I hadn’t begun riding the Staten Island Ferry regularly until mid-1998. And in the next several years, much would change for the one hundred year-old staple of municipal transportation. The lax atmosphere and cast of both official and unauthorized boat regulars were held to greater scrutiny after 9/11 and the crash of the Andrew Barberi Ferry in October 2003. The vendors and musicians largely disappeared; the shoe-shine guys finally packed it in. The preachers? Maybe they just gave up.
Each trip allows a venture into varying terrains during a 5.2 mile cruise across New York Harbor. The natural mix of sounds—conversations, vocal characteristics, boat movements—all punctuate a visual canvas which guides me into the mix of commuters, tourists, deckhands, and textural palettes. In one space, contrasting multi-cultural itineraries emerge aboard a vessel at sea which hosts nearly 65,000 guests each day. It is this complexity and oddity I attempt to dissect and preserve.
Each trip allows a venture into varying terrains during a 5.2 mile cruise across New York Harbor. The natural mix of sounds—conversations, vocal characteristics, boat movements—all punctuate a visual canvas which guides me into the mix of commuters, tourists, deckhands, and textural palettes. In one space, contrasting multi-cultural itineraries emerge aboard a vessel at sea which hosts nearly 65,000 guests each day. It is this complexity and oddity I attempt to dissect and preserve.
