If you get up at 5:30AM to have a heart-to-heart with your best friend or watch the sunrise from a public bench, I already love you.
2045
What to expect from me in 2045.
연습
연습
자전거를 탈까요?
자전거를 탈래요?
자전거를 탈거에요?
자전거를 타지요?
자전거를 타도 되요.
자전거를 타지 마세요.
자전거를 타세요
자전거를 타러 가요.
자전거를 타려고 해요.
자전거를 탈 때
자전거 타기 전에
자전거 타긴 후에
자전거를 탑시다.
자전거를 타고 있어요.
자전거를 타고 싶어요.
자전거를 타야 해요.
한 번 자전거를 타보세요
Moving in
The day before moving to her new apartment, my wife’s mother asked if I could give her a hand cleaning up a few odds and ends at the new place. Moving is always exhausting - emotionally and physically - but she was gracious enough to oblige me when I asked for a couple photos to mark the occasion.
Consider this
The strangeness of having to pause and consider spelling before writing my own name.
Talking to myself
When they had no teeth.
I admit: I love them too much. Guilty as charged.
But every little milestone gets to me. Watching them brush their teeth on their own before bedtime? I remember when they still didn’t have any teeth at all. And it wasn’t all that long ago, and it feels like a small miracle. And sorry for being such a fool but I can’t really help myself.
Sometimes I wonder, how many other dads out there are in the same place as I?
That last day in Brooklyn
That last day in Brooklyn was surreal, trying to hold on to New York, my home of thirty years, the city where I met the love of my life, the birthplace of Luca and Olin.
It’s hard to uproot yourself. It’s requires a leap of faith to let go of one’s certainties. But it seems to me that artists have always understood that we come from the unknown and that - to some extent - we place our bets on the mysterious and unforeseen to help us find ourselves.
Farewell
Some goodbyes take a piece of your heart with them.
New horizons, moving on
Last nap in their first home.
Next stop: Seoul, Korea.
In Memoriam: Deyvid “Wolf” García
A few years back in Central Park I met Deyvid “Wolf” Garcia. He was a fresh-faced kid of sixteen with amazing athletic ability and the kindest, most generous heart. I saw him perched high up on a tree branch, lost in thought, looking out over the expanse of the Great Meadow. Later that day, I saw him again putting himself through a rigorous Parkour drill. Even then, he was already relentlessly pushing his body to the limit. He was also absolutely fearless in an almost terrifying way.
We struck up a conversation. I shot some photos, which I sent to him later that day. He loved them and over the next few years we would get together once in a while to shoot and hang out. Without exception, Deyvid drew a crowd of admirers wherever he went. Young women lingered with shy smiles and kids looked at him with the awe reserved for super heroes. He was never less than gracious and kind to anyone who approached him.
Last Saturday, at age 24, Deyvid suffered a fatal fall while doing what he loved best: defying gravity and braving the unknown. I heard the news from a fellow photographer and have not been able to stop thinking of his brave, beautiful soul.
He will be missed.
Book Publication: The Street Becomes
Once upon a time there was an Artist in Residence at the Smithsonian…
I’m so pleased to share that my project "The Street Becomes" will be published this Spring/Summer by Meteoro Editions in Amsterdam. Previous to signing on with Meteoro, the book dummy for the project was a Finalist in three international competitions: Getxo Photo Open Call (Getxo, Spain), Fiebre Photobook Festival (Madrid, Spain) and FELIFA (Buenos Aires, Argentina).
Also, in 2017 a selection of works was presented by El Museo del Barrio as part of the exhibition “nasty women / bad hombres”. In 2018 twenty four works from the series where exhibited at the Museo Nacional de Arte Moderno in Guatemala. Most recently, the series was a Winner of the 2020 Urbanautica Institute Awards: https://urbanautica.com/portfolio/the-street-becomes/862
“The Street Becomes" explores the changing character of the urban street in times of war and peace. This body of work is entirely based on archival images, which I've repurposed and transformed aesthetically for the purposes of my project.
The book is available for preorder from Meteoro. There are two special editions available as well, which include a copy of the book plus a single print or a diptych from the series: https://meteoroeditions.com/The-Street-Becomes-J-Permuth
Thank you as always for your continued support and belief in my work, it means the world to me!
When night falls…
and you dream of yourself, are you wearing a mask?
Orange in the snow
A few weeks back, a most unusual hibernation took hold of them.
Luca and Olin have always been wanderlust babies and ‘fernweh’ will probably be their first tattoo. For them, a day without stepping outdoors is a day wasted. Their expressions darken and they cry when we can’t leave home. Or at least they used too. These days it takes all kinds of slyness and subterfuge to get them into their winter jackets and onto their double-decker stroller.
HRM joked with me that our latest home stay had gone on longer than any Covid quarantine. Yesterday, as a last ditch effort, I showed them a picture of a Ford Mustang buried in the snow and told them it was still there, waiting for their visit. The gamble payed off and miraculously we were off in search of their favorite sports car. The whole way over, I prayed it would still be where I saw it last. Mercifully, it was. And it was also clear of snow. They stared in awe as it sparkled in the morning light. I took one look at it and wished it was ours and we were about turn the key and hit the road.
Then I heard the voice, just over my right shoulder, saying to me: “It’s yours for $50,000, my friend”.
Three little birds
Like most days these days, we spent Valentine’s Day at home. I stepped out to get some lunch from our favorite Dominican lechonera: heaping plates of roast chicken, yellow rice, pinto beans and fried plantains. After eating, I taught Luca and Olin the lyrics to Bob Marley’s “Three Little Birds”, which they can now sing back to us by heart.
It was only much later, after putting the kids to bed, that I had a chance to steal a kiss from my wife.
Latinx photography in the United States
It’s nice to give and receive sweets on Valentine’s but nothing is sweeter than seeing your work in print. Elizabeth Ferrer’s new anthology of Latinx photography in the USA is a gem and an invaluable resource for this field of studies.
I’m so proud to be represented by two bodies of work: YONKEROS and The Street Becomes, my new monograph which is forthcoming this year from Meteoro Editions in Amsterdam.
Roe vs Olin
Yesterday I got my first dose of the Covid vaccine (Moderna). Although I live all the way on the northern tip of Manhattan, the city scheduled me to get my shot on the Lower East Side. So I put on my best mask and made my way across town.
The appointment went without a hitch. As I walked out, it dawned on me that I hadn't visited the LES since March and that I was within striking distance of an old favorite of mine: Russ and Daughters. I made a pit stop to grab some fresh bagels, scallion cream cheese, salmon roe, chocolate covered coconut macaroons, dried fruit and the best sable fish in NYC!
This morning at breakfast I asked the twins to taste the salmon roe. Luca went first, liked it and asked for two more eggs. Olin took his time holding up his one perfect red orb to the light. He looked at it slowly from different angles, like a bearded Hasid carefully appraising a ruby in the Diamond District. Finally, he took one last look, sighed and tossed it away in the direction of the kitchen.
Underground
It had been a couple weeks since I ventured out on the subway. When I switched trains at the next station, I saw three digital screens with portraits of MTA employees displayed in a continuous rotation.
It took me a moment to see the dates underneath them. It took another second to realize there were two dates per portrait and the second one was always 2020. Then I was blinking back the tears. There were so many faces. So many lives cut short by the virus.
Rest in peace 💐
La obscuridad
“ Llega la noche, la obscuridad. Llega el día, la obscuridad. Pero al dormir sueño y veo mi vida plasmada como era anteriormente”.
***
“Night comes, darkness. Day comes, darkness. But asleep I dream and I see my life as it was before”.
Cologne
After Luca and Olin were born, I understood parenthood for the first time: the way it teaches you selflessness and the new joys, anxieties and sacrifices that come with it. I remember my first birthday celebration after the twins arrived and my parents calling early in the morning to sing “Las mañanitas” to me. It became suddenly overwhelming. I tried to explain to them the enormity of what I was feeling as a new father. I wanted them to know that I finally understood what it must have been like for them when they were a young couple starting out on the road of life and welcoming their first son. Words failed me and there were mostly tears of gratitude.
A few days ago I celebrated my birthday again.
I lost my mother back in September and I’ve missed her every day since but especially on that day. I found a flask of cologne she had given me as a gift a few years back. Dabbing some on, I let the memory of her linger with me throughout the day, helping me through as she always did.