People complained about the wind-blasted cold; then they complained about the snow. Not me. I choose my battles carefully and I’ll always be snow’s leading advocate, as long as I remain a pedestrian in New York City.
When the snow first began falling on sunday evening, and I saw it through a hole in the Union Square subway stairwell, I did something I’m never moved to do in any weather: I grabbed my camera. The Union Square stairwell (on the nw corner of the park) is a lucky one. Instead of leading back, then forth, affording you a view of tile and steel and nothing more, the stairs go up one way. By standing in the right spot one can easily see the street from the floor. And up beyond there, the sky. Filled with snow.
I snapped a couple of photographs very quickly, producing an accidental variety of photographic effects by pushing buttons and adding or removing flash. I still haven’t mastered my camera. It knows more than I do. But, for the first time, I came really close to capturing snow exactly as my eye sees it. It falls like fairies.
