mr. Gaskin panicked. He had taken the photo of Tez (top) three years earlier, and in a rush, did not take down his contact information.
He went straight for the message boards on several group pages on Facebook, asking his contacts in the ball community if they could identify Tez’s photo. Within three weeks, Tez contacted Mr. Gaskin, happily agreeing to participate in his book.
“That exchange just would not have happened in the early ’90s,†Mr. Gaskin said of reconnecting with Tez. “There is no way I would have found him so quickly, if at all.â€
Mr. Gaskin also feels that the Internet has also allowed the ballroom scene to become more accepted in mainstream culture. His work, which he also shares via social media, has been a way to further engage the public about ball culture, and with his book, he hopes that the dialogue continues.
“To me, the book is a celebration of this community,†said Mr. Gaskin, who now lives in Syracuse. “When outside people look at these images, I want them to see a beautiful space that these people created for themselves to judge who they are and who they want to be.â€
Photos from Gerard H. Gaskin’s “Legendary: Inside the House Ballroom Scene†will be on view at the W Hotel on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan from Dec. 1 through 31.
Follow @Whitney_Rich and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Photos from Virginia, the Philippines, China and Bahrain.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. #flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Photos from Virginia, the Philippines, China and Bahrain.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. #flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}A young man painted in blue fixes his eyes on the photographer before him. But before the portrait is made, he peeks in the mirror, retouches his lipstick and brushes away a few strands of white and blue hair from his face. He spent weeks preparing his wig and outfit â€" a shimmering handmade gown of plastic shower curtains and yellow buttons â€" all in hopes of taking home the title, and maybe some money, as “Butch Queen Bizarre.â€
Gerard H. Gaskin took only four frames before he slipped out of the room, leaving the blue man, Tez, to prepare for his moment at the Evisu house ball in Manhattan.
“He was about to go on stage and I didn’t want to bother him too much,†Mr. Gaskin said. “These competitions are known to get really intense sometimes.â€
Gerard H. Gaskin Tez, Evisu Ball. Manhattan. 2010.And that has kept the Trinidadian photographer just as intensely busy. Mr. Gaskin has spent the last two decades documenting the sensual and energetic underground scene of house balls, late-night pageants where gay and transgender men and women compete in categories based on attitude, costume and dance moves. Each image takes you deeper into an often unseen world: a young man putting on his final touches of makeup before gracing the ballroom stage (Slide 5), a woman dressed in a suit, gently gripping her girlfriend at her side.
The participants, mostly black and Latino young men, have often been marginalized by society and their families. But at the house balls, they support one another as they explore their gender identity through extravagant dress and glamour.
A collection of Mr. Gaskin’s ballroom images earned him the 2012 First Book Prize in Photography, given by the Center for Documentary Studies and the Honickman Foundation. As part of the award, the photographs were collected in a new book out this month, “Legendary: Inside the House Ballroom Scene.â€
“For members of New York City’s underground house-ball community, being photographed by Gerard H. Gaskin is a rite of passage: All of the legendary children appear in front of his lens at some point or another,†Frank Roberts, a writer and gay rights activist, wrote in an essay published in “Legendary.†“Gaskin has become the Trinidadian Andy Warhol of this scene.â€
Mr. Gaskin’s interest in the scene dates to his childhood in Trinidad, where the streets were overrun by elaborately dressed revelers at carnival every year. But some of his original hesitations also were from his upbringing in a highly religious community. “I had to get comfortable in my own skin,†he said, “like getting used to men hitting on me and not being bothered.â€
Gerard H. Gaskin Gisele, Latex Ball. Manhattan. 2008.When Mr. Gaskin, 45, first started following the ball scene, being accepted by the participants was more difficult than he expected. He had a friend who worked as a costume designer at some of the events, but when he wasn’t around, Mr. Gaskin had no other friends or contacts to keep him informed. “I imagine, they thought, who is this heterosexual male in our space,†he said, “and what does he want here?â€
Without their acceptance, Mr. Gaskin had to rely on fliers he found at area nightclubs, promoting where the next ball would take place. But the information would constantly change, and he often found himself outside of locked venues because of a canceled or relocated show.
Over time, members of the scene took notice of him. He became more confident and universally known as “Cameraman.†He eventually started getting personal invitations to secret balls in New York, Philadelphia, Richmond, Va., and Washington, D.C.
Glancing through his archives, Mr. Gaskin said that not much has changed with the format of the ballroom competitions over the last two decades. But with the Internet and social media, it has become a lot easier to track budding ballroom communities across the country.
When his publisher announced that he wanted to use the image of the blue man for the cover of his book, Mr. Gaskin panicked. He had taken the photo of Tez (top) three years earlier, and in a rush, did not take down his contact information.
He went straight for the message boards on several group pages on Facebook, asking his contacts in the ball community if they could identify Tez’s photo. Within three weeks, Tez contacted Mr. Gaskin, happily agreeing to participate in his book.
“That exchange just would not have happened in the early ’90s,†Mr. Gaskin said of reconnecting with Tez. “There is no way I would have found him so quickly, if at all.â€
Mr. Gaskin also feels that the Internet has also allowed the ballroom scene to become more accepted in mainstream culture. His work, which he also shares via social media, has been a way to further engage the public about ball culture, and with his book, he hopes that the dialogue continues.
“To me, the book is a celebration of this community,†said Mr. Gaskin, who now lives in Syracuse. “When outside people look at these images, I want them to see a beautiful space that these people created for themselves to judge who they are and who they want to be.â€
Photos from Gerard H. Gaskin’s “Legendary: Inside the House Ballroom Scene†will be on view at the W Hotel on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan from Dec. 1 through 31.
Follow @Whitney_Rich and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.
Log in to manage your products and services from The New York Times and the International New York Times.
Don't have an account yet?
Create an account »
Subscribed through iTunes and need an NYTimes.com account?
Learn more »
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Photos from Illinois, the Philippines, Pakistan and France.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}We highly recommend viewing the slideshow in “full-screen†mode.
Josef Koudelka started his professional life as an engineer in Czechoslovakia and switched to photography in his late 20s. He photographed the Soviet invasion of his country in 1968 and published his seminal book, “Gypsies,†in 1975 (a revised and enlarged edition was published by Aperture in 2011).
His new book, “Wall: Israeli and Palestinian Landscapes,†also published by Aperture, is a result of four years of photographing the Israeli-built wall that separates the Palestinian West Bank and Israel. The book came out of a group project, “This Place: Making Images, Breaking Images â€" Israel and the West Bank,†that was organized by the photographer Frédéric Brenner and included Mr. Koudelka and 11 other photographers.
Mr. Koudelka, 75, has been a member of Magnum Photos for more than 40 years. He spoke with James Estrin in Paris last week. The conversation has been edited and will run in two parts on Lens, Tuesday and Wednesday.
We met last time in Charlottesville, at Look3.
I try to do a minimum of interviews and usually I do an interview because I am having a show and I know I have to. Usually it lasts a long time. I don’t want to do it quickly, but I want to do it thoroughly.
Whatever I do, essentially, I do for myself. I didn’t do “Gypsies†to save Gypsies, because even I know I can’t save them. So everything I do for myself. If it helps something, I am very pleased. I go around the world and try to discover what interests me and what has something to do with me. For that reason, I never work for a magazine, I never did any fashion, I never made any publicity. For me, a project must interest me and have something to do with me.
So when this group project came up, I said no, I don’t want to participate. First of all, I don’t want to get mixed up with Israel because it’s very, very complicated and it was not exactly my idea. Secondly, it was a group project and I am very suspicious of group projects because you can control what you do, but you can’t control what the others do.
So, I refused to go there.
Frédéric Brenner pushed me to go. He said go for two weeks and have a look. I said I will go on the condition that I pay for my own ticket because I know that I am going to tell you no. I know him very well, since he started to take pictures, and I like him and I think he’s an honest man.
I had never been in Israel, and I wanted to know what Israel was about, so I said O.K. And I discovered that it has something to do with me.
For 25 years, and this is my longest photographic project, I have been interested in how contemporary man influences the landscape. I have made 10 books on it.
Then I discovered the wall. I grew up behind a wall so I knew what it was. For me, the good photographer is not the guy who goes on the street for 10 minutes and takes this fantastic picture. The good photographer must create the conditions so that he can be good. I found that the destruction of the landscape is very bad. This is the landscape that had something to do with me.
I didn’t really want to get mixed up with this, so I needed to have the guarantee that they would let me do what I wanted. Only after four trips of three weeks each to Israel was I sure that I have the guarantee that I am not going to be used â€" that I will be given the freedom to do all that I wanted in Israel. And that I can control it, from the beginning to the final product. Only then did I sign the contract.
This was going to be a book and I was going to pick the publisher. If you look at only three of the photos you might not understand what it is all about. The question for me was if I do an exhibition should there be text. I don’t need text. There will be a short text in the back like in “Black Triangle.â€
Andrew Henderson/The New York Times Josef Koudelka standing in front of his exhibition “Invasion 68 Prague,†at Aperture Gallery in Manhattan.You don’t want words because when people think of the wall it’s about politics? The wall also has this significance, for you, of living behind the wall in Czechoslovakia.
What is interesting for me is that I showed these books in Israel and everyone told me this book is not a political book â€" that this is about man and the place. This book is not about conflict â€" of course you can take it as you want.
An Israeli poet said to me, “You did something important â€" you made the invisible visible.†He meant that Israelis don’t want to see the wall and they don’t even want to speak about it. They don’t go across it. It is very easy to live in one country, in France or Czechoslovakia, and ignore completely one thing, one important thing, that you want to ignore.
The thing that struck me when thinking about the book and thinking about you is that you photograph people who are rootless. In “Exiles†they are people who had to leave home. Gypsies don’t have a home or their home may be the next place they go to. To some Palestinians the wall is keeping them from their home.
I was brought up behind the wall and all my life I wanted to get out, and this is the principle of the wall â€" you know you can’t get out.
So it’s not just a physical wall?
Of course it is a physical wall. I hope my book is not about my experience. In my “Black Triangle†book, I am not an ecologist though I am very happy if it is used to help the land. The viewer can take something else out of it.
I don’t like picture stories. In fact I think picture stories destroyed all photography. You needed to have a close-up and you needed to do other things and for me I am interested in one picture that tells many different stories to different people. That is to me a sign of the good picture.
We all see through our experiences. So because of my experiences, essentially the wall is about not being able to go to the other side.
Every day that I was there I didn’t see anything else but the wall, and I can tell you I couldn’t stand it longer than three weeks. I was so depressed that I needed to go away.
When I first started to take photographs in Czechoslovakia, I met this old gentleman, this old photographer, who told me a few practical things. One of the things he said was, “Josef, a photographer works on the subject, but the subject works on the photographer.†I have the camera’s viewfinder and I am trying to put the world â€" for the world â€" in the viewfinder. But in the same time the world is forming me.
You didn’t do assignment work because you didn’t want other people to control what you do or tell you how to do it.
I did 25 or 26 dummies of the book. The work is done only after 1,000 possibilities you come to the one that must be done this way and not differently.
It seems like it is of a whole. You said the wall fits in your search for individual freedom when you were younger. Which is …
I think it is not only about the wall, my book is about the wall and the Israel and Palestinian landscape. You have this divided country and these people who react certain ways to these conditions.
For me, Palestinian or Israeli, I look at you for who you are. When I left Czechoslovakia people asked me: “Are you a Communist? Are you opposed to communism? Are you an anarchist?†How you label it doesn’t mean much to me.
We have a divided country and each of two groups of people tries to defend themselves. The one that can’t defend itself is the landscape. I call what is going on in this most holy landscape, which is most holy for a big part of humanity, is the crime against the landscape. As there exists crimes against humanity there should exist the crime against the landscape.
I am principally against destruction â€" and what’s going on is a crime against the landscape that is enormous in one of the most important landscapes in the world.
You said that you photograph for yourself â€" it’s nice if other people see other things in your pictures but you photograph for yourself. I’ve come to realize that for me photographing is really about the process â€" the product will take care of itself. The photograph will come out right if the process is right.
I was never really interested in publishing my photographs. I was never interested, but now I am changing.
In the past if somebody had come to me and said, “I’ll give you money to photograph on the condition that you will not publish your photographs,†I would have accepted without any question. But if he would say, “I want to destroy your photographs,†I would have said no. For me the essence is important.
Josef Koudelka/Magnum Photos Romania. 1968. Gypsies.I am not this guy who wants to change the world â€" of course I would be happy if it helped. But I remember when I published my Gypsy book I felt like a prostitute because suddenly anyone who has money could buy it.
I wanted to choose the people who I wanted to show the photographs to. This was a deformation from Czechoslovakia because I knew that my photographs didn’t have importance there.
(He laughs.) I couldn’t help my Gypsies. If I was only going to be photographing Gypsies I was going to run into problems from the government, because they didn’t want much talk about the Gypsies.
I have this deformation, from this Czech period when I was growing up, in many different ways. It goes even to the language. I don’t believe what people say. What was written or what you heard â€" the contrary was true.
For me what photographers say about their photos doesn’t have any importance. For me it is just enough to look at the pictures. Many times â€" for the boring pictures â€" people have to say so many things about them to show you there is something to them when many times there is nothing.
So if you do this for yourself, what is the satisfaction then? You do it for yourself just to see these things that you want to see?
I told you that I am changing. Of course I don’t have any illusion about this book that it will change anything. I am just showing what I saw. That’s all.
What I am wondering, is it the aesthetic pleasure â€" the artistic pleasure of putting something together?
I never use the explanation of “art,†as a matter of fact every time there is the Magnum meeting and they start to talk about art I say: “Can we eliminate from the annual meeting the word art? Let’s just talk about photography. What is this art?â€
Part 2 of the interview with Josef Koudelka is currently published on Lens.
Follow @MagnumPhotos, @aperturefnd, @JamesEstrin and @nytimesphoto on Twitter. Lens is also on Facebook.
In order to view this feature, you must download the latest version of flash player here. 
#flashHeader{visibility:visible !important;}Photos from Lebanon, the Philippines, Nepal and Egypt.
Follow Lens on Facebook and Twitter.