Two weeks ago I visited 5 Pointz on a golden Saturday afternoon. I had heard the rumors that the massive, graffiti-adorned warehouse would finally be destroyed, but I didn’t really believe them. Not many did.
“Each year, they say 5 Pointz is gonna go,” one man said to me. “But each year, it stays. And it’s still here. It’s not going anywhere.”
And so, confident that I’d be able to come back, I focused my lens on the scenes around the building rather than on the building itself.
Three days later, I woke up and got the news: everything was gone. Painted over. I couldn’t believe it.
I realized this is what it felt like to have a part of the city suddenly taken away from me. I realized how naïve I was to walk around with this fantasy that displacement and destruction were things that happened to other people’s New Yorks and that My New York would somehow stay safe and unchanging.
All I have now are these little strips of film. I think if I had known what was about to happen, I might’ve shot some different pictures.