Kevin, 71

Two chicken wings

They were pre-cooked and cold, “plundered from my mate’s fridge. Still feel guilty about it. I’m an honest person.”

Liv, 54

Milky Way Chocolate Stars and a coffee

From volunteers on Christmas Day during the pandemic. Lived off junk food during this time (what most of the donations were).

Mei, 63

Sliced sausages

This was from the supermarket reduced section. “I can’t cook hot food because of my injury.”

Matt, 54

Mince pie and a Stella

They were brought during the pandemic by a stranger. They drank the beer together.

Paul, 56

Ice cream

“In hospital with a punctured lung, due to street violence. Couldn’t eat anything else.”

Kamga, 42

Ketchup pasta

“Made using long-life food donations. Cooked it in a hostel.”

Abraham, 43

£1.99 McDonalds big mac + chips

Someone gave him a voucher on the back of a bus receipt.

Yusuf, 38

Cold fish and chips

It was raining so hard he couldn’t go anywhere, so he stayed in a tent. When it eased, he went to a nearby restaurant. They gave him a cold fish and chips.

Wassa, 56

Baked beans

He ate them cold with the free supermarket wooden fork.

Ali, 35

Prawn cocktail crisps, digestive biscuits, and a chocolate

These were long-shelf-life donations handed out by volunteers during the pandemic.

Urban Faces New York City – Cover

Urban Faces – New York City offering viewers a glimpse into the vibrant tapestry of life in one of the world’s most iconic cities.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK, UNITED STATES, December 11, 2023 /EINPresswire.com/ — Esteemed photographer Marcel Sauer is proud to announce the release of his latest photobook, “Urban Faces – New York City”. This highly-anticipated collection showcases over 150 pages of captivating street and portrait photography, offering viewers a glimpse into the vibrant tapestry of life in one of the world’s most iconic cities.

“Urban Faces – New York City” transports readers through the bustling streets, capturing the essence of the city that never sleeps. With a keen eye for detail, Sauer beautifully captures the diverse individuals who call this metropolis home. Each photograph tells a unique story, showcasing the beauty, complexity, and vitality of New York City.

Featuring stunning black and white imagery that highlights the raw emotions and personality of each subject, Sauer’s work is a testament to his exceptional talent. His ability to capture raw moments in a city constantly in motion is a testament to his skill and dedication to his craft.

Marcel is thrilled to share ‘Urban Faces – New York City’ with the world. This city served as his muse, and he hope that viewers will be transported into the vibrant streets and feel the energy of this amazing city through his photographs.”

“Urban Faces – New York City” is available for purchase both in stores and online. Readers can find the book at select retailers nationwide, as well as on popular online platforms such as Amazon and on Urban Faces website www.urban-faces.com.

For those seeking a unique and captivating visual experience, “Urban Faces – New York City” is a must-have addition for any photography enthusiast’s collection. With its poignant images and masterful storytelling, Sauer’s photobook will undoubtedly leave a lasting impression.

About Marcel Sauer:
Marcel Sauer is an internationally acclaimed photographer known for his exceptional ability to capture the essence of cities and the individuals who inhabit them. With a passion for street and portrait photography, Sauer creates images that bridge the gap between reality and art. His work has been widely exhibited and published in prestigious art galleries and publications worldwide.

For media inquiries or to schedule an interview, please contact:
Marcel Sauer
hello@urban-face.com
www.urban-faces.com
+49 (0) 171 9741410

Marcel Sauer
Urban Face Photography
+49 171 9741410
email us here
Visit us on social media:
Instagram
YouTube

Urban Faces – New York City

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The mayor of Los Angeles, Karen Bass, used her background in medicine to help a photographer who collapsed during a press conference.

While speaking alongside the Los Angeles Police Chief Michael Moore on Thursday, a photographer in attendance apparently suffered a medical episode and collapsed.

Bass reacted quickly, immediately stopping the press conference and leaving her station to administer first aid.

Video footage captured the mayor crouched over the stricken photographer helping with his care until paramedics arrived.

Bass graduated from the University of Southern California Keck School of Medicine Physician Assistant Program and in the 1980s worked in an emergency room as a physician’s assistant.

“The very first person to run to his rescue was the mayor,” says KNX News reporter Craig Fiegener, who was standing next to the photographer when he fell.

Feigner adds that the mayor was orchestrating the photographer’s care — despite all of the police officers who were present.

The first thing Bass did was check his breathing and also took his pulse. An ambulance arrived 20 minutes later and took the man to hospital.

The photographer works for KCAL News which provided a positive update about his condition to KTLA.

“Our photographer is home and feeling back to normal. He expects to be back to work next week,” the station said in a statement.

Typically for a politician, not everyone is a fan of Mayor Bass but online commenters put political aspersions aside to applaud her for taking swift, decisive action.

“Good to know the photographer is doing ok, the mayor responded well, and good on her to have those medics qualifications,” writes one person on YouTube.

Bass has just passed one year in office with the Californian city’s homeless crisis topping her priorities. She has spent $76 million on the “Inside Safe” program which aims to permanently house those with no fixed abode.

When I was eleven years old, I did an unforgivable thing: I set my family photos on fire. We were living in Saigon at the time, and as Viet Cong tanks rolled toward the edge of the city, my mother, half-crazed with fear, ordered me to get rid of everything incriminating.

Obediently, I removed pictures from the album pages, diplomas from their glass frames, film reels from metal canisters, letters from desk drawers. I put them all in a pile in the backyard and lit a match. When I was done, the mementos of three generations had turned into ashes.

Only years later in America did I begin to regret the act. A few pictures survived because my older brother, who was a foreign student, had taken them with him. But why didn’t I save the rest, the way I slipped my stamp collection in my backpack hours before we boarded the C-130 cargo plane and headed for Guam? For years I could not look at friends’ family photo albums without feeling remorse.

Then last week I had a dream that was so instructive it left me with a different estimation of that loss. In the dream, I find myself once more in front of my old home in Saigon. I walk through the rusted iron gate to find, to my horror, the place gutted—an empty structure where once there was life and love.

What I failed to retrieve in the dream survives, if only as an exquisite longing.

Immediately, I start to rummage among the pile of broken bricks and fallen plasters, finding, at last, a nightstand that once belonged to my mother. I pull at its drawer and out spill dozens of black-and-white photos. I am ecstatic. The photos are intact.

They are exactly as I remember them. Here’s one of my brother when he was twelve, wearing his martial art uniform and bowing to the camera. Here’s one of my mother as a teenager, posing next to the ruins of Angkor Wat. Here is my father as a young and handsome colonel, smoking a cigar. And me and my sister holding onto our dogs—Medor and Nina—as we wave to the photographer, smiling happily.

Suddenly a little boy appears in the dream. “This is my home,” he yells, “and you’re trespassing.”

“But these are my photos,” I meekly protest.

The boy looks at me with suspicion and shrewdness and changes his tone. “Well,” he says, “how much would you give me for these photos?”

But before I can find the answer, the boy laughs and snatches the photos out of my hand. I try to grab them back of course, but it’s too late.

I woke to find my arm still reaching out over the blanket in a gesture toward the pictures, still trying to retrieve them. Confused and astonished, I stared at my own empty hand for what seemed to be a long, long time. In that salty dawn with the cable cars rumbling up the hills and their bells clanging merrily outside my window, I saw what I hadn’t seen before: that nothing was ever truly lost.

What I failed to retrieve in the dream survives, if only as an exquisite longing. If words and language, as the poet Rilke tells us, can be made into a thing, mute as the statue of an orator, the reverse is true also.

Precious things lost are transmutable. They refuse oblivion. They simply wait to be rendered into testimonies, into stories and songs.

–Andrew Lam

*

Ambush in the Leaf, 2007 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.
Untitled #4, 2009 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.
Waiting, 2009 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.
Archival Family Photograph, c. early 1978 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.
” data-medium-file=”https://s26162.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Screen-Shot-2023-12-11-at-7.36.19-AM-229×300.png” data-large-file=”https://s26162.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Screen-Shot-2023-12-11-at-7.36.19-AM.png” class=” wp-image-230955″ src=”https://s26162.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Screen-Shot-2023-12-11-at-7.36.19-AM.png” alt width=”361″ height=”472″ srcset=”https://s26162.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Screen-Shot-2023-12-11-at-7.36.19-AM.png 563w, https://s26162.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Screen-Shot-2023-12-11-at-7.36.19-AM-229×300.png 229w, https://s26162.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Screen-Shot-2023-12-11-at-7.36.19-AM-46×60.png 46w, https://s26162.pcdn.co/wp-content/uploads/2023/12/Screen-Shot-2023-12-11-at-7.36.19-AM-38×50.png 38w” sizes=”(max-width: 361px) 100vw, 361px”> Archival Family Photograph, c. early 1978 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.
Archival Family Photograph, c. early 1978 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.
Archival Family Photograph, c. 1966 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.
Archival Family Photograph, c. 1981 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.
Immigration Paperwork, c. 1979 © Binh Danh, from Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging © Radius Books.

__________________________________

From Binh Danh: The Enigma of Belonging. Photography by Binh Danh. Texts by Binh Danh, Boreth Ly, Joshua Chuang, Isabelle Thuy Pelaud, and Andrew Lam. Copyright © 2023. Available from Radius Books.