Jake Price

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  • A Plea to Save the Elizabeth Street Garden

    A Plea to Save the Elizabeth Street Garden

    A Plea to Save the Elizabeth Street Garden

    The Elizabeth Street Garden, on March 30, 2025. Visitors and volunteers hope it is not the last Sunday that the garden will exist.

    When verbal arguments confuse, obfuscate, and deceive, visuals are all we have left. In supporting the garden, my intent is that the appreciation of this place through images may become another possibility for its preservation.

    A Stroke of a Pen Can Save the Garden

    The Elizabeth Street Garden is facing imminent closure by the City of New York.

    It is inconceivable that such a place of respite, healing, great beauty and civic worth would even be considered to be set for demolition-and yet, unless the our elected officials step in, the flowers in the garden will be crushed by bulldozers, trees felled by chainsaws and the statues carted off—to erase this space would represent an act of unconscionable violence wielded upon us by our very own government.

    If the garden is closed, siding against the thousands who seek to preserve it, the City will have chosen Pennrose, a Pennsylvania-based development company, over the very people it is meant to serve. Closure by the city could happen at any moment, despite an ongoing federal trial, as the garden clings to its last hope, one day at a time. However, none of this would be necessary if the mayor simply designated the garden as a land trust—a decision he can make with a stroke of the pen for a fee of $1.

    To help save the garden please send an urgent message to the governor and mayor.

    The following photographs were taken on Sunday, March 30, 2025. Hopefully this will not be the last Sunday for the garden to be enjoyed.

    Celebrating a Uniqueness of Place

    To destroy this space, especially by an out of state developer, would be a grave injustice to the people of New York City. The Elizabeth Street Garden welcomes the young and elderly, visitors from near and far, and people of all faiths and backgrounds.
    The city claims the new development will benefit the elderly, yet they already receive far more from this space than they would from a for-profit corporation intent on destroying it.
    Spring leaves sprout. Will the garden survive for other springs to come?
    Spring vines envelop the statues as new life awakens.

    The city and developers threatening this sanctuary claim their plans, informed more by clip art than anything even remotely touching on anything slightly enlightened, will include greenspace, using the term generically, failing to recognize that store-bought “greenery” can never replace the native plants of New York City that live in the garden, nurtured by volunteers to sustain bird and insect habitats. Nor can it substitute for the carefully selected flora that curators and volunteers have thoughtfully arranged to create a living, breathing ecosystem.

    As for housing, there are currently three available city owned lots within a mile of the garden that could serve as suitable locations. Seniors living there would still have access to this rare and restorative space. Rather than destroying the garden, the city should recognize it as an essential resource for their well-being in conjunction with any new housing.

    The Sunday Tai Chi Ritual

    This past Sunday, beneath gray skies, and despite the chilly and humid morning in the low 50s, the weekly tai chi session carried on, led, as always, by Sherry Zhang. Many familiar faces that I saw during summer’s languid days were present despite the cold and gray, a testament to their dedication and the deep need for this essential regenerative practice.

    Sherry Zhang teaches tai chi every weekend in the garden.
    The uniqueness of place is equally important as the exercise itself. It’s one of the few places in New York where people can be in nature and exercise at the same time.
    The classes happen year round, in the cold and the heat a testament to the need of the class. The gazebo in the rear was designed by the Olmsted Brothers, sons of renowned landscape architect Frederick Law Olmsted, for the Burrwood Estate in Cold Spring Harbor, Long Island, in 1898
    The age diversity is a testament to the common good that this class provides to the community.

    The garden as a work of art in and of itself

    On February 18, 2025 A federal lawsuit was filed to protect the Garden under the Visual Artists Rights Act (VARA), arguing that it is an “irreplaceable physical and social sculpture.”

    Elements in the garden evoke the aesthetic of Gilded Age estates. Once an empty lot strewn with heroin needles, crack vials, and the detritus of a collapsing neighborhood, it was transformed into the oasis it is today by Allan Reiver in 1991. Since Allan’s passing in 2021, his son, Joseph, has meticulously tended to the land—planting trees, maintaining the lawns and flowers, and preserving the historically significant stone statuary and architectural elements salvaged from across the East Coast.

    The main path that leads one into the garden is reminiscent of Axial layout is a fundamental principle in landscape design, particularly prominent in French formal gardens. It involves organizing garden elements along one or more imaginary lines, creating a sense of order, symmetry, and visual flow.

    The winding gravel path, central to the garden’s design, creates a choreographed experience, framing views of sculptures and the flora. From the neoclassical revival mansion Lynnewood Hall outside of Philadelphia, there’s 20th-century limestone balustrade designed by French landscape architect Jacques-Henri-Auguste Gréber, flanked by two large stone lions. From Burrwood Estate in Cold Spring Harbor, New York, there is an iron gazebo designed by the Olmsted Brothers, sons of Frederick Law Olmsted. This mirrors formal European garden traditions, where pathways guide perception and interaction. Reiver’s placement of artifacts (e.g., columns, birdbaths, wrought-iron furniture) alongside native plants and fig trees reflects a collage of materials which Allen said was “to create an oasis of tranquility in the middle of a dense urban environment.”

    The sphinx, along with other sculptures in the garden, is considered part of a “nationally significant cultural landscape and work of outsider art” according to the Cultural Landscape Foundation.
    The balustrade in Elizabeth Street Garden acts as an axial framing device, similar to how 18th-century gardens used structures to frame views of the surrounding landscape.
    The garden also blends British influences that complement the French ones. Off the main path are smaller ones that cut through flower beds, reminiscent of English landscape gardens, which replaced the straight alleys of formal French gardens.
    The concept of Elizabeth Street Garden as an outdoor museum stems from its unique blend of art, architecture, and nature. Allan Reiver, the garden’s creator, transformed the space into a cohesive artistic environment. He arranged various sculptural elements to create a unified aesthetic experience, essentially turning the garden into a large-scale sculptural work

    The Fig Tree

    Every day in the garden has its own rhythm and tempo, making each one unique. After the tai chi classes ended on the east side, volunteers uncovered a fig tree from its winter hibernation on the west side. The 12-year-old tree, donated by an artist from Japan who fell in love with the garden, has since matured into a source of abundance, offering its fruit to volunteers and visitors alike. If it survives, it will continue to nourish all who come here for generations.

    Though the weight of the garden’s potential destruction loomed over the morning, a lightness returned as volunteers carefully stripped away the burlap sacks insulated with hay, revealing the tender branches within. With each sack removed, there was a quiet recognition that—for now—the garden was still open, the tree still alive. While the future is uncertain, one thing was clear: if this place is to endure, what we do now will lay the foundation for whatever refuge remains.

    To help save this tree and this garden please send an urgent message to the governor and mayor.

    The fig tree was donated by a Japanese artist and is 12 years old. In the fall its branches were covered to protect it from the cold of the winter months.
    Megan, a volunteer helps unwrap the fig tree for the summer season.
    Twine from the tree is preserved and would later be composted. There is not an element in the garden that is wasted.
    This is after all an urban garden: Flower embroidered Docs mix with the new classical elements and surrounding nature.
    Megan is one of the thousands of volunteers that come to keep the garden thriving throughout the year.
    Longtime volunteer and garden organizer Emmanuelle Chiche.
    Wilting flowers await composting.
    Emmanuelle removes the last burlap from the fig tree. The volunteers know one thing for sure—nature won’t wait for court decisions. Trees need tending, weeds need pulling, and only through their care can this place have a future.
  • Threads of Resilience: Ukraine’s Cultural Fight After Three Years of War

    Threads of Resilience: Ukraine’s Cultural Fight After Three Years of War

    Threads of Resilience: Ukraine’s Cultural Fight After Three Years of War

    A recovered piece of artwork that was shot through the center by Russian forces. The Ukrainian Ministry of Culture and Strategic Communications reports that 1,333 cultural heritage sites have been damaged or destroyed across Ukraine.

    Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe to assure the survival and the success of liberty.

    —John F. Kennedy

    If our fellow democracies are not secure, we cannot be secure. If you are threatened, we’re threatened. If you’re not at peace, we cannot be at peace. An attack on you is an attack on us.

    —Ronald Reagan

    3 Years of War

    These photos were made while making my upcoming film, “Bone and Thread.” While making the film, one of my goals was to live as normal a life in Kyiv as possible to illustrate how life and culture persevere. The “Mosaic of War” was never meant to be an exhaustive photo essay. Most of the photos were taken on an iPhone—because it is the tool most people use to capture their daily lives, I felt it was the most honest way to document mine during my four trips to Ukraine.

    The mixture of civility and spectre of the most savage brutality are a constant. To put this into perspective, if Kyiv were New York City then the distance from Bucha to Verkhovna Rada, Ukraine’s parliament, is comparable to the distance from Bayside, Queens to City Hall. The atrocities that happened on the outskirts of Kyiv came…THAT CLOSE.

    The relentless destruction that defines daily life in Ukraine is matched only by the people’s steadfast preservation of their culture and identity — a thread that weaves through this mosaic. When peace, a Just Peace, finally arrives, It’s Ukraine’s that will form the foundation of the nation’s future and reinvigorate all of our respective democracies.

    Civility in Darkness

    This is a war about heritage. It’s not only a war for our territory or for wide political goals. It’s a war against our memory, historical memory. It’s a war against our identity. Against our culture. And, of course, a war against our future.

    Ihor Poshyvailo, Director of the Maidan Museum

    Despite nightly bombings, people go to the gym, eat at restaurants, and attend cultural events. The daily narrative we receive often chases the most violent extremes at the frontlines, and while this coverage is essential, it also does a disservice—it leaves people without a true understanding of what Ukraine is about. Though the war has slipped from the headlines, life in Kyiv remains extreme in its own way: a civilized city, relentlessly bombarded, enduring a reality that no other metropolitan city would tolerate. A version of 9/11 happens every day in Kyiv.

    This short was recorded on the evening of the largest bombing campaign at that point in the war, in November 2022. Since then, there have been many more ‘largest bombings.’ That night, Kyiv was without electricity, running water, or heat, just as the first snow began to fall. In response, many turned to their culture, embracing it as a source of strength to endure the long, dark night.

    Index of Destruction

    The first step in liquidating a people is to erase its memory. Destroy its books, its culture, its history. Then have someone write new books, manufacture a new culture, invent a new history. Before long the nation will begin to forget what it is and what it was.

    —Milan Kundera

    The Ukrainian Ministry of Culture and Strategic Communications reports that 1,333 cultural heritage sites have been damaged or destroyed across Ukraine.

    UNESCO has verified damage to 343 cultural sites as of February 2024, including 31 museums, 127 religious sites, 151 buildings of historical and/or artistic interest, 19 monuments, 14 libraries, and one archive.

    The destruction extends beyond heritage sites to cultural infrastructure. 2,185 cultural infrastructure facilities have been affected, with 409 completely destroyed.

    Bone & Thread

    It was important to my parents to pass down Ukrainian culture and history to us. They were afraid that Ukraine would lose its culture, because the Soviet Union was conducting Russification….I firmly believe that art heals and unites people. It connects me to the history of my family, to my Ukrainian roots, and it compels me to take action and reminds me of my duty to keep the culture alive.

    —Ola Rondiak

    My upcoming film features the artist Ola Rondiak and her seminal work, what she calls, “contemporary art with a historical conscience” exploring four generations of maternal lineage and how history intertwines with the current conflict.. Without works such as hers, there would be no robust defense of the nation because what this work does is set historical precedent, giving people a kind of cultural DNA with which to defend themselves.

    Art becomes a profound tool in combating the earliest ambitions of genocidal intent. If individuals or communities fail to define themselves, they risk being defined by others. This is why artists are some of the first to be rounded up. However, when artists assert their identity through creative expression, communities and entire nations resist erasure. Art proclaims: “I am who I am—you have no agency over am.”

    When I was in Kyiv as the city was being bombed, the prime target was civilian infrastructure that left millions without heat electricity and running water. Russian intent was to literally freeze millions to death. During that time history acted as a kind of antibody to the savagery that was visited upon this civilized and cultured city. People I spoke with said ,“We have seen this before and survived through it. By knowing our history we can see the genocidal intent of this current war and defend against it.”That is why the invading belligerents try so hard to destroy culture and the memory associated with it, and that is why the citizens of this nation will never relinquish it and are fighting as they are through such terrible hardship.

    Art gives people a kind of cultural DNA with which to defend themselves. Ola’s art in particular serves as a visual chronicle of Ukrainian resilience over generations and centuries where one persons strength is passed onto the next, weaving together symbols, traditions, and personal narratives and finally influencing the national and even global narrative of democratic prerogatives. This artistic lineage creates a tangible connection to the past, reinforcing a sense of shared identity and purpose. By embedding historical struggles and triumphs into her work, Ola provides a cultural touchstone that reminds Ukrainians of their enduring spirit and collective strength.

  • USAID In Africa

    USAID In Africa

    A loving father and his daughter (who is HIV+) wait to visit/visit a doctor at the Bukoba Regional Hospital, Tanzania.

    USAID: The End of a Lifeline in Africa

    In 2014, I documented HIV, tuberculosis, and malaria treatment programs, as well as nurse and doctor training initiatives across Africa, focusing on how investments in health had significantly improved well-being across the continent. What I witnessed was remarkable—unlike anything I had seen in my many years working there. Investments in equipment and infrastructure had transformed entire hospitals, equipping them with modern technology and hygienic facilities. My work reflected not just a continent in need but one progressing toward prosperity, even as challenges remained.

    These photos capture that progress—many of those pictured were living with HIV yet leading healthy, fulfilling lives, a testament to the impact of sustained investment in public health. The majority, if not all of these locations received funding from USAID and no longer do.

    A decade earlier, at the height of the HIV pandemic, I had seen entire villages devastated and was deeply critical of my own nation’s inaction. Yet, under a president with whom I profoundly disagreed, a transformation in global public health took shape. Through the President’s Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR), launched by George W. Bush, along with USAID, I saw firsthand the immense return on investment—lives saved, medical infrastructure built, and goodwill toward the United States heightened. Beyond being sound public policy, these efforts were also a strategic move at a time when multiple global actors sought to diminish the U.S.

    Rural Health Motivators visited homes in remote areas, engaging women in conversations about health. When the COVID-19 pandemic struck, these same healthcare workers walked those familiar roads, playing a crucial role in slowing the spread of the virus.
    A young man is tested for HIV. (Rapid test result: negative.) Rural outreach teams goto great lengths to test people for HIV in their homes and council them on how to live healthy lives surrounding the Lake Victoria region.
    A blood sample for tuberculosis. Modern, refrigerated facilities have made tests much more accurate and even feasible, as equipment before USAID investments was lacking.
    The Nicoadala District Mobile Clinic with decals of participating organizations from the United States and globally.
    The laboratory room with GeneXpert machine (rapid test TB) and lab technician in the TB clinic at TEBA headquarters in Maseru.
    The x-ray room in Mwanyamala Hospital, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.
    Student training at Mwanyamala Hospital, Dar es Salaam, Tanzania.
    Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia.
    Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia
    A pregnant woman receives a checkup from a male midwife at Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia.
    A community-based ARV distribution program in Nicoadala District, Mozambique, operated through a network of women who gathered weekly to collect antiretrovirals and distribute them to surrounding villages. This system later proved essential during the COVID-19 pandemic, as the established networks helped curb the spread of the virus and deliver aid to those who fell ill.
    A rural patient is given ARV refills at a clinic in Berea District, Leshoto.
    A woman and her daughter is visited by a TEBA Care supporter in her house. Households are visited of those miners that are diagnosed with TB. HCW’s also visit family members who might be infected because they share the house with the infected miner. TEBA Supporters also sign up people with a cell phone so that they can easily be reached to check their status and see if they are taking their medications.
    A woman pumps water at the CMS Gbagbam-Faith based clinic, Ivory coast. USAID has contributed significantly to improving access to drinking water in Côte d’Ivoire, particularly through its programs targeting both urban and rural areas.
    Mother and mentors coffee ceremony at Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia.
    Mother and mentors coffee ceremony at Bishoftu Hospital, Ethiopia.
    Mothers wait on benches at the clinic where their sons went to be circumcised in a rural village near the Kagera Sugar Company, Bukoba, Tanzania.
    This is young women is of the many who benefitted from USAID. Walking down a rural road in Leshoto, she was making her way to a clinic. She wanted to make sure that she was healthy and safe for those she chose to be with and was going to get tested for HIV.
    HIV+ Women dance as a act of supporting supporting each other in Berea in Hospital, Swaziland.
    HIV+ children play in the waiting area of the pediatric clinic of the Bukoba Regional Hospital, Tanzania. HIV is no longer the life ending disease it used to be. Great strides have been made to treat children such as these to that they can lead healthy and happy lives..
    HIV+ teens attend informational sessions at the Baylor Teen Clinic where they also play football and dance. The clinic happens every Saturday and is essential of these boys and girls lives. It is the one of the few places where they can get to gather and not have to worry about the stigma of being HIV+. They support each other and bring each other in in a welcoming and free manner.
  • USAID: Imperfect Aid, Essential Relief

    USAID: Imperfect Aid, Essential Relief

    Port au Prince, April 6 2010
    The Petionville golf course, once a retreat for wealthy Haitians and foreigners, became an IDP camp after the 2010 earthquake, where USAID played a substantial role in tent distribution and food aid—USAID’s role in Haiti was deeply flawed, including a $140 million food program that ultimately harmed Haitian farmers by undermining local agricultural production.

    USAID: Imperfect Aid, Essential Relief

    In post-disaster scenarios, I often found myself deeply critical when I saw the USAID logo emblazoned on tents and cans of food. Given the immense wealth of the United States, these contributions felt insufficient compared to the dire conditions in which refugees and internally displaced people were forced to live—and yet without it millions would have been dead. Over 20 years, I documented this flawed and essential in aid in Kosovo, Albania and Pakistan, amongst other nations. No country illustrates both how essential and flawed it was than Haiti, following the 2010 earthquake. USAID allocated approximately $2.3 billion for reconstruction and development. However, only about 2 percent of these funds—just over $48 million—were awarded directly to Haitian organizations, with the majority going to firms in Washington, D.C., Maryland, or Virginia. Over my

    At the same time, despite my government’s contradictory policies in many of these regions which exasperated the need and deepened poverty, USAID’s help (however much of a bandaid, and a small one at that)remained absolutely essential. Those who have since dismantled the agency were well aware of its flaws. However, their mandate should have been to address these shortcomings and implement meaningful reforms, not to erase the institution entirely.

    Muzaffarabad, Pakistan, November 25, 2005
    Under president George W. Bush, The U.S. responded Pakistan’s October 8, 2005, earthquake, pledging $50 million for initial relief and reconstruction. Assistance included emergency shelter, food, water, medical supplies, and military support, with ongoing coordination to address evolving needs.
    Mapou, Haiti, May 30, 2004
    Wheat distributed by US Central command to displaced Haitians following the 2005 flooding which killed over 1,000 people in this rural village.
    Bara Kau, Pakistan, November, 2, 2005

    USAID/OFDA in Washington committed $1 million to be provided through the American Red Cross in response to a Preliminary Emergency Appeal issued by the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies. This was in addition to the $100,000 announced yesterday by the U.S. Embassy in Islamabad.
    Port au Prince, Haiti, Petionville IDP Camp, April 8. 2010
    Despite its significant shortcomings, USAID played a crucial role in distributing food and tents in this camp after the 2010 earthquake.
    Mapou, Haiti May 30, 2004
    Children look at marine Chinooks as US Central Command distributed food.
    Mapou, Haiti, May 30 2024
    A boy holds a handful of rice as U.S. Central Command distributes food aid.
    Port Au Prince, May 31, 2004
    Following the February 2004 ousting of President Jean-Bertrand Aristide, Haiti was plunged into political turmoil. Concerned about potential mass migration to the U.S., President Clinton deployed the U.S. military under the pretext of maintaining order. In this image, U.S. Marines search young men for contraband—an act that, in practice, often amounted to routine harassment rather than genuine security enforcement.
    Port Au Prince, May 31, 2004
    Rations from USAID and the World Food Program were sold on the street, although they were intended solely for humanitarian assistance.
    Mapou, Haiti, May 30 2024
    Humanitarian assistance that was delivered by US Central Command was distributed by the Red Cross.
    Port Au Prince, May 31, 2004
    U.S. Marines and Canadian forces await a Chinook helicopter delivering humanitarian aid to flood-stricken Mapou. Given the region’s extreme poverty and urgent need, the militarized response was excessive. In Haiti, a country with a long and fraught history of foreign military interventions, the heavily armed presence of U.S. and Canadian forces during the Mapou flood relief effort was both appreciated and felt more imposing than reassuring to many.
    Kukes, Albania, March 1999
    While food distribution from donor states is essential, it does not come without arrogance from the agencies that deliver it; pictured here, an unknown aid worker tosses aid to the desperate. Arrogance aside, the U.S. Department of Defense shipped 500,000 Humanitarian Daily Rations (HDRs) to Albania, while USAID/OFDA contributed an additional 300,000 HDRs to support food distribution efforts.
    Kukes, Albania, March 1999
    USAID coordinated closely with the UN World Food Program (WFP) and other NGOs to ensure food supplies reached refugees in camps and host communities.
    Kukes, Albania March 1999
    14,000 tons of food per month were supplied by the U.S. government (including USAID) for distribution to refugees in camps and those staying with host families in Albania. Family food packs, airlifted from Utah, were distributed to 3,000 refugee families. These packs included essential items like rice, wheat, and cooking oil.
    Central Haiti, Early June, 2004.
    After Hurricane Alex hit Haiti thousands where left homeless and hunderds where killed when their village, Mapou, was flooded. With food supplies already dangerously low (the countryside has been been destroyed and therefor people cannot grow their own food) thousands risked starvation. Aid was distributed by the United States and The Red Cross.
    Central Haiti, November 2010
    Already reeling from the January 12 earthquake and an influx of foreign aid that undercut local farmers, Haiti was further devastated by heavy storms, which caused severe flooding, particularly in the western regions. Pictured: A flooded field as a man carries a bag cooking charcoal.
    Muzaffarabad, Pakistan, November 25, 2005
    A mother and her daughter boil water for cooking. While the 2010 earthquake claimed over 230,000 lives, a harsh winter loomed, threatening even more casualties. A concerted global effort—led in part by the U.S.—became critical. Without winterized tents, deaths from exposure were expected to surpass those from the quake, making rapid intervention essential. Thanks to contributions from USAID and other international partners, that crisis was largely averted.
    Panjgran, Pakistan, November 15, 2005.
    Panjgran, a remote village in Punjab Provience, was among the most vulnerable, accessible only by helicopter and lacking tents before aid arrived. Here, residents receive blankets and supplies from Médecins Sans Frontières (which does not accept government funding) to prepare for the winter. However, the United States’ contribution cannot be overlooked or discounted: USAID provided $41.8 million in aid, including airlifts of 45,000 blankets, 1,570 winterized tents, water purification units, and other essential supplies.
    Kukes, Albania, March 1999.
    After crossing the border from Kosovo to Albania a woman departs to a destination unknown. USAID provided critical aid to Kosovar refugees, including emergency shelter, food, medical assistance, and clean water, helping thousands survive displacement and harsh conditions.
    Muzaffarabad, Pakistan, November 25, 2005
    A girl blows on the last ember of a fire along the Jehlum river. Without the support from USAID she very likely would not have survived through the winer.

  • The Invisible Season

    Originally conceived as an immersive project to compliment Unknown Spring The Invisible Season was the inspiration for the film of the same name which can be viewed on Amazon Prime.

    View Film

    Immersive Project: While Fukushima is primarily known as a site of disaster, it is much more than that. The media, which only arrived to cover the destruction and left once the story faded, missed the full scope of the region. Created over the course of a decade, The Invisible Season offers an in-depth examination of Fukushima in all its breadth. The nuclear meltdown not only devastated the land but also uprooted the identity of its people. A province with millennia of history and traditions, Fukushima was thrust into the global spotlight as a symbol of disaster, its proud heritage reduced to a post-crisis narrative. The Invisible Season delves deep into this neglected culture, offering a window into the region’s rich past and the irreversible loss suffered by its people

    Recovery through art

    Four days after the earthquake, Keisyu Wada made the difficult decision to leave his home atop Ogaya Mountain, a remote area that had been subjected to extremely high levels of black rain—radiation-tainted rainfall. Fleeing with his wife and four dogs, they sought refuge in a dormitory in southern Japan. After a month away from what he called his “dream home,” Wada decided to return, despite the dangerously high radiation levels. He believed that living away from the place he loved was not truly living. He accepted the risk, choosing a shorter life at home over a longer one in exile.

    Upon returning, Wada began creating art on a tablet to express his frustration. He felt betrayed by both the government and TEPCO, the company that owned the nuclear facility. His artwork, characterized by harsh lines and non-gradated colors, was both a critique of the situation and a lament for what had been lost. It would take years before he could begin expressing himself through watercolors, using softer lines and gentle color transitions. He noted that it was only then, through this medium, that he could truly begin to heal.

    When the power plant melted down, the government imposed a 20 km exclusion zone, which ultimately proved ineffective. Radiation doesn’t move in neat circles; it spreads depending on the wind. As a result, some areas outside the zone, like Wada-san’s home, remained open but highly irradiated, while other locations, such as Odaka town, were closed. As radiation levels became better understood, Odaka was allowed to reopen, but only for brief periods in the afternoon.

    Tomoko Kobayashi was one of its residents. Her family had run a ryokan, a traditional family inn, for at least 300 years. She was one of the first to return. When she found her main street overgrown with weeds and debris, she began planting flowers, hoping to bring back the brightness of her childhood memories. She continued to plant seeds in the desolation, hoping that one day she would be able to reopen her ryokan. In 2015, the town did reopen, and thanks to the seeds she had planted, others began to return as well.

    From the editors of Voices From Japan where these poems were collected: Since the Great Eastern Japan Earthquake & Tsunami on 3/11 in 2011, and the subsequent nuclear disasters, many affected people in Tohoku and other concerned Japanese started writing poems.

    Many painful but beautiful tanka, a traditional poetic form of only 31 syllables, have been published every week in newspapers in Japan. Why do the Japanese write poems during a time of crisis? Voices from Japan are usually not very audible in the world. But when Japanese voices are composed as tanka, amazingly, one can hear them as a common world language.—Isao &  Kyoko Tsujimoto

  • Jose Andreas

  • Toxic Splendor on the Gowanus Canal

    Toxic Splendor on the Gowanus Canal

    On the hottest days, pollutants in the Gowanus Canal bubble up to the surface, creating a toxic slick that is at once kaleidoscopic and deadly. This mesmerizing yet hazardous phenomenon transforms the canal’s surface into a swirling canvas of iridescent hues. The vibrant patterns, reminiscent of oil on water, mask the dangerous cocktail of contaminants lurking beneath. As temperatures rise, this toxic beauty serves as a stark reminder of the canal’s long history of industrial pollution and the ongoing environmental challenges it faces.

  • George Floyd Protests

    The Other Faces of the George Floyd Protests

    My experience during the LA Riots resurfaced as protests over George Floyd’s murder swept the country. I titled this series The Other Faces because, as I looked out my window in Brooklyn, I saw thousands of people peacefully passing by. While headlines in the New York Times called the protests mostly peaceful, the publication ran photos of the mostly violent, perverting their own coverage and what those of us on the ground were all too obviously seeing.

    Rather than chase the news, I chose to listen to those protesting to understand their perspectives beyond the dismissive “Woke” label pinned on them—an attempt to trivialize their message and reduce their ideas to something they were not. I sought the more subtle moments. At the end of each day, I wrote a diary entry reflecting on the events, capturing what I had seen and heard.

    The Other Faces of The George Floyd Protests, June 2, 2020

    Over the past couple of days dear friends have called me asking me what it’s like in New York City. Are the protests peaceful they ask? It seems that they are, they say, but are they? Judging from what’s seen on tv it only looks as if the world is on fire. There is indeed a lot of fire and cruelty spread by the United States 45th president, but there is a lot more strength and positivity amongst those in the streets that will eventually lead us out of this national nightmare.

    If our publications only show the chaos and violence, mostly of young men of color, turning over police cars then that just feeds into the stereotypes of them and gives readers the impression that that’s all there is to these protests. Yet there are millions more who have ideas, are constructive and their voices and ideas need to be heard as prominently as the violence is covered.

    The Other Faces of The George Floyd Protests, June 3, 2020

    After the daily evening rally (and, on this evening, prayer session) at Barclays the crowd marched off just before the 8PM curfew shouting, “Fuck your curfew,” and headed to downtown Brooklyn where clashes between the protesters and police would ensue. I decided to stay at Barclays. I was interested in those who remained.

    In the Barclays plaza, which has become somewhat of a town square now, I found some remarkable moments. The moments I witnessed were remarkable not because there was blood or fire or tear gas (those moments, as almost solely focused on by our media outlets, have become all too common and I do not believe are representative of what these protests are truly about), but because there was a there was an attempt by those who remained to probe and understand the other.

    Remaining in the plaza were a handful of young people who were talking with the assorted police. The crowds gone, everyone somewhat let their guard down. The discussions were intense, at turns accusatory and pleading, but the remarkable part was that there were prolonged moments when both protester and police officer listened to one another.

    Looking at the policewoman and men, I wondered if they saw in the protesters the children they might go home to after the long day. The protesters, in turn, said that, if these officers had children, they would be in the streets advocating for them if they were ever harmed. The discussion vacillated between the attempt to co-opt support to accusation of institutional racism. No doubt there was a blue line between the protesters and the entrenched power amongst the police, but beneath the positioning I felt a glimmer of hope not in the words that were spoken, but in the words that weren’t—when the other side was listening.

    In all, the dialogue and listening lasted for about 20 minutes, then everyone went along their way. Due to NYPD protocol, those in uniform could not address many of the questions and statements the protesters made. I had the feeling that had they been able to speak as individuals and not people beholden to uniform a lot more understanding could have been had in that moment. I am not saying that the two sides would have agreed, but at the very least a more significant dialogue could have been achieved.

    The Other Faces of The George Floyd Protests, June 4, 2020

    What I saw last night goes to the heart of the problem with what is so wrong with the United States of America. In a passive crowd the police rushed in and aggressively attacked a black man, dragging him through the crowd and shoving him into a black unmarked police vehicle that was much too small for this man’s large build. There was terror in his eyes as he was roughly shoved into the vehicle. As they pushed him down, he shouted to the crowd to remember his name. The last moment I saw of him he was in pain as they applied their pressure techniques to drag him down.

    After the NYC security force vehicle drove away, the following moments were tense. The officers had a wild raging bull look in their eyes. Like a bull who wants to attack whatever it sees some brandished their clubs and threatened a livery cab passing by. Every object near them seemed to be the equivalent of a crimson cape. In those tense moments the whole protest could have lit up and one more provocation would have ended in violence and many more arrests. It was only diffused when the protesters took a moment of silence. As for the man arrested himself, what did he do? I saw some officers holding a hockey stick near the vehicle he was shoved into, which I assumed was related to the perceived offence. If, indeed that’s all it was, couldn’t this incident have been dealt with in a different way through reasonable communication?

    Institutionally, this is a nation of America First, and it is a nation of, “you are with us or you are against us,” it is “all options are on the table and we will respond at a date and time of our choosing.” And that mentality trickles down into the fabric of our nation to the point where a peaceful giant of a man is choked to death under the knee of an officer as three others look on. The murderous knee was what physically murdered Mr. Floyd, but the surrounding officer’s apathy was equally egregious. Do nothing, stand aside apathy kills as well. Do nothing stand aside apathy is what currently defines this nation’s domestic and foreign policy. Until that changes the murders, like the forceful arrest last night where police forces acted with continued impunity in Grand Army Plaza will continue.

    The events in Grand Army Plaza represented the worst part of police in America. What transpired on the streets this weekend represented the best of this nation and also of the police department where protesters and police spoke and tried to at least find some starting point of common ground. It felt like a turning point in history. The critical mass here is in solidarity. The 45th president has attempted to eviscerate this nation’s democracy and cohesion. With the internal threat to this nation’s very existence people have never been more together and concerned for each other and the principals on which this nation was founded. My neighborhood, Prospect Heights, is at the crossroads of the movement. With the Barclays Center 5 minutes from my home and Grand Army Plaza a moment’s walk away Brooklyn neighborhoods converge where the young and old, every ethnic, gender and economic group converge. All are saying “Enough!” It feels that we have reached the critical mass needed to move forward out of this time of ignorance and cruelty brought upon us by this president and his party.

    After the choking murder of Mr. Floyd, we know what needs to be ended. But there is also ferment about what has to happen moving forward. How is it that the wealthiest nation in the world cannot afford pencils for teachers, cannot manage to get the most basic masks to nurses and doctors risking their lives to keep us healthy? The answer is simple: those in power simply don’t care as evidenced by their actions. The overt pursuit of profit is all that does matter and anyone else who does not grab for that wealth is left out. These protests are also about ending that and having the billions that are spent on the military and gained in the stock market to flow back into our communities and our civil instructions. After what’s the point of having a great military if the country its protecting can’t educate its children, can’t keep its populace healthy and sees its institutions and infrastructure crumble?

    The Other Faces of The George Floyd Protests, June 7, 2020

    This is a short film I made in Grand Army Plaza on June 7, 2020. On June 7th it felt like a dam had broken.The days leading up to the 7th were tense. Just a week before police cars burnt in the neighborhood next to mine and much of the country saw the same. However, in the course of that week a solidarity throughout society was building. Surrounding the Black Lives Matter movement were people of every ethnic group, every income group, every gender. So many in America were saying that the violence against people of color must stop. As the peaceful movement built throughout the week the presence of police lessened. The confluence of so many groups and their sheer numbers said that this is too big to stop and the protests can no longer be bullied. On Sunday there was a sense of completion for the moment—protest gave way to art and music and there was a sense amongst people that, after protesting in support for a man who could not breathe, a collective breath could be taken.

    The art, music and movement in Grand Army Plaza were expressive of the life returning and I hope provide a kind of spiritual roadmap moving forward of how life should be and what we should strive for as we depart the age of apathy and enter into one of empathy, understanding and deeper listening.

  • Shivering in the Sun

    Each day, hundreds of migrants who come from central and south America pass through Lecheria, a small factory town just outside of Mexico City. From their countries they travel thousands of miles by freight train with the hope of reaching the United States. Lecheria represents a crossraods. ItÕs there that the tracks diverge and determine whether a person is to end up in California, Arizona or Texas.

    Shivering in the Sun

    Originally published by the BBC.

    Each day, hundreds of migrants who come from central and south America pass through Lecheria, a small factory town just outside of Mexico City.  From their countries they travel thousands of miles by freight train with the hope of reaching the United States. Lecheria represents a crossraods.  It’s there that the tracks diverge and determine whether a person is to end up in California, Arizona or Texas.

    Many said they where unhappy about leaving their families behind and would rather be near the warmth of their wives, children, mothers, fathers, friends.  But their villages and way of life are dying.  There is no employment and so the only way to help support their families is to head north and send money back when they can.

    The journey is hardest and most lonely for the youngest, some whom are no more than15 years old.  For many of them it’s their first time away from home.  Without money they travel on empty stomachs; their bodies are so weak that they shiver in the sun.

  • Rodney King Riots

    Intro

    I was 19 when the Rodney King Riots broke out. I sat in history class, learning about the civil rights era, and thought, What am I doing studying history when it’s unfolding right outside the window? I raised my hand, told Ms. Freedman I needed to use the bathroom, then rushed to my car, grabbed my Nikon 6006, and headed downtown.

    It was the first important story I covered. Initially, I found myself amidst the fires and looted shops—what the media was focused on—but as I moved through the streets, I saw something different. I saw the long faces of the people who bought their milk and eggs there, the ones who visited the tailors for their clothes and the shops where they bought their shoes. I began to focus on them, because while the news cameras captured the violence of a few, they failed to show the many who were unjustly labeled. That experience has shaped my perspective ever since.