GLEN DICROCCO

While Tensions Flared, We Were

In the time of the virus, the expanse of Silver Lake Park's verdant land has welcomed people of all stripes to commune with nature and find peace of mind.

The shelter-at-home edict was not a drastic lifestyle change. Photographers are often in solitude while finding a zone to make pictures. It becomes something of a routine, a mantra of delving in while filtering out. Staying on top of the news, taking in megadoses of pertinent information acted like a preemptive prescription.

For a moment.

Suddenly, being alone in the time of Covid-19 dissolved into a state of upheaval and anxiety. The world's collective mindset was shifted into a new model, a fragmented pattern, a compensation of navigating real space with suspicion and protection; a heightened attention for those becoming ill or dying.

Pacing in my studio, I often stared out to the street from the same windows that only a few years earlier became the conduit for “Indiscipline,” a steady source of street photos made from a limited perspective. It was a voluntary obsession to listen, look, and find a sudden interaction.

That same attention was reignited with Covid-19 lockdown. There was little choice but to look again, to witness this new landscape of masked characters outside my windows.

As well, toting the camera outdoors became a necessary exercise. The early spring photos in Silver Lake Park are about me coping and staying afloat. As more people filtered throughout the park, an eerie sense of uncertainty marked myriad faces. Each encounter through the lens allowed a momentary sense of relief. Isolated we were, yet part of the same body.

It was evident by June that the virus threat was less intense while the overarching tenor of the police protests filtered through the air. These photos are a record of the many folks who flocked to that green space to make sense of a world turning on its head. Their identities and stories are fluid, a collective effort to remain whole.

The essay is in two sections: a. "Separated But Equal," selections from Silver Lake Park , and b. “Masquerading,” pictures from my window.