‘This image gave me a jolt: his poker face, his grip on the bottle of window cleaner – and the boulder that might be a meteor that struck the flowerbed’
I
made this image, Man with Windex, in New York City, in 1996. I was, and remain, obsessed with making photographs on the streets of New York. At that time, I was using a Leica Rangefinder with colour negative film because of its malleability and ease. One of the beautiful things about the Leica is its stealth qualities – it is quiet and small, though for me right now the iPhone is my camera.
I am the son of Holocaust survivors and grew up in suburban central New Jersey, moving to New York in 1979 when I was in my early 20s – which was like landing on Mars. This picture is part of my series and book Sidewalk, made between 1987 and 1999. I would walk the streets of Manhattan daily, ready for surprises. Out on the street you need calm alertness. Pictures that remain strongest for me have a sense of ambiguity, maybe that extra-rare quality of mystery, and that would give me a feeling of euphoria.
My wanderings that day took me near 50th Street and Sixth Avenue, a part of midtown that is chock-full of possibilities. There was this man in a suit and tie, with a cigarette in one hand and the other clenching a spray bottle of Windex. It was only when I saw the actual negative on a light box with a loupe magnifier that I felt an immediate jolt, a buzz of wonder. There were the ingredients I hope for: the ambiguity and the mystery. The tension of his grip on the Windex bottle, a poker face expression, the assumption he may be a janitor despite being dressed in a suit. Also, he seems unaware of me. There are wilted daffodil flowers, a boulder that might be a meteor that struck the flowerbed.
