“The performer and the poet” is what my family dubbed the girls who live across the street. We were sitting for dinner when the older one was conspicuously dancing for the audience of her hot pink iPhone that she had propped up against the Leonard street pane. She had assumed her audience was limited to her TikTok following, but the ring light illuminated her so perfectly that us real-time spectators behind the glass could not look away. Her sister—we knew of their relationship by watching them get ready for school each day—was sitting at a dimly lit desk on the other side of the bedroom wall, writing. I like to think that their differences are not coincidental. Each girl wholly embodies a trait of their parents, who throw disco parties, have vintage furniture, bake cookies, and wear fabulous shoes. At the parties (which have become extremely regular always beginning at 9:30 P.M. on Thursday nights) the performer dances in the center of the action while the poet mixes drinks and observes by the kitchen table. Observing the parents has made me envious of their ability to stay multifaceted while raising two teenage girls. The dad leaves early each morning and returns at 7 P.M., I imagine he works in an office - though he does seem like an artist. He wears Air Jordans and graphic tees to work every day in a Brooklyn-hipster way. The mom is basically my very own manic pixie dream girl. On days where my own job is hybrid, I watch her tap on her computer and jot down notes - when she gets up from the computer, she moves like a dancer. I admire how she can be so focused on her work all day then throw a social gathering that night; both the performer and the poet.
This corner of Leonard and Church is a prime example of how the past and future meet and mingle in Tribeca. On one side of the street, you have 66 Leonard, the Textile Building, designed in 1901 and converted to apartments about 100 years later—an undoubtedly historical building, meticulously restored, decorated with twelve cartouches, and has six caducei on its neoclassical exterior. Then across the street, you have 56 Leonard, known to many as “The Jenga Building” due to its stacked, cantilevered stories. Topping out at 821 feet tall (the tallest residential building in Tribeca) and opened to residents in 2016, the tower certainly looks futuristic with its glass facade and permanent art installation—resembling a squashed balloon and made of stainless steel—by contemporary conceptual artist Anish Kapoor. These neighboring buildings, their facades, and their artistic adornments could not be more distinct in style or in the era they connote. These have been on the list of buildings that I really want to photograph for some time. But my pictures are done with consent and collaboration, so the first step in all of my shoots is to meet the neighbors to secure their permission. I got lucky with this situation—I was at an event for my son’s high school and I met a fellow mom who lived in #66. She said she knew a neighbor in the Jenga Building across the way. She connected me with them and I thought I was all set, but it turns out the residents had just moved, so it was back to square one. I was at yet another school event (with the same mom) and met one of the developers of the #56. He set me up with some of the residents. I was able to move forward with the shoot and it turns out that the subject’s kids and my friend’s kids know one another. In addition, it turns out I had already met him when I photographed him for a magazine over a decade ago. Big city, but such a small world!And it got even smaller. When I was teaching, I was telling my students about this photoshoot and one of them said her aunt lived in the building. Then, when I posted the photo on Instagram, one of my collectors wrote to me to tell me that she lives in the building too! It ultimately took a web of connections to get this photo only for it to spawn another web of connections!
It was about a decade ago, now. I was walking our dog and I noticed that the construction for the building began. It was just an empty lot before, so not exactly pleasing to the eye but the desolate space allowed for the preservation of the neighborhood’s low skyline. I could sit on our windowsill and watch the sunset. I asked one of the construction workers what was going up, he replied simply “57 stories.” I thought I would hate the building; but, after it was finalized I never got around to hating it. In fact, I appreciate the sheerness of the window panes allowing me to still look through and over Tribeca. The reflections give me a whole new perspective on the neighborhood.
This picture and the next are the same building - they face the third picture in this series. These two buildings that face each other on Leonard Street show the transformation of Tribeca from a manufacturing hub to a luxury neighborhood. The 'Textile Building' built in 1901 faces Jenga built in 2017. The ‘Textile Building’ designed by Henry J. Hardenbergh, the architect of the Plaza Hotel,was originally amanufacturing space; it was converted to residential use in 2001, one of the first such conversions. Directly across stands the 'Jenga Building,' a 57-story glass tower, designed by Herzog & de Meuron; its unusual design of offset floors resembles the game Jenga.
I always thought we would get along. Us with two girls and them with two boys, each counterpart about the same age. I would like to think we share similar homes, but I can’t imagine a household where I am the only woman.
Now, their eldest is about to graduate high school. It can be hard to track the passage of time by watching your own children but the boys’ childhood plays in my mind like a flipbook. I have seen them go from high-chairs to baking with oven mitts. Little league to basketball practice.
They’re setting up decorations for a graduation party now. I feel proud of him, despite not even knowing his name.
This corner of Leonard and Church is a prime example of how the past and future meet and mingle in Tribeca. On one side of the street, you have 66 Leonard, the Textile Building, designed in 1901 and converted to apartments about 100 years later—an undoubtedly historical building, meticulously restored, decorated with twelve cartouches, and has six caducei on its neoclassical exterior. Then across the street, you have 56 Leonard, known to many as “The Jenga Building” due to its stacked, cantilevered stories. Topping out at 821 feet tall (the tallest residential building in Tribeca) and opened to residents in 2016, the tower certainly looks futuristic with its glass facade and permanent art installation—resembling a squashed balloon and made of stainless steel—by contemporary conceptual artist Anish Kapoor. These neighboring buildings, their facades, and their artistic adornments could not be more distinct in style or in the era they connote.
These have been on the list of buildings that I really want to photograph for some time. But my pictures are done with consent and collaboration, so the first step in all of my shoots is to meet the neighbors to secure their permission. I got lucky with this situation—I was at an event for my son’s high school and I met a fellow mom who said she knew a neighbor in the building across the way. She connected me with them and I thought I was all set, but it turns out the residents had just moved, so it was back to square one.
I was at yet another school event (with the same mom) and met one of the developers of the building across the way. He set me up with some of the residents. I was able to move forward with the shoot and it turns out that the subject’s kids and my friend’s kids know one another. In addition, it turns out I had already met him when I photographed him for a magazine over a decade ago. Big city, but such a small world!
And it got even smaller. When I was teaching, I was telling my students about this photoshoot and one of them said her aunt lived in the building. Then, when I posted the photo on Instagram, one of my collectors wrote to me to tell me that she lives in the building too!
It ultimately took a web of connections to get this photo only for it to spawn another web of connections!
The group decides to stay a little longer, and another wine cork pops. Most of the studio has emptied out, but a handful of staff continue to chat and wind down after a long day. Someone asks where the head project manager is, and if he’s abandoned his own going away party. “Smoking” someone says and then the talk turns to travel and the upcoming vacations.
Dipping out through the window, the man lights a cigarette and steps down to the fire escape. To celebrate is to be human, he thinks, as he leaves his team behind to have a moment for himself in this place he never plans to see again. He likes the firm, but it’s time for him to move on. He’s having a daughter soon and wants to be there for her. He glances through the windows of the floor below and sees two women working late into the night, the rest of their office empty and dark. He wonders if they have children, and flicks the cigarette away.
This is an office party! Thrown by a kitchen and lighting design company called Lanserring. Classic SoHo: I love the cast-iron architecture of the building.
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