Reviewed by: Outer Boroughs: New York Beyond Manhattan by William Meyers Nola Tully (bio) William Meyers, Outer Boroughs: New York Beyond Manhattan (Damiani, 2015), 192 pp. Nearly two centuries after Joseph Niépce first obtained a faithful image of nature, photography still captivates us with its ability to abstract something as elusive as 1/125 of a second and hold it fixed, suspended, resonant of events past, people or places no longer existent, perhaps no longer traceable but for this record, this proof that something, this thing, the subject of this photograph did happen, this person lived here, this place was visited, it looked like this. In Outer Boroughs: New York Beyond Manhattan, published this spring by Damiani Press, photographer William Meyers takes us beyond the iconic images of NYC street photography, to a time and place where life keeps beat to a slower tempo. Meyers delivers [End Page 605] vestiges of another NYC, one that is often eclipsed by its more famous and faster-paced sibling, as he captures life in the boroughs beyond Manhattan. The work imparts a calm temperament of quiet observation—landscapes as states of mind. The book opens with the epigraph The eye never has enough of seeing. (Ecclesiastes 1:8), and insatiability resonates palpably in these spare, dark, and often grainy cityscapes. A pair of colorful essays bookends the 83 black and white photographs, and horizontal pictures fill the right hand pages with their succinct titles printed on the left. In the first essay, “Outer Boroughs,” architectural historian Francis Morrone briefly traces how Manhattan came to rule, highlighting how each borough was at differing times a jewel in the city’s rich fabric. His anecdotes heighten the irony of some photographs, and provide an upbeat backdrop to others. In the closing essay, “A Wanderer in the Boroughs,” Vicky Goldberg champions the artist’s eye and a sort of metaphorical ambidexterity which she finds in Meyers’s work. She is unwavering in articulating his adept tonal range, style, and vision. Her title is fitting as the photographs were taken during two decades wandering through the Bronx, Brooklyn, Queens, and Staten Island. Mr. Meyers, a native New Yorker, has said that his aim was not as concerned with taking a picture as with “letting the picture take him.” The book’s format recalls Danny Lyon’s Other Places or Bruce Davidson’s Subway and both of these photographers come to mind. Meyers disclaims the documentary mantle yet acknowledges the influence of such diverse masters as Walker Evans and Weegee, Garry Winogrand and Helen Levitt. Stylistically his photographs resonate with the grittiness of William Klein’s grainy, blurred, and distorted street scenes yet the differences are striking. There are fewer people and no hysteria. The absence of people is noticeable. We are beckoned in with a perspective of the Brooklyn–Queens Expressway from below. A massive span of concrete and ironworks bisects the page, carries us out of Manhattan into the outer boroughs, each named on the Exit 17 signpost above. A lone garbage truck traverses the expressway like a toy engine belching a trail of smoke into the wide-open sky above Sunnyside Queens, June 7, 2000. In Belmont, Bronx, December 5, 1990, rows of fresh-baked peasant bread dappled in sunlight feel a bit simple, and in Prospect Park, Brooklyn, September 3, 2000, a bushy rhododendron, unkempt yet majestically framed by elegant stonework, feels a bit staged, yet there is beauty in the simplicity. It is hard to say what exactly is so pleasing about Riverdale, Bronx, May 4, 1998, other than to admire the flowers and foliage that flank the symmetry of the twin stucco, terraced homes on the Hudson River, until one sees the old woman on the right-hand balcony. This human presence quietly tips this otherwise architectural composition into the realm of the metaphysical. The empty streets of Castle Hill Bronx, March 7, 1999 suggest no amenities and stand in direct contrast to any notion of the Bronx as “bucolic.” In his essay, Francis Morrone describes this borough at the turn of the [End Page 606] century as a “land of milk and honey” and a place of the future. Yet...
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