Church on The Rock, New Years Day 2006.

"Pastor Gary's Son with His Wife and Son", Rockaways, NYC, 2006. Juliana Beasley

I have never posted these images and have only shown them to a few people. They are part of another project, one of those projects you might write down on a list somewhere, the project you plan to revisit. Sometimes, we wait too long and never return, other times, for whatever reason in the cosmos, the attraction is so strong, you can't stay away. This is how I have been feeling lately about this group of portraits that I shot in no more than twenty minutes.

On New Year's Day 2006, I drove out to the Rockaways to photograph at a small storefront church named appropriately "Church on the Rock".  The church is overseen by Pastor Gary as he is fondly known to the congregation. On weekends, he can be found preaching at the lectern on a humble stage.

When I saw Pastor Gary that very New Year's Day, a very frigid day as I recall, he recounted of his half way house in upstate New York. As far as I know, he told me that he was providing a service to the neighborhood, taking in addicted and alcoholic men and under his wing and under God's direction to find a sober and healthier life.

"Charles", Rockaways, NYC, 2006. Juliana Beasley

When I arrived the service had already begun. I created a make-shift studio against the wall next to the entrance and put my brand new Mamiya 645 on my new tripod. I had shot with the Mamiya possibly once before (and sadly enough not much at since). Tripods, now that was a new concept! In the past, they felt cumbersome, even the sturdy light Gitzo investment I had carted along.

We were crammed in between blue office chairs that were used instead of pews. Pushing them aside, we tried to move as far away from the wall backdrop as we could and even managed to set up a Vivitar on light stand. I felt like I was completely working somewhere, not outside of my skill set, but in a very new way that felt exciting. Thankfully, I had a friend there to help me. We had about 10 minutes to set up and take a test Polaroid. I asked my friend to put the test shot under her shirt to warm it up and speed the processing... I could see through the doorway that many had already gathered their personal belongings, preparing to leave.

"Brother and Sister", NYC, 2006. Juliana Beasley

No, it wasn't perfect but that suited me fine.

As the service ended, the members of the congregation began to slowly move towards our studio. After all, the only way to exit the church was to pass in front of my camera.. The line moved quickly, most obliged me with a portrait, rarely anyone refused. I shot a couple of frames.

The congregation was eclectic. Some came in well-worn clothes but others were dressed for their Sunday best.

One well-groomed couple introduced themselves to me and said they had recently bought a larger renovated home in the neighborhood. They represented the slow trickle of gentrification changing the colorful spirit of the Rockaways, for better or worse. I was surprised to see the middle-aged couple whom clearly had a more comfortable existence than most of the other members. They were cheerful, open-minded and made sure to mingle with others.

"Can I take your New Year's portrait?" I asked the people as they walked by.

And after a couple of shot frames. I asked, "What do you wish for the New Year? Do you have a New Year's resolutions?" I had also brought along my new digital recorder for interviewing.

"Woman with Her Purse", NYC, 2006. Juliana Beasley

Some wished for happiness, others peace, others health. No one had any specific requests. I was disheartened and finally, lost interest in asking.

"Red Head Girl", NYC, 2006. Juliana Beasley

Where was Pastor Gary? He must have slipped out the back door and I never got his portrait.

Irish Christmas.... Ode to the Rockaways

"Untitled 1", Rockaways, NYC, 2008. Juliana Beasley

"Untitled 2", Rockaways, NYC, 2008. Juliana Beasley

"Untitled 3", Rockaways, 2008. Juliana Beasley

"Untitled 4", Rockwaways, NYC., 2008. Juliana Beasley

Untitled for now. Later date. Tomorrow? Maybe, I'll have words coming out of my fingers.

Random Photos From the Rockaways, 2009.

"Boy Waiting for School Bus", Rockaways, 2009.

"Red Couch", inside a home in the projects of Far Rockaways, 2008.

"No Trespassing", outside a crack house in Rockaway Park, 2008.

"Fishbowl" at Sasha Wolf Gallery in the Nymphoto Group Show

Hot information!

I will be showing my photograph, "Fishbowl" at the Sasha Wolf Gallery starting at the opening tonight from 6-9pm.



For all information on dates of show and location go to: www.sashawolfgallery.com

You can also check out: http://nymphoto.blogspot.com/

The mother ship that has taken on all of these fab female photographers in the show.

Nymphoto has published a super fab collection of some of the photographers that have been featured on their site. What makes it even cooler? They have included not only the photographs but also the writing and interviews of the fem-photographers.

Here is the roster:

Michele Abeles, Juliana Beasley, Rona Chang, Nina Büsing Corvallo, Candace Gottschalk, Jessica M. Kaufman, Klea McKenna, Michal Chelbin, Talia Greene, Maria Passarotti, Susana Raab, Emily Shur, Tema Stauffer, Jane Tam, Garie Waltzer & Jennifer Williams.

As soon as we are up and going over at Chez Beasley (btw, Moishe and Howard are back with me for the month of May)...I have some exciting news to share with all. Also, my computer is sick and in for repairs.

Hope to see you tonight... suggestion.. GET THERE EARLY! There will be many great women artists showing there work and lot's of groupies.

Bogart and Snickers

"Phil on Christmas Morning, 2008"

I was half-asleep on Christmas Eve in a studio out in Rockaway Park . Phil came in the door. I looked at the digital alarm clock, 4:15 AM. "Here, Darling". He threw an extra long Snickers on the bed next to me as if he was throwing a bundle of hard cash, after a grueling night shift. He brought me home a Snickers bar every night since I had arrived two days ago.

"Where were you?" We could have been a married couple after sharing a one room studio apartment for only a couple of days.

"Out at the bar," he said.

His eyes always look downward, making the rare eye contact. He scanned the floor. With a massive hand engulfing his skull, he began to scratch and swoop his hair back, the same way only men with short hair cuts are privy to do in this world. The same soulful gesture you might imagine Marlon Brandon doing in a moment of confusion or defeat in a movie from the fifties.

"Which bar?". I already felt like I had missed out on something fun.

"Kerry Hill." "I ran into Trish and we ended up talking for a bit."

I always wondered how people can spend hours in a bar talking to the same people all the time without some purpose. My life has been bound to purpose, reason and without both, socializing can seem like falling into a busted fishnet. I envied Phil and everyone else who could go out and banter the nights away, while I was white knuckling scores of "to do" lists on Christmas Eve.

I tore into the Snickers with my teeth and before he could even turn around to look at me from the kitchenette against the opposite wall, I had gobbled it down. I felt the caramel and chocolate leftovers stuck to my teeth. I would wait for the early morning sun, get up to brush my teeth in the shared bathroom, in between, his apartment and his neighbors.

After a couple of nights, camping out here, shooting in the day and watching Turner Classics while convalescing late evenings and mornings, I felt at home here. I almost always feel more at home in other people's homes than in my own, especially, when they are not at home.

Dear Phil,

Thanks for letting me spend the night.

Thanks for buying me diet cokes and snicker bars.

Thanks for making me a beautiful eggs over medium sandwich on wheat toast.

And hours of Bogart to watch on two separate televisions facing one another on opposing sides of your studio.

And most of all a hide-out during the holidays.

With affection,
Juliana

Oh, Let Us Adore Him!

I am off to the Rockaways to stand out in the frigid air with my dear intern, Buddhist Jesse. Who else would join me on my yearly voyage out to Rockaway Park for the holidays?

He is ready to meet Tara, Bryan, Michelle and anyone else who comes down our path, as it always seems to be. I learned the hard way that making plans out there is something akin to waiting 5 hours in Albania for the bus to finally show up and then when it doesn't, hiring some random driver to take you halfway to your destination.

After the Big C. day, Jesse is off to the hills of a state that will remain sacrosanct. Yes, he is off for a week-long retreat with fellow meditators to purge all wordly distractions and malaise. My first destination choice-- two week full body massage, facial, and herbal wrap complete at McClean.

This time, I actually might get use out of a tripod that I bought almost 2 years ago. This might be the time to try out those long exposures at night. Where is Todd Hido when you need him? And yes, I've been avoiding recording interviews because with a camera nearby, the decision is always clear cut. This time...all those great conversations will be conjured up once again.

I'm off to breathe in lots of second hand smoke and sit in the Kerry Hill and go to homes of friends whom I haven't seen since the summer. It's not my favorite time of year out there or anywhere in the Northeast, but in someways, the most honest time since the tourists are long gone. The streets are deserted and the bars begin to fill early morning. Jesse and I will be there just in time, at 11am, right before the last cantankerous drunk has had enough to settle the shakes and the crankies.

They will all say "Happy Hanukkah!" when I walk through the door, even though I never celebrate the holiday. You might think that Jews in NYC don't exist with the kind of dazzling salutations I will receive out here this week. In the end, I feel like I just don't fit in. But, this might be as good as it get's.

I got lucky and found another place to sleep. Unfortunately, I screwed up the last home stay. On the second night I moved in the apartment, I changed rooms in order to sleep with my host's new roommate who had also moved in the same night I did. We had met in the kitchen standing over a pot of crusty black bean remains.

I now hear on a never ending loop, a report on Fox 5 News that a fervent Christian who stays awake to all hours of night and day, looking for lost numbers scrolled on pieces of paper, is still praying for my lost soul. I'm thankful for that. Anything, can help a lost soul.

The next three nights, for better or worse, I'll be sharing a king size bed with my friend, Phil. He has a boxer's broken nose and the heart that comes with it. His studio is neater than my apartment and he loves to bake! Yellow lace falling from a balustrade veil secrets from a past tragedy he shared with me one afternoon over the past summer. He lay on the bed and peeked his face out of an opening in the transparent material, recounting the story of a lost love, a lost child.

It's getting late. I'll be up early. Moishe and Howard are being picked up by the doggie stay n' play bus at 7am. I have to prepare food baggies, medication, toys, and cushions for them and for me one change of undies, film, camera, flash, makeup, medication, etc , etc ....no credit cards.

New Editions from the Rockaways And Other Series for Sale!

"Fishbowl"

"Mr. Softee"

"Hotel"

"Trainer"

All of the above photographs are certifiable Rockaway Park images. All are 18X18", image size at 14.5X14.5" in edition of 15 and priced all at $300., except "Hotel" which is at $250.

Presently, all of the photographs listed here and below ("Last Stop: Rockaway Park", "City Heat" and "Eyes of Salamanca") are not linked directly to Pay Pal on my site, www.julianabeasley.com . Instead, they can be paid for by directly going to the Pay Pal website.
Payments should be made to jujubeasley@gmail.com.

Please, send me a confirmation number of the sale, the name of the photograph that you ordered, and your name and address, so that I can verify the information. I will then be able to send out your print expediently.

Don't worry, I still have more "Frieda", "Leopard Lady", "Last Stop: Diner" and "Miss Reingold".
All of which are featured on this blog on December 10, 2008 entry.

Scroll Down for More Edition Sales.

New York City Riviera

On a hot summer mid-afternoon, I walk down the boardwalk towards Beach 116. I'm wearing a new green bikini I bought at a local store out in Rockaway Park. Everything is on sale and I can't resist buying something there every time I get off the train from Manhattan. The bathing suit looks like something Jane Fonda might have worn in Barbarella. I have a Rollei Twin Lens Reflex (2.8 Zeiss) with a flash bracket strapped around my neck and about 10 lbs of camera equipment and 120 film in my backpack, braced to my waist. I feel more like a Marine than I will ever feel.

Nothing in sight to shoot, I bet my wages on 115th St. The stakes are high, I will surely find madness in-between the SRO's, boarding houses and empty lots lining the block.

A reddish-brown mastiff tied by a long rope is snoozing in the shade next to a beaten-up trailer, standing idle in a gravel lot. Several electrical cords connect the trailer to the SRO a few yards away. The windows are dusted over in layers of filth. "Honey" is printed on the side. Three beach lounge chairs sit empty in front. No, wheels; just perched on the ground like a bird who flew down to Florida for the winter and never returned home from the summer retreat.

"Hello, Hello," I holler. "Is anyone home?"

The dog wakes, charging me like a clumsy bull from a holding pen. I quickly shuffle backwards on my heels, cradling the dear Rollei in my hands before the imminent fall on my ass. With a quick tug of the rope, the collar chokes him before he can reach me. We stare at one another in a mutually pathetic standoff.

"Yeah, who is it?" A man appears from the busted door of his trailer home. "Eh, don't worry about him," he says as he pets the dog. "He's a big baby. See? Come and pet him." I'm wary, but I do.

"Have a seat. Would you like some water?"

"Can I take a photo of you and your dog?" I asked. When I begin to photograph, he begins a litany of the misdoings of Bush, every so often, saying, "Geesh, they are real assholes around here. They'll believe anything they hear."

"See, I went to Vietnam...." And it continued like that while I stood back and photographed him. Between, pressing down on the shutter and changing film, I could hear every sentence qualified with a whining "geesh". He rolled his eyes back behind tinted eye glasses circa 1978.

This is the day I met Bob or as I like to call him Trailer Bob. We became natural friends right away.

It was the summer of 2008. I was on the NYC Riviera. I put down my camera more often than I would like to admit and lay on the sand with the "tourists". I fearlessly jumped over shallow waves in the Atlantic Ocean and sneaked shots from a shared bottle of Jameson that I had bought in a local liquor store. I had a flawless tan. I became 16 years old. I had traveled to a far-away beach resort.

I met "him" in the most unlikeliest of places. He wasn't a native. He was just passing through until he found another cheap residence that was closer to his job. He was olive skinned, his eyelashes long, his Brooklyn accent undeniable and delectable. He was young and beautiful, ravished and vicious. I had lost all reason. I fell into a euphoric daze. I told him I was his Potato Chip Girl.

By mid-September, I was sitting on a bench with Trailer Bob, the salty wind blowing through our hair. The beach was empty, the boardwalk still. The summer was over. I stood at the railing, looking towards the ocean and dialed his number.

Answering machine.

Answering machine again.

"I'm here", I said. "Ya' know, the Rockaways is just not the same without you."

I closed my cell and turned to Bob. "I really did care about him."

"Geesh!", he said.

Christoph Gielen's ARCADIA at Daniel Cooney Gallery

Don't miss out on Christoph Gielen's wonderful aerial shots and cityscape's at the Daniel Cooney Gallery.

What makes Christoph's work so compelling is the eeriness in which he depicts contemporary urban sprawl. However, don't get me wrong. On the contrary, his work is strangely beautiful. Homes and highways, become dollhouses and tubular patterns. Colors define the graphic quality of the imagery.

One of my favorites is oddly enough, not a aerial shot, but a haunting image taken in Shanghai. Deep blue envelopes the night and a building under construction. From side to side, top to bottom, gradations of indigo are broken into crisscross lines while a single guardrail intersects the bottom frame with a rusty yellow.

Super Kudos Christoph!

And not to mention, a little bird chirping outside my window in Jersey City told me that Christoph not only has a passion for being strapped in hanging out of helicopters, but he's sweet as cherry pie.

The show will be up till January 31st! So, get on your long johns and take a hike over to Chelsea. If yours truly can do it with five layers on...

Darn', it's cold out there!

Yep, the Holiday Sale is still going on....so, get it while they are hot! Put these little toasty-gem prints next to your Menorahs and trees and make a loved one know the love of the Rockaways! Queens!