Clay
Benskin weaves his way through the crowded sidewalks of Lower Manhattan,
apparently invisible to the people streaming past him. He is not a small man.
Yet even as his camera gets to within inches of someone’s face, the person
doesn’t flinch.
“People
will stand in front of me and not pay me any mind,” Mr. Benskin said. “I guess
I have no presence.”
His photographs, on the other hand, do. Since taking up photography a
little more than three years ago — almost on a dare to himself — Mr. Benskin
has proven to be adept at street photography, a genre he insists he had to look
up online. His images are noirish scenes of city life, from people emerging
from clouds of steam, wacky T-shirts in the middle of a crowd or reflections in
the morning light.
Not
that he considers himself to be a street photographer, even if he graduated
from a smartphone to a high-quality compact camera. He’s been known to abruptly
stop posting images on social media, only to return weeks later. He insists he
does not care to exhibit, since it would be too much work.
“To
me, it’s just a hobby,” he insists. “I just take pictures. I like doing it for
the hunt. How close can I get to somebody before they see me.” His day job —
which he has had for 25 years — is at a Tribeca apartment building, where he
now works as the superintendent. Among the residents is Mick Cantarella, a photographer who, one day, was showing Mr. Benskin work from a
recent photo shoot.
“He
was showing me pictures of some models and stuff,” Mr. Benskin recalled. “I
told him I could take better pictures with my phone.”
He
began by doing still lives, but he ventured into the street, too. He showed the
images to Mr. Cantarella, who remarked they were in the tradition of street
photography. Mr. Benskin had to look up the term, which is how he learned about
the work of Garry Winogrand, among others. He was fascinated by a video he saw of Mr. Winogrand,
even if he thought some of his methods were “creepy,” like when he pretended to
be fiddling with a lens to lessen suspicion.
Mr.
Benskin relied on those distracting moves until he realized one day — when he
stood in one spot and made pictures using a flash — that no one really bothered
him. (Well, he is a big guy.) As he walks down the
street, he scans the sidewalks, sometimes crossing over when he sees a
background that can be interesting.
Mr.
Cantarella — his erstwhile inspiration of sorts — likes Mr. Benskin’s images.
“I
think they’re great,” he said “He’s a civilian, but he has a great eye,
clearly. He has a certain look that he has honed.” Part of that look comes from
Mr. Benskin’s fondness for film noir, a holdover from years of watching classic
films. His photos often rely on dark tones, with figures obscured by shadows.
But
his look also depends on his getting as close as possible, holding his camera
to the side, out in front or arching overhead, composing on the fly using the
camera’s flip-out screen. Sometimes he knows right away he got the moment.
Other times, the frame reveals itself – and its details — only when he reviews
his pictures.
“I
get so excited, I want to see everything,” he said. “That’s why I don’t like
putting the viewfinder to my eye. My eyes are open. When I put the camera up
it’s like my eyes can’t breathe. I want to see everything.”
So,
how does someone manage to slink around city streets and not be noticed?
“I
grew up going to clubs,” he said. “I’d pick a wall, stand against it and watch
people. I guess I must blend.” lens.blogs.nytimes
All images © Clay Benskin
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