The Architecture Revelation:
Finding Beauty in the Concrete Jungle
I never took architecture seriously. Buildings were just background noise in the urban symphony, unnoticed as I moved through my days. Growing up, my interests were always elsewhere—music, writing, the arts that felt alive and dynamic. Architecture seemed static, unchanging, and frankly… a bit dull. It took a global pandemic for me to discover the profound impact of architecture on my heart and soul. What happened? Why did I suddenly find myself captivated by the shapes of metal and concrete?
It started with a walk through New York City, a city I had known most of my life but never truly seen.
It was a Saturday afternoon in April 2020, during the height of COVID and intermittent lockdowns. The usually bustling streets were frighteningly quiet. The air was crisp and clear, almost surreal in its stillness. Armed with nothing but my mask and my Nikon D750, I set out to capture the essence of this transformed metropolis.
At first, I felt unsettled by the emptiness, the absence of the vibrant street life that had always defined New York. But as I wandered through the deserted avenues, something shifted. Without the usual distractions of crowds and traffic, my gaze was drawn upward, and I began to notice the buildings themselves in a way I never had before.
The silence allowed me to focus on details I'd previously overlooked. The intricate cornices of century-old buildings, the sleek lines of modern skyscrapers, the interplay of light and shadow on facades - all stood out in sharp relief against the empty streets. It was as if the city's architecture had been waiting for this moment to reveal itself, to be truly seen and appreciated.
The pandemic had stripped away the noise, leaving only the bones of the city exposed, and in that exposure, I found an unexpected beauty. As I continued my solitary journey, each building seemed to take on a new significance. They were no longer just background noise but silent sentinels, standing guard over a city in crisis.
The Flatiron Building, usually dwarfed by the bustle around it, now commanded attention, its unique triangular shape a defiant statement against the emptiness. I stood there, mesmerized by its boldness and elegance, realizing that architecture was more than just structures—it was storytelling, and now, more than ever, it was telling the story of a city's resilience. My newfound appreciation deepened as I explored further.
The Chrysler Building, with its art deco spire reaching for the sky, gleamed in the sunlight, its intricate patterns reflecting an era of ambition and innovation. In the quiet of the pandemic, it seemed to whisper stories of past challenges overcome, a beacon of hope in uncertain times.
The Guggenheim Museum, with its spiraling, organic form, felt like a defiance of the conventional, a celebration of creativity and boldness even in the face of adversity. The Brooklyn Bridge, with its Gothic arches and steel cables, seemed to sing a song of connection and endurance, spanning not just the East River but also the divide between our pre-pandemic past and an uncertain future.Each building told a story, whispered secrets of its creators, and reflected the times in which it was built.
Architecture, I realized, was an art form that combined creativity, engineering, and emotion. It was a canvas of human expression, a monument to our aspirations and achievements, standing strong even when the world around it had changed so dramatically. This newfound appreciation has changed how I experience cities. Now, I seek out architectural wonders, eager to uncover the stories they hold. I find myself lost in the details of facades, the curves of arches, and the juxtaposition of old and new. I've started reading about architectural history, learning about the visionaries who transformed skylines and the movements that shaped our built environment.
These photos from my NYC journeys encapsulate this revelation. They remind me that even in the most familiar places, there is always something new to see and appreciate. Through the lens of my camera and the unique perspective offered by the pandemic, I've learned to see the world differently, to find beauty in the seemingly mundane, and to connect with the stories that surround us.
The pandemic, for all its hardships, gave me the gift of seeing my city with new eyes. It taught me that architecture is not just about buildings, but about resilience, history, and the enduring human spirit.
Thanks for reading and being a subscriber.
‘til next time.
ak
, love the perspective views
Some beautiful images Alex. I really liked the bridge with star lights.
It reminds me I was once randomly photographing around Brussels and something caught my attention near the tops of the three to four story buildings on this street. I stood there snapping a few photos when a man approached me with a look like a light bulb had just appeared above his head. He told me has walked on this street every day for years and years, but never looked up in this spot before. He followed my line of site and explained how where I was photographing, there is a gap between two buildings that he had never seen or noticed. A seemingly small thing seemed to blow his mind as if to bring some novelty in his otherwise mundane commute.