Andrew Day

A Love Letter to New York...

I believe being in a relationship with New York is the toughest relationship you’ll ever be in. When you have been in New York “too long” and get the chance to leave it’s a very sweet escape from the trauma of a constant fight for work, the abuse of constant noise, and trying to have a social life that can make Jim Belushi look like a quiet and awkward adolescent. The story of my relationship with New York is about as classic as it gets. I had sold everything I owned and barely covered a one way flight to the city. I was offered a place to sleep by my friend from college Jimmy Martin. It was a small room that was used for extra closet space. The day I arrived my dad called me and asked how I was on money. I looked into my wallet and saw one $20 bill. I said I was fine knowing I had a plan. I would take the bus from Hoboken into the city every day and look for work. Each trip would cost me $2.75. Coming towards the end of the week I had a gig at a coffee shop on 42nd Street. In a week and a half’s time, I had made $160. Before taxes. When Jimmy would come home from working as a background actor on Saturday Night Live, we would go up on the roof and look at the bright skyline in awe. I remember thinking out loud to one another, “Wow, Tina Fey lives there...” I had to figure out how we were going to get in. Fast forward to a few months later when I had moved into a 6 x 12 foot apartment with no bathroom on Saint Marks. This chapter consisted of dodging sociopaths all over the city looking to social climb, saying yes to jobs that would make me sick to my stomach, saying yes to jobs that I was in way over my head, countless 4 AM call times for sunrise shoots, 3 AM wrap times on indie film sets, and redeye flights from LA to New York... which then became Paris to Berlin, Berlin to New York, then directly to Chicago, Miami, Canada, South America… you get the point. As work started to pick up I had turned the page and landed a studio apartment downtown my own little hotel room in the city if you will, and a studio space to create. Fast forward to an unforeseen global meltdown. My last day of work was February 12th, 2020. I had wrapped shooting beauty for Maybelline with Michael Kors. I remember leaving set and having a weird feeling about the rising concern of coronavirus and looking forward to being isolated at home. I had plenty of large shoots on the books for the rest of February and most of March. One by one they were delayed and eventually canceled. On a Wednesday nearing the middle of April I had completely changed my portfolio from Fashion and Beauty back to still life. I was on the phone 20 hours a day explaining to my clients all over the world that I could help them at least get their new product photographed in the meantime while we waited for the world to return to somewhat of a normal. After a conference call on Zoom a few days later with a creative director and his team, I was desperate to get outside and see how New York was doing. I biked from the bottom of the island up quiet and desolate streets. I hit 6th Ave and 14th Street. Crossing this intersection on a normal day at around 6 PM is usually similar to a game of Frogger. I cruised through a red light slowly with an uninterrupted view of 14th Street which felt like I was looking into the depths of the universe. As I arrived to 42nd Street I could hear distant music flowing softly like a quiet water stream in between skyscrapers. I soon realize this pleasant sound is coming from a man playing his saxophone alone in the middle of Times Square. I walk over to Times Square, an empty stage. It felt like I was the last man on earth and I had found the one other man breathing through a satisfied grin into his saxophone. His name is Sweet Lou. As he stopped playing I said to him, “You’re playing to an empty city,” as I held back tears. I unintentionally sounded a little harsh and had realized I delivered my words with a hardened New York edge. Without skipping a beat, he responded sincerely and had said he was playing for the angels of the city. During this very moment I was reminded of the first day I arrived in New York, completely broke and full of hope. Suddenly there I was, back in the middle of Times Square, back on the streets I used to get elbowed, stepped on, and yelled at for being in the way. This time I was all alone wondering if I’m about to be completely broke, and trying to remain, full of hope once again. I loved you then, I love you now, we too will rise again New York.

-Andrew Day

www.andrewdaystudio.com

www.prints.andrewdaystudio.com