My time in New York City was fleeting. I had four days to explore and I had split Manhattan into quarters, one for each day. However, as any street photographer will know, part of what makes street photography so enthralling is the way a place changes as time passes. Taking New York as an example, Times Square is definitely not the same in the morning than it is at night. The first few hours of my first morning were spent in the Financial District. I walked aimlessly through the streets and found myself at Wall Street. I felt like I’d stumbled across a movie set. There was something about the way that the buildings tower over you that created such an atmosphere.
The morning was gloomy, cloudy and grey and there was a somewhat melancholic vibe. But of course, the city was just waking up, and so it represented morning perfectly. I was struck by - in spite of it being early - just how quiet it was. It reminded me of a place that had been abandoned, that I’d arrived just after the efflux. There was just the odd figure meandering through the concrete jungle, dwarfed by the architecture. I felt tiny and invisible. I got a coffee and I observed for a while.
At first there was an overwhelming representation of business people, suited and booted and ready to start the day. They had their coffee in hand and many were already doing business on the phone. But as a little more time passed, and though it still early, I got a larger sense that Wall Street was more of a microcosm of New York as a whole. It felt like I was in a snow globe. Because in a place so defined by business, came representation of all walks of life.
There were the business people, those already mentioned. But then came the tourists. Just like me. Carrying a camera and a sense of excitement, with wide eyes and craned necks because they couldn’t help but look up. Then the city workers, those working throughout the day to make the city tick, those who had woken the city and the same who would put it to bed again, and the same again who would make sure it was fed throughout the day. And finally, there were the locals, identifiable solely by the dog on a lead. There was a sense of something curious about Wall Street, like it existed solely in its own universe, separate from the rest of the city. It felt real and authentically New York, yet at the same time like it existed solely to host an example of what the city is.
I am yet to experience Wall Street at night, nor during the working hours of a working day. One day I hope I will, if only to compare to the place I saw on a dreary March morning. But something tells me Wall Street never really changes, whatever time of day. That the way it was is the way it will always be. The suits carrying coffee and the out-of-towners carrying cameras and the hushed silence floating between towering brick and glass, existing in its own silo. And that in itself makes it a fascinating place to observe.
