posted on 2021-05-24, 14:25authored byStephanie Power
My roots are showing: as a girl from out around the bay who “idolized New York all out of proportion” –
to quote Woody Allen’s Isaac in Manhattan – a sense of aspiration informs this project. Growing up in
Newfoundland, I had two tenuous connections to New York: my mother voraciously read the american
society bible “Town and Country” and my father travelled to New York twice in the 1960’s to visit his
sisters, Mary and Bride, who as young women moved to Brooklyn from Chapel Arm, Newfoundland in the
1940’s. As a child ever envious that my aunts had unlimited access to such a cosmopolitan place, I was
drawn to the idealistic notion of New York as a “magic city.” I idolized Mary, a fierce woman who was my
template for what I imagined was the archetypal New Yorker: brash, quick-witted, uncompromising. As a
child, I witnessed her throw the “chin flick” and it thrilled me. It was such a brazenly profane gesture from
an old school God-fearing Catholic. And it was so New York! She remained close to my father until he died
from complications due to Alzheimers in 2000. Now 95, and also with Alzheimers, she lives in an old age
home in the same Newfoundland town where I drifted through the pre-fab hallways of my high school and
plotted my escape to the magic city.
But I would never have the cojones to move to New York like Mary and Bride, even though opportunities
presented themselves to me. To this day, I remain an outsider: roaming the city with a camera, often
strolling by Robert Frank’s house on the slim chance I might find him sitting outside – I hear it’s a habit of
his. Frank, Garry Winogrand, Diane Arbus, Helen Levitt and Saul Leiter: I worship them in the same way I
worshipped Aunt Mary. Their traces remain on the streets I walk: ghosts that whisper sweetly while I look
forward and backward through my lens, caught in a temporal loop, searching for a city that I’m not sure
exists, except in my head. New York looms large in the collective imagination and we all have our versions
of it. This is mine.