Category — Site Authors

While an enjoyable read, it wasn’t until I reached the final pages of Charles Li’s “The Bitter Sea” that the novel evoked any real feeling in me, it was the humanity shown in his father that ultimately enabled me to better appreciate the work as a whole, which was a personal attempt to describe Li’s own journey for his father’s affection.

Often jumping from place to place and time to time, one constant throughout Li’s narrative was that he kept moving along, and spent limited time on describing each part of his childhood. While there may be some criticism of the tempo he set throughout, I found it quite a good representation of his childhood as a whole: getting acclimated to a certain situation only to leave it for an entirely new one soon after; we, as the readers often felt the same thing during certain points of the book, as often just as we were getting accustomed to a certain environment, Li propelled the storyline in another direction. Had it been a work of fiction, this may not have been appropriate, but since the work was non-fiction, and Charles Li is the best person to write about the life of Charles Li, I have no problems with the direction he took the novel in.

An argument many will try to make is that by separating the book into distinctly different and separate parts, Li created too much of a disconnect between each phase of his life. On the other hand, I found it more so a unique touch rather than a weakness of the book; because no matter how you looked at it, each past ‘life’ of Li contributed to how he presently lived; the attitude he had while in the slums of the Nanjing was undoubtedly present in him many years later even when he was tutoring as a young adult. Certainly there were points in the book in which Li could have finessed his change in settings and subplots, but the abruptness that was very often apparent was fitting for the childhood in which he led. From the start of the story it was obvious, Li had no intention of documenting a ‘sob story’ so when moments of emotional importance arose, to me, they felt much more genuine than if they had been seen throughout the story all along.

Before I left Manhattan on Monday night, I decided to make a stop at the Feast of San Gennaro. As I neared the festival, music blared, roads were closed and lining the streets were green, red, and white colored tents hanging with signs promising the best cannoli, zeppole or sausage and pepper sandwich in the world. Even if they happened not to be the best, their smell filled the air and they were enticing nonetheless. Stretching down several blocks, the Feast of San Gennaro seemed to be in full swing as I turned to walk down Mulberry Street.

However, despite how festive the atmosphere seemed, certain elements of the event were unquestionably commercialized and no doubt different from the tradition that has been present in the Little Italy area for the past eighty-four years. Now an eleven-day spectacle, the Feast was once a locally run affair, in which many local families would set up handmade stands, advertising their specialty food, whether it be canolis or sausages, with children setting up and hawking passersby into playing their coin games. At a time, in which the food was a means, not an end, locals and visitors alike gathered to join in the excitement.

Since my grandparents, great-grandparents, and even great-great grandparents have lived in the Mulberry Street area since the turn of the last century, I can only imagine the sense of community and celebration that once spread throughout the neighborhood during the festival which stretched even further downtown than it does today. While I certainly enjoy a good celebration of my (half) Italian heritage, and the Feast today was filled with great food, I am left to imagine (and listen to stories retold by my grandparents) of the time when the Feast of San Gennaro was for more than just the food.

What do we, as American college students, know about the world? To be honest, we do not know much even though we are Macaulay students. Most of us would not be able to point out Armenia on a world map, much less talk about the traditions and culture of the people there. Living in New York City opens up many doors to diversity and learning about different cultures in the world. My high school recognizes the importance of diversity and places great emphasis and effort on events that promote it. One such event is the International Food Festival that is held annually in the cafeteria after school hours.

I attended the food festival for the first time during my sophomore year. The only reason I went was because my Russian foreign language teacher mandated the class to bring a dish and contribute to the festival. Most of us had no idea what to bring in and she had to help those unfortunate enough to be unfamiliar with their culture’s cuisine. I, being of Armenian descent, knew exactly what cultural dish I would bring – dolma.


Image adopted from http://kronbergskrattarochler.files.wordpress.com/2007/05/dolma.jpg

I arrive at school the day of the food festival with the dolma cooked by my grandma. The time has come to bring all the food into the cafeteria and eat to our hearts’ content. I enter the cafeteria and my sense of smell goes crazy. Everything ranging from avocado to zucchini fills my nose and the feeling is nothing short of overwhelming. For the next hour or so, I walk around the gigantic, but crowded, room with my friends and go to each table and ask them “what’s this?” There were approximately forty tables representing countless different cultures and each group spent a minute or so happily talking about the food they brought in to people who they have never met or seen before.

I think that was the first time in my life that I really understood what the value of diversity is. There were probably more than sixty people representing the different cultures in that cafeteria and we were all unified by one thing in those few hours – food. Something as simple as food brought us together and left a huge imprint on me. The thought of being brought so close to other people through something as common as the food we eat really inspired and changed me to admire and connect better with people of different ethnicities. Now, whenever I go out to eat, I always try to go for something new and cultural – whether it is the Halal food on the corner of 25th and Lexington, the Chinese restaurant on 23rd, or Mike’s Due Pizza down the block from the Vertical Campus.

Feeling lazy and unwilling to cook, I found myself heading over to the “Hotdog Corner,” just a block away from my house. As I opened the door to the tiny store, I expected a warm greeting from Yonja, the sweet and friendly owner of the newly opened business. Instead, I was received with a cold “Hello,” as she looked at me without her usual smile. Though I was concerned, I shied away from asking her what was wrong. After all, I was merely a customer and it was not my place to intrude on her personal life.

Once I ordered my food, I waited in awkward silence as she grilled my pizza sandwich. Finally, Yonja spoke, softly breaking the quiet air. “Where have you been?” she asked. “Oh, just at home,” I replied with a puzzled expression. “Well, you know, people are not like this where I am from,” she began. “At my shop back at home, people always come in to say hello, even if it is just to get a cup of coffee. Everyone here is so disconnected. Always so busy.” I realized that it had probably been two weeks since my last visit to her store. I never imagined that she would be offended by my absence. “Well,” she continued as she handed me the bag of food, “You should come more often. It is nice when you come by.” As I headed for the door, I turned around and gave her a weak smile. Perhaps I am not just a customer to her, I thought to myself. Perhaps I am a friend too.

In black and white, our present and the past are captured on a plain sheet of paper. Swirls of nostalgias, memories, and moments are all blended into a mixture of life in a photograph. Last Tuesday, I attended a seminar called “Meeting the Artist” at Macaulay Honors College. From there, Howard Greenberg, a freelance photographer and an owner of the famous photo gallery in Manhattan, opened my eyes to see the new world of photography. From his passionate speech, I was able to see how meaningful my life can be by pursuing my own dreams.

Howard Greenberg’s life has been dramatically changed since he took his first look of the world through the lens. With the rhythmic shutter sounds made by thousands of snapshots that he has taken in his life, he was constantly driven by his own motivation and passion. “I was hungry,” he said. Because he was hungry, he did not hesitate when the time of making decisions came. After his first encounter with photography, Mr. Greenberg instantly changed his dream to become a photographer. After finding his own interest in business, he decided to run a photo gallery. His life was full of risks, but he was a man of action. I was inspired by his determination and confidence the most.

I always thought photography was obscure. Whenever my photographer friends started to talk about angles, light exposure, and contrast, I simply wanted to escape from these professional, heavy terms. I was more drawn to painting because I thought it allowed me to directly convey my thought and express my imagination or fantasy on canvas. From that perspective, photography had a limit: I had to use existing objects, people and places to express my own self and thoughts. However, Mr. Greenberg redefined and even broke my initial definition of photography.  While I was hearing all the behind stories about each photograph that he brought, I felt taking a photo means more than just documenting an idea or a moment. Through each person’s facial expression, the contrast of light and irony of the setting, an excellent photograph can make us relive that very moment in our lives. “Capturing the moment, that’s all what it is, really.” After listening to Mr. Greenberg’s handy tip, now photography isn’t that intimidating to me. To be honest with you, I’m little hungry to learn more about it.

Howard Greenberg, who was once a student studying psychology, was one of the many people who were influenced by the emergence of photography. He had a few friends who were involved in it and they convinced him to join the circle. His parents brought him his first camera from Japan and he began snapping away.

Before cameras, when one stumbled across something of genuine beauty, he or she would stop and stare, admiring it until it was time to move on. If one was a skilled artist, he or she would perhaps dedicate months, if not years, to capturing the sight. Still photography changed the way artists would capture the world and the way people began to see it. Suddenly, beautiful scenes became a part of history through film.

The way Howard Greenberg passionately talked about his career as a gallery curator revealed how much he really loved what he did. The stories he told us about the photographs and their history wasn’t foreign to me – I am very passionate about photography myself and I could relate to much of what he said. What shocked me the most was how suddenly his life turned around – from the medical world to the world of photography.

Listening to Mr. Greenberg speak about his life and how he was pulled into the world of photography made me realize how we’re all only a picture, painting, book, or movie away from changing our entire career path and understand what we really want to do in life. I, personally, relate to his story quite a bit because just yesterday I decided to change my major from finance to engineering – all because of one story I read on the internet. The butterfly effect: how a butterfly can flap its wings at one end of an open field and cause a storm on the other side due to wind exponentiation.

This post is, obviously, about Howard Greenberg, and his successes in his chosen field of photography. Instead of writing a summary about his achievements and résumé, though, I would like to focus on what stood out to me the most during his talk: his utter enthusiasm.

Sure, Howard Greenberg has over 20,000 photos in his collection—and sure, he is largely responsible for the beginning of marketing in the world of photography—but it seems that to him, what means the most is to be around what he loves. He said it himself: “Follow the dream; do what you love, not what you think you’re supposed to do.” But what makes that statement so important, to students like us just beginning to find our way? The answer is this: many hear this kind of “inspirational saying” from friends, family, teachers—but in this case, it was a complete stranger whose reality is a true embodiment of that dream. To see someone as successful as Howard Greenberg being able to attribute his accomplishments largely to enthusiasm gives hope that the advice we so often hear can be an attainable reality. Take, for example, his story behind the photo “Smoke and Veil.” This photo brought him considerable success, even though it was not his own work—because the person who actually took the shot saw that Greenberg was “hungry” to be a part of the art that brought him so much joy.  Through his own experiences, Howard Greenberg was able to reach a realization that changed his life forever: no matter the confines that one feels placed around them (by friends, family, personal expectations, and society as a whole) it may be one moment that will change your life forever–and that you should grab hold of that moment with everything you have and never let go.

As Howard Greenberg gave us a quick snapshot of his life, I was able to glimpse the sheer joy and love within the frame—and I now have even further desire to pursue my dream as wholeheartedly as he pursued his.

Before meeting Howard Greenberg, my concept of photography was  limited to merely my family’s red point-and-shoot Kodak digital camera; yet as I left in search of a bus stop on Tuesday night, I realized that my knowledge of the art hadn’t increased as much as I  thought it would, rather it was my appreciation of it that certainly did.

If anything that night caught my attention the most, it was Mr. Greenberg’s explanation of his enjoyment of ‘historical photography.’ Maybe it was the whole process, or labor that the photographers back in the day put into printing their work, but one cannot help but to admire the genuine effort filled procedure that went into each initial print and final product. Mr. Greenberg is of course not the only dealer or collector of such art, but his enthusiasm and love for his work are both admirable, and forced me to realize that the photographs surrounding the room all shared a single quality: they were all real.

In an age in which any part of a photo can be photo-shopped, cropped, re-colored, re-sized, or removed, it is comforting to find fantastic photographs that are authentic and were no doubt painstakingly planned and produced from start to finish by the photographers themselves.

After a quick Blackberry Google search, I was on the train ride toward Macaulay Honors College, excited to hear the story of Howard Greenberg the photographer. I sat there hoping to be interested and engaged, but he ended up relating to me on a much more personal level. When he spoke about being a Psychology major who opted out of Grad school to pursue his passion for Photography, I reflected on my own life and where i’m going. I chose a Psychology major because I saw it as the “lesser of the evils,” but I haven’t yet found my “thing,” my passion, something I would be happy to do for the rest of my life. I was astounded by how easy it seemed for him to find what he loved and drop everything else to make a living out of that.

A few things about the discussion specifically stuck out in my mind. I admire that Mr. Greenberg mainly sticks to mid-century photographs, being well aware that there is a lot more money in modern style photography. The unique technique he uses of combining photographs in the dark room to make pictures that are impossible in nature shows me that there is a lot more to photography than pointing and shooting with your fancy camera. Mr. Greenberg even mentioned that it’s not about the equipment at all, an iPhone can take a high quality picture but it’s all about the vision behind it. The Meet the Artist discussion gave me a new perspective of Photography as an art. I don’t think that this is my passion but I’ve learned that whenever that epiphany comes to me and I find what I love, I have an obligation to follow it.