As New Yorkers, we commute. And when we commute, it’s usually via public transportation, foot, or bicycle. Independent of status, religion, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and zip code, commuting is one of the few shared experiences that can significantly shape our day to day.

During my first year living in Brooklyn, I often commuted to work in Manhattan via the Williamsburg Bridge. Commuting via foot or bicycle allowed me to carve exercise into my morning while simultaneously avoiding the sardine-like experience of riding the L train while it was undergoing repairs. The downside of commuting uphill, over the bridge was that it often resulted in me showing up to work drenched in a glistening layer of sweat. This forced me into a strict routine each night before bed during which I would carefully strategize what I would carry on my person the following morning. Ultimately, this experience prompted my curiosity in what other New Yorkers chose to carry on their journeys across the Bridge.

I am archiving objects that individuals carry on their person while crossing the Williamsburg Bridge. I photograph these objects on the pedestrian landing of the Brooklyn side of the Bridge where I am easily able to intercept individuals without startling them. Usually, these interactions take a matter of minutes. I specifically ask to photograph the largest object my subjects are willing to share with me. After rummaging through their bags or pockets, the subjects hold up their selected object so I am able to quickly snap a photo. I then ask for their names and destination, which I record on a sticky note or index card.

I am purposefully documenting these objects with an SX-70 Polaroid camera because of the Polaroid’s distinct, pocket-sized film, which I believe compliments my narrative around choosing objects to carry on my commute based on volume and weight constraints. Additionally, I believe that the physicality of using a Polaroid along with the experience of waiting for the photos to develop perfectly emulates the physicality of and passing of time during one’s passage.

I drew inspiration for my archive from Barbara Iweins’s, KATALOG, and Spencer Finch’s, “Trying To Remember the Color of the Sky on That September Morning”. As my professor, Pascal Glissmann, accurately pointed out, there are also elements of my archive that resemble Brandon Stanton’s, Humans of New York. I believe my archive will resonate most with New Yorkers or anyone who has commuted in a city via foot or bicycle and experienced the dilemma of determining what to carry based on physical constraints. Ultimately, my archive is a timestamp, capturing the minutiae of New Yorker’s everyday lives as they move from place to place.